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Nobody can explain it, though thousands have tried. We can’t even describe it.

There is ample evidence in Scripture that it goes far back into human history. It’s more than mere records of conversations with God. Just who is going to describe how that took place? When modern Western Christians read about “God said…” they just assume it had to come via some means that would register on the intellect.

It does not; it cannot. The intellect is simply not equipped for such things. And while I might cite evidence in Scripture for that viewpoint, the cerebral bias of Westerners will prevent them believing it. While I have no trouble convincing most modern believers that there is a union and communion of the Holy Spirit with our spirits — they sense it first hand — I cannot seem to convince very many that the heart is its own sensory organ where any actual conversation with God takes place. Instead, we are loaded up with meaningless metaphors.

As I’ve noted in the past, this willful blindness contributes to a boatload of bullshit being blamed on God. That is, people will insist that God told them this or that, things wholly and easily contrary to His revealed character. What happens is that we know instinctively that God does not speak to the intellect, but Western Christianity has stolen from believers the sensory heart, so they are left with vague impressions that are largely emotional in nature. In other words, virtually the entire range of “spiritual” is nothing more than mere emotion mixed with some very deeply perverted understandings that leak out of the heart, a heart trying desperately to be heard over the commotion.

This makes it very, very hard to help folks heal from those Job moments when we know of a certitude that something has driven a wedge between us and God. Those moments do come; it’s part of our human experience here on this earth. Critical to understanding that is recognizing when the unspeakable communion is taken away. We know something is very wrong, and clinical depression is the least of our worries at that moment. For while that deep sense of loss roars in our soul’s receptors, what matters is that we are not where God intended. Something internally has shifted off course.

As with Job, we might well stand with a clean conscience. It’s not a question of gross error, of sin that offends God directly. Rather, we are simply not hearing from God as before. You’ll notice that Scripture never actually explains that. Even the glimpse into Satan’s court intrigues in the Book of Job don’t really explain much. It’s a parable meant to show us something else, not really why those times of separation come. If you read Job with a Western bias, you’ll miss the point and inject all sorts of nonsense into the narrative. Instead, it is and should remain inscrutable. The whole point is, “Hey, this shit happens.”

The question is what to do about it. More, it’s how to survive and get to the other side. For those passing through it, there is no “other side.” Even if they have been taught it, in that moment there is only that moment for them. Reality is confined to their misery. You cannot tell them otherwise. Rather, it is we who are called alongside to help that must know beyond all doubt that there is a far end to this thing. A major element in the narrative of Job is to notify fellow believers that they have an obligation to be of sound understanding themselves and be prepared to actually help, not act like Job’s trio of “friends.”

At this point I come to the deepest sadness of all: How many people do you know who sense the moral sphere with their hearts? Are they not most all like Job’s pals? My friends, this the real task before us. All of my railing against Western Civilization and the attendant Western Christianity is ended when we can awaken the awareness, and then develop the habit of living from the heart, not the head. Because living from the heart makes those Job moments a lot more tolerable when they come.

That puts you in the position of walling yourself away from some of the emotional clamor in your soul. You are in a position to recognize what is going on in your soul and we can ride out the storm. That it makes your suffering more exquisite is unavoidable, but it also makes you stronger to bear it. You realize that the time of testing has been decreed in the Courts of Heaven and it is your duty to bear it. It also puts you in the position of recognizing that your solution is to call on God and wait for His answer.

Again, nobody can explain it. We can only affirm that these things are so because we pass through them ourselves. Yep, me too. Unlike Job’s friends, I’m conscious of the dynamics and won’t add to your sorrow when you tell me you hurt. I feel your pain because my heart reads the vast ocean of communion we can all share in the moral sphere.

That channel is real.

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Interim

Spring has come to my part of the world. My yard knows it and is sprouting afresh. There is even a protected patch that is already long enough to need mowing. Sadly, this means the woods have stopped calling my name. They don’t like to see much human traffic during the warm season, so the place becomes heavily infested with biting insects. That includes deer ticks, known to carry dangerous diseases in these parts. In just a few weeks poison ivy will be everywhere. There are more welcoming forested areas, but the one nearest me becomes a little hostile in favor of other forms of life.

