Christ is risen from the dead, trampling down death by death. And upon those in the tomb, bestowing LIFE!

Today is Pascha or Easter for us Orthodox Christians. At midnight, we greeted this momentous event with the hymn above, along with others, extolling the wondrous work of Christ’s resurrection.

The Gospel reading at every Paschal service is John 1. John begins his Gospel as a Creation story, echoing the themes of Genesis 1. For in Christ and His Pascha, God’s New Creation has begun. The resurrection of God’s people, which is to inaugurate God’s New Creation in the future, has suddenly and surprisingly broken into the here and now through one Man. In the quiet morning hours at a tomb outside of Jerusalem almost two millennia ago, creation’s trajectory was forever altered. The River of Life, as depicted in Ezekiel 47 and proclaimed later by Jesus in John 7, began to trickle from the empty tomb.

I did something a little different this Pascha morning. As my family slept, I watched Blood Diamond. And I prayed and cried. For me, this movie is not entertainment. Rather, it is a stark reminder that two “creations” overlap. God’s New Creation has been injected into a creation festering with greed, violence, lust, hatred, and pain. The very nooks and crannies of God’s good creation and the people he created to care for that creation writhe with evil and death.

The pain of evil is not abstract. It grinds against all of us. It throbs through our news, our communities and our lives. No one is immune.

But neither is the triumph and jubilation of Christ’s resurrection abstract. Nor is it a pie-in-the-sky dream we hold for some distant future. It is here. Where? In those who choose to embrace Christ’s life, to become people increasingly like him. For he is God’s Temple where heaven and earth intersect. And as we become more like him, we too are the Temple. We are God’s Temple from which streams of Living Water begin to trickle and swell, bringing health to a septic and feverish creation.

At the Paschal service, we sing anthems of Christ’s victory over evil and death and we hear about God’s New Creation in John 1. But more importantly, we receive Christ’s Body and Blood. We consume his very LIFE. As he offered his LIFE to his Father for the life of the world, it now empowers us to do the same.

And so Christ’s Pascha transfigures the world’s pain.

Christ is Risen! Truly He is Risen!

Holy God. Holy Mighty. Holy Immortal.

Holy God. Holy Mighty. Holy Immortal.

Holy God. Holy Mighty. Holy Immortal.

Have mercy on us.

Glory be to the Father, and the Son and the Holy Spirit now and ever and through eternity.

I think many genuine Christians loathe the unjust stereotype of being hypocritical, unthinking people. Similarly, I would think many genuine Muslims hate the unjust stereotype of being fanatical terrorists.

But here’s my personal conviction: I think the fear-mongering regarding Obama, Democrats in general, and Muslims in entirety practiced by many Christians in the wider network of relationship to which I belong is just plain evil and opposes anything Jesus practiced or taught. Jesus’ apprentices are called to embody, demonstrate and announce a radical love for all people, even those who would consider us as enemies.

I’m not saying that we turn a blind eye to what is truly happening in the world. There are current governments in our world aimed at destroying Christianity. Some are Muslim, some are not. But the call to love everyone requires a reasoned and inspired response.

“The inner conflict produced by life in the world is easily projected onto the screen of the universe, yielding an imaginary God. Only true stillness can allow the projection to dissipate.” Fr Stephen Freeman, “Unspeakably Speaking”

How true. A cursory, yet honest glance inward provides ample demonstration of this statement’s validity. A period of ministerial burnout and I recast spirituality as strictly an individual inner journey. A sense of betrayal by church leadership and disillusionment and suspicion of leadership reshape my ecclesiology into a non-hierarchical structure. Frustration at fundamentalist interpretations of the Bible reforge a personal hermeneutic of authority and obedience. And the list can go on.

The common theme in the list is that my inner conflict generates ideas about God, usually a God of my own imagination. Yet they are only ideas. They are like thin transparencies lit by a projector of my own inner turmoil. I look toward God and see a slight reflection of my own image. And that should be the warning that I travel in treacherous territory.

The answer isn’t new or different ideas. True theology isn’t about rational ideas. It’s about God. And his invitation is, “Be still and know that I am God.”

I’ve grown up a bit in the last twenty-something years (or at least I hope so). My view of my marriage is now shaped by the future; not what what I hope to get out of the marriage, but what we anticipate our lives will be together. We both dream of growing old together, wrinkled hands entwined, thoroughly enjoying each other. We dream of doing hobbies together, working on the house together, eating out together, serving together. Truly best friends.

That future shapes our present. It’s not just something for which we hope. Rather, in some ways that future comes rushing into our present and determines how we speak and act toward each other now. The vision of that future reality sets the trajectory of our present reality so we will eventually land in that future. In theological terms, we’re experiencing “inaugurated eschatology.”

