Relating eyes to sight

Yesterday I happened to have two separate conversations about sight. First was a question I get pretty often: How do I have a relationship with someone I can't see? (Jesus, for instance). And the second was a question about Ephesians 1: What does Paul mean by 'the eyes of your hearts'?

It occurs to me that the answer to question two might also be a good answer to question one. The 'eyes of our hearts' refers to our imagination and understanding. Genuine relationship—even with people we can 'see'—is so rich with imagination and understanding (experience). It hardly depends on physical sight at all.

On this basis, we're at almost no disadvantage to Jesus' first disciples. And like any genuine relationship, the more time we spend with Jesus, the narrower the gap between our imagination and our understanding (experience).

On surrender and love

“[The Father] has delivered us from the domain of darkness and transferred us to the kingdom of his beloved Son”

— Colossians 1:12 ESV

My simplest answer to the question What do you do? is this: I help people adapt to heaven culture. When people accept Jesus' invitation to follow him, they leave one culture and enter another, very different, culture. This defection requires full surrender. But surrender to whom?

Christians are often encouraged to 'lay down their rights'—to surrender. And I think we confuse this with love. We're called to love and to serve other Christians, our neighbors, even our enemies. But we don't surrender to their expectations. We surrender to God. Jesus didn't surrender to Pilate's expectations, he surrendered to the Father's will. (John 19:10-11, Matthew 26:39)

Once we've surrendered to God, self-denying others-oriented love becomes an act of spiritual warfare. And it should be waged aggressively and indiscriminately.

The edge of mayo

Many sciences study 'edge effects'—the nature of boundaries. In Ecology, for instance, activity and diversity are greatest where forests meet meadows, meadows meet ponds, and seas meet shipwrecks.

We're told oil and water don't mix. Stir them together and they separate. But the truth is, if we shake them vigorously enough we make mayonnaise or latex paint—millions of tiny oil droplets (let's call them bubbles) suspended in water—with lots and lots of edge.

Churches are called bubbles and we criticize those 'inside the bubble'. But it's what's inside that preserves the bubble's nature and character. The inside supports the life, activity, and diversity at the edge of the bubble—out there. The problem arises when churches haven't been shaken recently. And they coalesce and separate from the world. Far less edge.

Edges are life-giving. Workplaces, local and global missions, neighborhoods—all are places where believers touch others' lives in ways that can be healing and attractive. Like ecologists, we can increase activity and promote diversity just by adding 'edge' (Acts 1:8).

But often it's God who has to do the shaking to get us 'out there' and increase our edge. Consider a few examples: Babel in Genesis 11 (confusion), Christ's death in Mark 15:38 (new paradigm), the diaspora in Acts 8 (persecution). Also the flight of the Pilgrims to the New World, Martin Luther's Reformation, wars, famines, and refugee migrations.

As someone once said, "It's Acts 1:8 or it's Acts 8:1". Either way, it's about existing as healthy bubbles with plenty of edge.