I’ve been poring over the documents currently stored on my static site. Most of them are now somewhat irrelevant to what I teach. I found out that WordPress allows me to upload PDFs, so I’m reworking some into that format. The Studies in the Law of Noah will become another book, probably retitled something like “Christian Law.” Too much has changed since I wrote that back then, so I’ll have to modify most of it. I’m still planning on studies in Proverbs, too.

Part of the problem is that whatever made me sick really tore down a lot of things. Or maybe I should say it coincided with the need to tear down some stuff on a different level, and it all came crashing down at once. My energy level still sucks right now, but I’m improving.

I still bear this long term burning desire to find Christian fellowship among the folks in the military. I cannot pretend to guess how God might make that happen, but it’s where my heart is. While I believe it signals something important, the gap between where I am and where that is represents a huge void in my mind. The brain simply cannot measure the distance, so I’m keeping it from trying to guess and from trying to implement anything at all. It remains one of those nebulous prayer requests.

The roofer should be here tomorrow, so I may not have anything to post. Still, I love you all.

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Transience

A measure of uncertainty is our certitude.

Recall that fundamental to the Fall was human presumption on divine prerogative. Creation remains in a variable state; it is in one sense nothing more than the contextual extension of God’s imagination. It does not exist in its own right. At the point where God tires of this game, the whole thing evaporates (Colossians 1:17). Thus, a critical element in the Fall is that crazy notion that reality is somehow its own thing, and that by extension, truth is a self-existent quality discernible by the greatness of human intellect.

Not only was this adopted and institutionalized wholly into the foundations of Western Civilization, but virtually every element of the West stands on it. Take that away and it quickly becomes apparent the West is one big lie. The truth is that God keeps things in a usable state and that He promises to maintain His direct interest in things until some point of ripeness. However, He has amply warned that His holding things together does not include any theoretical stasis. The whole of Creation remains subject to His whims. If you can’t see that in His Word, it’s because you refuse to read it as He wrote it.

Even looking in the mirror, I find ideas that don’t belong in God’s revelation of reality. Who will rescue me from myself? I can write all these books and read the threads of human history, but I find in myself the instinct to inject my hands into that stream and affect the flow. Such a notion is the Fruit of the Tree of Knowledge. It’s so very tempting to play the role of reformer.

The antidote to that poison is a frequent reminder that, if we keep playing such silly games, we will lose touch with our identity. Not the self-image we all try to shape and repaint, but the identity of who we are in Christ. Do you suppose Paul set out the change history? I submit that he was only trying to be obedient, day by day. Oh, but we sing sweet songs about that ethic:

(Lyrics here.)

The whole question has been analyzed to death with a body of theory (“time preference”) that mostly misses the point. Scripture presses a particular kind of time focus that is missing from all the official studies — “give us this day our daily bread.” That translates poorly into English because it’s a figure of speech. In the context of Jesus’ Model Prayer, it built on the Roman soldier’s daily ration. At the end of each day a trooper was given just enough food to last through the next day. It kept him dependent, not as a slave, but as a servant of his commander; it was quite personal. We take precious little from their military traditions these days.

But the practice was older than Rome. It arose from the expeditionary life, where the servant was on the road with his master, regardless of the ostensible purpose. It left the servant free to work unsupervised, but generally unable to run off very far without serious help. But it was more than a mere transfer of rations, because the moment renewed the personal bond between the two. It was a time to chat and interact, and a large lore of literature indicates judges were not too keen on punishing servants who ran away from serving assholes. It was more common than you might think that the wealthy and powerful held themselves to a high noble standard that saw a regular passing of temporary debt servants over into permanent slavery entirely by choice.

There is nothing in the West that touches on any of this, including the ethic of trusting some higher power to track the broader strategy and just mind your own mission for the day. It doesn’t mean you ignore the times and seasons, or that you ignore history. It means you avoid dreaming of being a big hero. That conscious choice is a critical element in rejecting the big lie of the West. It rejects the assumption that reality can be tracked reliably, that you can account for the factors and steer things on a course that you can understand.