As Christ’s apprentices, that’s how we should always live our lives on an even grander scale. Through his resurrection, Jesus has released his Father’s New Creation within this present creation. St Paul states that if anyone is in Christ, the person is the New Creation (2Cor 5:17). And in another passage, he states that what truly matters is the New Creation (Gal 6:15). Finally, St John describes the ultimate future reality as the first heaven and earth giving way to the New Heaven and New Earth (Rev 21:1).

Through Scripture, we’re given glimpses of what God’s New Creation will be like. It will be the answer to Jesus’ prayer, “Your kingdom come, your will be done on earth as it is in heaven.” God’s justice will roll like a mighty river as he sets everything right. Evil will finally be vanquished and God will dwell with his people and truly be their King. Creation will be restored and God’s glory will cover the earth as the waters cover the seas. God’s humanity will be resurrected and ready to live in this new environment as modeled by Jesus’ own resurrection.

One can only imagine how God’s restored Creation will impact society, technology, politics, economics, business, domestic and foreign policies, environmental issues, medicine, law, education, relationships and all other facets of society.

As we view signposts in Scripture pointing toward God’s New Creation, we are challenged and compelled to embrace “inaugurated eschatology.” As the New Creation in human form, we are to let even the vaguest imaginations of God’s restored future shape our present.

While the myriad applications exceed the purpose of this post, I would like to offer one application with which I’ve been challenged. In his commentary, Hebrews for Everyone, NT Wright states:

“True gratitude both for the present world and for the world to come is the deepest and truest form of worship… When you bow down before the living God and thank him from the bottom of your heart for what he’s done and for what he will do, it is as though you are a priest in the Temple, offering the purest, most unblemished sacrifice. Only much, much more so. That is the privilege of the being a follower of Jesus the Messiah. That is the life to which our fiery God now calls us.”

Not only am I to thank God for what he’s done and is doing, but what he will do. As a I’m being restored by Christ into a Eucharistic being, my gratitude must expand to encompass what God will do. And as I learn to be genuinely thankful for God’s future, even when my personal brokenness prevents me from being ready for it myself, I’m discovering that it’s shaping me and altering my current trajectory. In other words, being thankful for what is to come is making want to be ready for what is to come and more willing to cooperate with Jesus’ transformation in my life.

“Rebuke no one, criticize no one, not even those who live very wickedly.”

“Spread your robe over those who fall into sin, each and every one, and shield them.”

“And if you cannot take the fault on yourself and accept their punishment in their place, do not destroy their character.”

I’ve recently had several conversations about a saying that John Wimber made popular in the Vineyard movement. He used to say, “I want to grow up before I grow old.” This pithy statement would always evoke a laugh from the audience. But now in my 40′s, I’m realizing how important a life-goal this should be.

Most of the posts on my blog basically say the same thing. The core desire of my life is to be reformed into a person that naturally and easily embodies Jesus’ character into the world.

Through his resurrection, Jesus has inaugurated his Father’s restoration of the world he created and loves. That project is being further implemented by those who answer Jesus’ radical call to follow him and become his apprentices.

From a human standpoint, Jesus’ call seems absolutely crazy. Love God with everything you are. Forgive everyone for everything. Be joyful always. Pray continually. Give thanks in every circumstance. And the list could go on.

But this list is not a checklist of things to do. Rather, it’s a description, even a promise, of the kind of person we can be under Jesus’ tutelage.

Based on the average life expectancy of a man in the United States, I’m past the halfway point. This has caused a lot of internal reflection over the past couple of years. Much of my youth, even with my best intentions, was spent pursuing the wrong values; painting my life with colors I thought were attractive. But as the paint has begun to dry, I’ve realized I don’t like how it looks.

Sayings such as St Isaac’s, one of Jesus’ successful apprentices, remind me that there is a better way to live, a better way to be. And they compel me to repaint my life, hoping that when the paint finally dries in the latter part of my life, I will have chosen the proper colors that reflect Christ into the world and that help a bit in the renewal of this world that he loves.

As I was leaving home for work this morning, I was greeted by a sight that made me pause. On a little shelf near our front door sat one small googly eye. You know the kind. The little white plastic eye with a black disc that you find on stuffed toys.

I have no idea from which toy this eye originated or how long it’s been quietly watching my family’s comings and goings. But for the slightest of moments, with my briefcase and lunchbox in one hand and door keys in the other, I paused… and was bathed with the sensation of thankfulness.

It’s difficult to explain how a simple plastic thing like that would carry such meaning other than to say that it reminded me that my home is filled with abundant LIFE and JOY. Every day I look forward to returning home from work to be greeted by the sights and sounds of my beautiful wife and four awesome kids and two rambunctious puppies. I love walking into our kitchen knowing that our nourishment and refreshment is lovingly prepared by our hands. I love walking into our living room and seeing our icon corner with images of Christ, his Mother, the cross and several saints, reminding me that we are truly surrounded and supported by a cloud of witnesses. I love sitting at our dining room table and sharing a nightly meal filled with talk and laughter with the ones I adore or having conversations over coffee in the morning. I love walking into our backyard and playing with our puppies.

