Last week I christened this blog and briefly introduced myself with a post titled, “Who Do I Think I Am?” This morning I woke with another question on my mind that was prompted by a book I recently read called From Eternity to Here by Frank Viola.
Frank, I have come to learn, is an author of some note in Christian circles. He’s penned books with controversial titles and debate-sparking content like Reimagining Church and Pagan Christianity. Of course, as happens to me so frequently since I first dipped my toe in the water of Christian authors and speakers and thinkers in my post-conversion haze in 2003, I had no idea who he was when I ran into him through some combination of Twitter and blog postings a few weeks ago.
He was an author with a new book coming out – I was an author with a new book coming out. He does some blogging – I do some blogging. He writes about faith – I write about faith. That seemed like enough to go on to reach out, say hello and ask for a copy of his book that I might review here or on my other blog,
On Writing, which is oriented more toward authors and aspiring authors. It seemed simple enough. In fact, I did the same with several other authors whose work spanned topics from TV evangelism to church burnout to human rights.
“This will be good,” I thought. “Free books, lots of possible content to share on the blogs, insight from people who have walked where I am heading, what could possibly be the downside?”
Then the books started to arrive.
Fat ones, skinny ones, paperback and hard cover. Suddenly I realized that getting these books meant that I actually had to read these books. And reading them meant that I had to… And that’s when it hit me. I had no idea what I intended to do with these books. No. That is not entirely true. I knew that I hoped this blog could be a place where ideas from people with wildly different takes on what it means to be Christian and how that is expressed might come together – maybe not in agreement, but at least for examination. But my big strategy ended there.
“You are not a book critic,” the voice of reason/doubt whispered in my ear (as you get to know me better, you’ll meet the entire committee that resides in my head.)
“I know,” I replied. “And I don’t want to be.”
“But now you have their books,” Reason countered. “What are you going to do with them?”
“Read them,” I thought. “All I can do is read them.”
So I am working my way through a pile of books, the first of which was Viola’s.
This book is a deep and often beautiful examination of the scripture that describes the church – and by church I mean God’s people not a given building or tradition – as the bride of Christ. He extends that image beautifully and in artful detail as he peels back its layers like an expectant lover might patiently and attentively disrobe their beloved. And that’s what got me.
I love God. I love Jesus. I love the Holy Spirit that guides and comforts me day to day. Since my conversion, I have surrendered to a refining transformation that has turned me and my life inside out. I will serve and follow and sacrifice. But, as usual, the God loving me stuff stops me in my tracks. Here’s a short excerpt from page 77 of the book…
I have loved you, my people, with an everlasting love. With unfailing love I have drawn you to myself. (Jeremiah 31:3)
So take heart, Viola writes. You are someone God “so loves.” He has drawn you to Himself. Whenever you turn to Him, you are ushered before the smiling face of God whose heart beats with unfailing kindness. Are you overtaken with a sense of unworthiness? Are you humbled with your own sinfulness? Let me remind you. When your Lord hung on that bloody cross, He was in far worse condition than you or I could ever be in. He was made to be a sin (Isa. 53:4; 2 Cor.5:21). That paints a picture as drastic as it can be painted. The sins of the world – past, present and future – were all laid upon Him, and He became sin personified. And yet, the Father still loved Him. All that to say, in the moment you feel the most unworthy, you are the most welcome.
That should be a comfort to me…to anyone. But three words I wrote in the margin next to that passage when I first read it tell another tale. “Hard for me,” I wrote.
Serving God, even when it takes me to the end of myself, has almost become easy. Like some spiritual Indiana Jones, each challenge becomes its own adventure. But accepting the notion that I am loved by the creator of the Universe? That taps into my deepest insecurities. And that, in many ways, is where the deep work of allowing this faith to do its work in me lives.
So thank you Frank Viola for reminding me a) that God is, first and foremost, love and that b) I still have many rivers to cross.
For those of you reading this – what do you think? How do these words resonate with you?
Also, if you’d like to know more about Frank, his book and see what some other readers thought, you can find some info
here.
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