David said nothing regarding dreaming about his throne or what he would accomplish as king. Instead, he constantly wrote poems and songs to remind himself that his greatest accomplishment was walking in the law during any current day. Molding yourself to God’s moral character and remaining in close communion with the living and breathing creation around you should be your highest aspiration. Even if you could reliably predict human nature at large in terms of historical trends as they occur, it doesn’t make you able to steer any part of it. There remains a wealth of natural phenomena you are fortunate only to observe and experience.

We are just along for the ride, and already have more than we can do just living the Laws of God.

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Locus Focus Hocus Pocus

(Posted early as tomorrow’s message.)

I’ve tried to warn my readers that we should study the Ancient Hebrew mindset as best we can, but never pretend it is necessary or even possible to duplicate it in ourselves. We do not ape the particulars. We do our best to awaken the moral and spiritual power within our own context, so the language of the Bible is advisory in that respect. As it is, we are reading an English rendering which might have passed through any number of layers from the originals, and we have no originals. We are accountable to the Bible, but we do not worship it. Instead, we have the Author and His unambiguous promise to guide and use us based on what we read there.

Nor is it possible to totally cease from every jot and tittle of our Western heritage. Again, it’s a matter of rightly dividing the Word as it applies in our discernment of Western influences. On the one hand, without the West we would not have computers and the Internet. Then again, without the West, we would not need them. We have the West and we have computers. The only righteous question is: What would Our Lord have us do right now?

I have often tried to explain that we can theoretically divide human nature into body, mind, and spirit. In practice, we can probably become aware of the soul as something far more than our minds, but have no direct awareness of the spirit. In broader terms, we can move the focus of our conscious awareness up out of the limits of the intellect. Thus, in recent months my mention of the sensory heart as part of the soul, part of our broader sense of who we are. Nonetheless, I still tend to describe the intellect as a tool for organizing and implementing the work of the flesh in obedience to the requirements discerned in the moral consciousness of the heart.

Sometimes, the flesh-mind simply cannot play along.

In clinical depression, the mind protests that it cannot embrace something demanded on some other level of the soul. If we give the focus of our awareness to the mind’s sense of failure, its sense of being overwhelmed and unable to keep up, we find ourselves deeply embedded in the misery of depression. The lack of a sensory heart gives rise to the standard cosmic numbness of clinical depression. If we possess a soul that is broader than the mind, we are at least in a position to draw back a bit from the crushing inertia and recognize: My flesh has run out of resources for this. It can’t go on any farther.

Despite the particular wording of some English translations, it is not a sin if your soul realizes your mind simply cannot believe God’s promises. Your flesh has limits and may need some space to heal from — well, only you would know that. But there’s nothing wrong with your higher awareness simply saying: “Fine. You can’t handle this. So stop; stop trying to plan and implement and just back off. Take a break.” And you can turn to face God and say, “Sorry Lord, but I just can’t believe that.” In that sense, “belief” is a cerebral exercise. So long as your intellect is not the limits of your consciousness, I assure you that God is not insulted by that. He knows all too well, given what His Son went through in the Garden of Gethsemane, and later on the Cross.

That’s not meant to shame anyone. We are fortunate if we can simply admit to ourselves that we hammered in His nails, in a certain sense. He did this for us because we could never do it for ourselves. That’s the whole point. When your faith rises above the cerebral, you realize that you aren’t required to make your head go along with things only your heart can comprehend. Do what you can to recognize the limits of your flesh and don’t tempt it beyond what it is able. Don’t lay that false guilt trip on your mind for its inability to keep up. By the same token, don’t let it interfere with the joys of your heart awakening to the cosmic sweetness of divine justice.

This is a long way from schizophrenia, where the mind itself is divided and confused, compartmentalized in dangerous ways. When you live in your heart, you remain quite cynical about your own mind, not to mention the flesh and its desires. The question is more the level and locus of your conscious awareness.

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Psalm 40

Most of this is a rather didactic psalm. About the only reason we might suggest for finding Psalm 70 tacked on the end (verses 13-17 here) is that it serves as an example of the kind of prayer God answered to justify the first part of this message.

