The Living Word and Speakers of Reality

In an interior Alaska January the sun doesn’t come up until nearly 11 A.M.   When it finally peeks above the horizon,  the frost crystals that have formed on top of the snowbanks to sparkle, bringing joy and a renewed sense of wonder to my heart..

There is something appropriate about a late dawning sun making its appearance at a planning retreat—or at least it seemed appropriate to me at that particular retreat.  The planning team needed new energy for its work of making connections between the disparate parts of the church.  Although everyone present knew it was important, no one had any real desire to work on it.  The work was lagging, and the presbytery was suffering because of it.

Amazingly, right near the 11:00 A.M. dawning, someone spoke words that had life in them.  “We need real people to make these connections, in the flesh.  We need to go to the churches, not conference call with them…”  Energy entered the room.  Ideas began to surface so fast it was hard to document them all for later exploration. 

There is great power in sharing the spoken word.  The possibilities that had always been available to   Until the words are spoken and shared, reality remains hidden.

the group suddenly become visible and real.

This is not a new concept of course.  The Hebrew people of old knew the power of speaking:  In Genesis 1:1-2:4 God “speaks” the very universe into existence; and in the Christian Testament the writer of the Gospel of John used a similar Greek cultural awareness by describing the Christ as the living Word of God.  Here is John’s poetry for describing the Christ:

John 1:1-18  The Christ as Word

In the beginning was the Word,

and the Word was with God,

and the Word was God.

He was in the beginning with God.

 All things came into being through him,

and without him not one thing came into being.

What has come into being in him was life,

and the life was the light of all people.

The light shines in the darkness,

and the darkness did not overcome it.

…The true light, which enlightens everyone,

was coming into the world.

He was in the world, and the world came into being through him;

yet the world did not know him.

He came to what was his own,

 and his own people did not accept him.

But to all who received him, who believed in his name,

                         he gave power to become children of God,

Who were born, not of blood or of the will of the flesh or of the will of man,

but of God.

And the Word became flesh and dwelt among us,

and we have seen his glory,

the glory as of a father’s only son,

full of grace and truth.

Hearing this description of the Christ has always had an effect on me.  It is like the light peeking over the horizon and suddenly illuminating what had already crystalized all around me into such beauty.  The more I contemplate what this brings to light the more I find myself standing (or bowing?  How to describe this way of being?) in wonder and amazement of it all.

I find it amazing that our spiritual ancestors, the writers of the scriptures that the Hebrew and Christian people have considered especially inspired, describe all things in terms of

 understanding and expression—which is related to contemplation and action. 

I find it profound that our spiritual ancestors, the contemplators of this God, Who is somehow behind, before, in and through all relationships, return again and again to describing God as Word and God’s creative work as speaking and manifesting the Word.

I find it awe-inspiring that our spiritual ancestors, who recognized that we are not the Creator, but that, in all things, we are in relationship with the Creator, describe the relationship between humans and God as one in which humans are invited to name—to speak provisional meaning on—the things we find while God watches (see Genesis 2:18-25, where the first human creature [not yet male or female]names every thing it finds.  Surely this is a big part of what it is to be human, to seek an understanding of all things)).

I find it poignant that God invites us to know ourselves as naming creatures by nature, yet also to know that in the end all of our best attempts to understand reality cannot bring the fulfillment we need.  In the end fulfillment is not based on our own efforts, but on turning ourselves over to our relationship with God.  Our own efforts at naming reality are so important, certainly—it is what it is to be human—but the limits of who we are should turn us to God.  In the end we rely on God’s desire and ability to bring about new things—perhaps a new possibility (Word) that requires a letting go of our own need for control and an openness to God for the new thing we need.

I think scientists, like all true seekers after truth, have it partly right.  The scientific method is about exploring what we find around us to the best of our ability and naming what we find to the best of our ability.  Science is not about declaring final understanding, but about testing our understandings to improve them, either through refinement or by replacing one way of understanding with newer ones that better name what our universe is about.

I am not a scientist, and so I am speaking out of some relatively untested assumptions here.  But it seems to me that where science sometimes goes wrong, as all human endeavors sometimes go wrong, is to ignore the possibility of an underlying, intentional, unifying principle (Word)  that has all creation’s best interests at heart.  There is a pervasiveness in creation that Christians call grace and that others give other names.  Or, as John puts it, “What has come into being is in him and has life, and that life is the light of all people.”

More on that later.