Unveiled

As I painted at my kitchen table the other day, I listened to things. Fun things, weighty things. That's why, in my mind, my portrait of mint is all mixed up with the un-invisible-ization of the Dufflepuds, and a sermon by George MacDonald is wound around the left sleeve of Joe's tuxedo. I'm forever astounded by the good it does me to be steeped in the holy thoughts of wise men about their Creator. In this particular instance I was surprised nearly to tears by the final adventure of Edmund and Lucy at the End of the World in Focus on the Family's adaptation of The Voyage of the Dawn Treader. The language spoke so strongly of our own “far country” that my heart rose up in longing, bitter-sweet. Later, I was surprised by MacDonald, for he was essentially talking about a concept made familiar to me by Andrew M. Greeley's Irish character Nuala Ann, a concept he calls the “mountain behind the mountain”: a spiritual reality behind a physical representation. MacDonald was citing the use Jesus and Paul make of this through figurative language— “the light of glory,” etc... philologically hamstrung just like Ezekiel— to try to put human terms, understandable terms, on divine concepts. He talked about the Transfiguration, about how it was no more a matter of Jesus reflecting the glory of God at that moment than the sun shining because you open the curtains. It was an unveiling. For just a moment the favored three were allowed to see a part of Jesus as He truly is, unveiled. Similarly, C.S. Lewis talks of water in the Utter East that is somehow more wet, more like water than water. This was Jesus more like Jesus than the Jesus we know so little of. What makes us think we see the whole picture?
Tangentially, a human being is more a human being every time it comes closer to its Maker. This is why, as MacDonald put it, the saving of one soul is worth dying for. Safe in the knowledge that I shall live forever in the fullness of my glorified humanity, “What have I to dread? What have I to fear?” Salvation is the practical hope of every moment. I can live poured out with abandon, shrugging off every annoyance because I have nothing to be afraid of, for He who can destroy both body and soul has chosen to call me child. So onward Christian Soldier. As Andree Seu wrote in this week's WORLD Magazine, there is no need to worry yet. “...I'll keep postponing worry five minutes at a time, and trust Jesus one more day, and one more day.”
Lord, help me live up to these convictions!