David had no where else to turn. It didn’t matter what he might have felt compelled to do on the human level; if his God was not behind things, nothing would have saved David. He offers the image of being rescued from quicksand or a mud-pit, a sort of wet clay trap, quite deep and with slimy sloped sides. It was quite impossible to escape, even for substantially larger and stronger animals. David says that God allowed his feet to find a rocky extension so he could climb out.

A refreshing rescue calls for a fresh composition, so David sings a new song. The intent was to catch people’s attention with this heartfelt testimony. While it is impossible to overstate God’s trustworthiness, David contrasts that with those who boasted in lies even in small ways. Big talk did not compare well with God’s deliverance. Where does David being? How does he narrow down the vast record of God’s power?

A difficulty in verse 6 is the noteworthy variation between existing manuscripts. The New Testament (Hebrews 10:5) quotes from the Septuagint version of this verse and that is reason enough to prefer it. This places the emphasis on a form of Hebrew parallelism. David says that ritual offerings were never about the offering, but sacrifice itself. A more meaningful sacrifice would be your own obedient flesh while you live, not some dead animal. So David says, “Here I am, Lord! I embrace Your revelation as binding on me!” David sees Covenant Law as a privilege, not a duty.

Such is the message David preaches in the hearing of the nation at every possible opportunity. David felt that was his highest duty as king. Yet he is a king who suffers little from arrogance, because he quickly transitions to calling on God’s mercy as a penitent. For all his royal power, David could not defeat his own sins alone.

In most English translations it is not hard to see how the addition of Psalm 70 fits right in here. With such a feeble moral constitution, David is frantic for God’s delivering hand. He pleads with God as he often does, that his enemies not be allowed to win. David has no fear of death, but worries that an embarrassing end would darken God’s reputation, too. So he asks that God would simply keep on giving His people every excuse to praise His name. They have no where else to turn, either.

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Beyond Words

There is not a damned thing they can do to stop us.

This is a tough write, today. I paint with words, but the metaphor promptly dies right there. Painting and writing are both completely different in how they work, and my writing in particular is aimed at a sort of artistry not seen in Western history, but common enough outside of it. The ultimate subversion is rejecting reality itself — that’s the approximate effect of what I’m doing in our world. As a basic prerequisite to everything else I have to say, if I can get you to embrace the sensory heart, then you have already rejected the whole of Western Civilization (see my book, Redemption and Sexual Identity, chapter 1). That means you’ve already left behind the deepest part of the prison dungeon, and the rest of the way into freedom is much simpler.

It’s also more dangerous.

Dangerous for you because a lifetime of mental habits still belong in the dungeon. They won’t fit out here in the daylight. It’s the difference between feeling your way around versus seeing your new path running over the crest on the far ridge line.

The oppressors guarding the world against our freedom are also limited to feeling their way around. If you can use the eyes of your heart, it’s not much of a task to elude their grasp. The sensory heart is the eye of the soul; it sees the moral landscape as God made it. It works best if you actually focus your consciousness through that faculty, instead of allowing Western social mythology to blind you. But learning to make sense of what this new faculty tells you is a monumental task.

That’s because the foundation is realizing that no two of us will see the same colors, lines, shapes or anything. The whole point is that each of us must be set free to understand the landscape in our own way. So I have this herculean task of explaining vision itself without a common viewpoint possible. You cannot possibly experience the moral realm the same way I do.

What makes it safer is that those who target our freedom can’t see it at all. Then again, they insist you can’t really see what you see, either. But they keep communicating in that same language of tactile certainty, versus your own quirky vision of moral truth. It’s multiple layers of falsehood. We could share a lot of truth, but first have to redefine sharing. Unity is not uniformity. What holds you and I together is our shared rejection of uniformity. We also have to reject the mythology that individuality is inherently isolationist.

We redefine love itself. Again, it’s dangerous ground — a tough write — because the English language is bereft of meaning on that word from having crammed entirely too much into it. Let’s try the language of paradox: As long as you need my affection, you can’t have it, can’t make any use of it. My genuine heartfelt commitment to your welfare means nothing until you see it with your heart. My real-life hug won’t mean a thing until you can sense my love through this blog post first. Not because I say the words, but because you can read the power of the thing itself when I don’t use the words.

When the thing we share is incomprehensible to our enemies, when our greatest power has nothing to do with anything they recognize at all, we have become the mightiest army of God on this earth. Open your heart-eyes. Only then can you see the mighty promises of God as He actually gave them. This thing feeds itself; His divine moral nature as “Law” is its own reward. If it is not sweeter than words on its own terms, you haven’t tasted it yet.

Nothing on earth can stop it.

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World of the Damned

Christ considered death on the Cross as His greatest victory.

Stop reading things like that as religious language with its own sacred meaning. Read that as you would any normal English communication. What our world still thinks of as a tragic failure is Our Savior’s success in His mission. How often do we find all this happy Christian talk of victory that carefully excludes human failure?

When the Lord burned into my consciousness the realization that I had to reject Western Civilization in order to walk with Him, I knew it was a Quixotic mission to tell others. I had no doubt I would share some of Jeremiah’s sense of accomplishment. Indeed, I rather doubt I’ll see nearly as much fulfillment of forewarned wrath that he saw directly with his eyes. And just how much “proof” did Abraham have that God truly intended to make his descendents owners of that land?

So I know how Sister Christine feels in a certain sense. Is it any wonder we both find more comfort from wildlife and foliage than we do from our fellow humans? We are still people and we still need that loving touch somewhere. Jeremiah had supporters who would haul him out of a pit and Abraham had his own private army. We share online a lot because we can hardly get anyone in the flesh to listen.

It really is God’s problem whether anyone listens. We don’t rejoice that the world we know first-hand prefers the big lies. That’s the part that hurts the most, because we know it’s wholly unnecessary. We also know the limits of or calling and the dominion that God has delivered into our hands. You’d be seriously mistaking something if you sensed the least bit of elitism or superiority in our work. Every day we are confronted with the overwhelming evidence of just what kind of Hell we have escaped in this life.

The Apostle John warned that it would only get worse, and that we should get used to it. So we let our light shine into the darkness and count ourselves so utterly fortunate to know what light is. The craft of called elders is to hold out God’s answer for those willing and able to take it. God is the One who actually chooses.

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Grouch No More

Here’s the real miracle: Not that I don’t get sick but that sickness doesn’t get me.

I’ve always tried to face it with humor, but the protective barricades were weak. Thus, I’ve done my best to hide away when ill because I was never fit company for anyone else. Someone trying to play the attentive nursemaid risked my wrath, and my talent for verbal abuse can be really quite substantial, I sadly admit.

In my effort to pray for the next mission in my life, I asked frequently for a softer demeanor. Having a divine calling as a loner need not include a prickly exterior. The whole idea was to avoid making unreasonable demands of others, even while asserting that solitude is a very reasonable choice. If I can’t get away from them, let me at least be more tolerable, O Lord, so that faith shines through.

I am grateful that God’s mercy has reduced my susceptibility to common seasonal sickness, but He never promised there would be none. He designed viruses, too. In previous generations I’d have been long dead from one or more of my various genetic predispositions to infections of various kinds. As a child it was frequent ear infections; as an adult it’s my sinuses taking great delight in sealing up against all efforts at relief and growing bacteria. I’ve gotten better at defeating that using fairly benign means, but none of them are foolproof.

This time through, I’ve managed to keep that at bay. However, this is a tough virus with a long lifespan. My heart told me this was all God’s good training for the mission. In previous times, I would not have been able to accept, much less hear such a message. So instead of grouching, I’m worshiping and longing for a nice walk in the woods.

And that I am able to focus long enough to write this should indicate I’m starting to mend. It’s slow, but His patience is enough for me.

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Sick and Sore

I won’t bore you with the gritty details, but it went like this: Last Wednesday I tore a muscle (Vastus Lateralis) in my left leg at the gym. It wasn’t the sort of thing where I noticed it all at once, but became quite painful later. The next day I got very sick with some kind of cold virus. Both of these have persisted hindering my normal activities through today. I’m okay and I’m generally not sharing my misery with others. When I feel bad I try very hard to be alone, scarce, etc. I am of no use to anyone else right now. Spend more time chasing Robert’s wonderful links from my previous blog post.

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100 useful websites

You gotta see this, from my friend, Robert Lee in Hong Kong.

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