In moments like these you almost expect to hear the social networking cliche, “Life is good!” But life is ALWAYS good, whether one is experiencing chaos or calmness. This isn’t a “Look at how good life is for me” post. Rather, it’s a reminder that I’m being restored as a Eucharistic being. Eucharist is thanksgiving. Christ’s life in me is restoring my core being as a person filled and living with thanksgiving toward God. And this is expressed in the minutest daily moments and in love for those all around me.

Now don’t you go rolling your googly eye at me.

“The Church has been established in the world to celebrate the Eucharist, to save man by restoring his Eucharistic being. The Eucharist is impossible without the Church, that is, without a community that knows its unique character and vocation — to be love, truth, faith and mission — all of these fulfilled in the Eucharist; even simpler, to be the Body of Christ. The Eucharist reveals the Church as a community — love for Christ, love in Christ — as a mission to turn each all to Christ. The Church has no other purpose, no ‘religious life’ separate from the world. Otherwise the Church would become an idol. The Church is the home each of us leaves to go to work and to which one returns with joy in order to find life, happiness and joy, to which everyone brings back the fruits of his labor and where everything is transformed into a feast, into freedom and fulfillment, the presence, the experience of this ‘home’ — already out of time, unchanging, filled with eternity, revealing eternity. Only this presence can give meaning and value to everything in life, can refer everything to that experience and make it full.”  The Journals of Father Alexander Schmemann 1973-1983, p. 25

So, yesterday turned into an interesting day. Debbie and I ended up spending four hours in the emergency room. It wasn’t life-threatening. Urgent care was closed and the ER was our only option.

“What happened?” you ask. Deb and Chris were out walking our puppies around the block. Deb was walking fast and her foot caught a raised part of the sidewalk. She partially slowed her fall with her knee and wrist, but her chin and mouth hit the sidewalk. The impact tore two deep gashes in her bottom lip and chipped one of her front teeth.

Four hours in ER and she left with two stitches on her lip. She vows she will be hiring a stunt double for the remainder of her stunts.

But here’s the reason for this post’s title. While in ER experiencing a lot of pain herself, Deb saw an older lady who was sitting alone and obviously struggling with intense pain. So with a cold and bloody compress applied to her gashed lip, Deb limped over to the lady, put her arm around her and engaged her in conversation to comfort her.

And that, my friends, is why I love this woman who has chosen to share her life with me. I get to see and experience this unique woman everyday. And 23 years of marriage have only deepened my love and respect for her.

I don’t know about you, but I don’t think about the emergency room unless I have to go to one. Through most of my life, I forget they even exist. By their very nature, they are places of pain, misery, and fear. Yesterday reminded me that on holidays, when most people are with family and friends, emergency rooms are filled with people who are afraid, sometimes alone, and in agony.

During our four hours, I heard an infant screaming in pain for our entire visit. As we were preparing to leave, I watched his young parents hovering over him with worry as he was hooked up to tubes and wires and wheeled away on a gurney to another location in the hospital. I watched an older man who had fallen and was writhing in pain from something broken inside his body. And there were dozens more who were sick and suffering.

And all of us can be mere moments from being in the same place. Our day was spent fulfilling our busy plans. Walking the puppies is a normal activity we do a couple times a day. It was a simple way to spend five minutes before we moved onto our next activity. But a misplaced step on a crack less than an inch high suddenly causes life to spiral in a completely different direction.

Yet despite our day’s new trajectory and through her own pain, Deb showed compassion to a lonely and suffering lady, connecting a bit of heaven to a broken earth in the ER. And that’s why I love her.

Bentley’s interest in snowflakes began as a teenager. At the age of 15, he would peer at snowflakes through a microscope and attempt to draw the complex images before they melted. By the age of 20, he had attached a camera to the microscope and spent the rest of his life capturing and photographing what he called “tiny miracles of beauty.” Mind you, this was 1885 and way before our modern era of digital photography.

Tragically, Bentley died of pneumonia after walking six miles in a blizzard in order to photograph more snowflakes.

Bentley’s life made me think about beauty. First, here’s a man who spent his entire life enraptured by a beauty that most would rarely ever notice. And he was not only enraptured, but dedicated to endure the hardships necessary to document this beauty. It has made me pause and reflect about what beauty has captured my attention and allegiance.

Second, beauty is not everlasting. Bentley’s snowflakes are the perfect example. Within minutes these “tiny miracles of beauty” evaporate and vanish forever. The vibrancy of a sunset quickly darkens as the sun slips below the horizon. The gleam in a lover’s eye dims with age or sickness.

Third, considering the gazillion unseen snowflakes that have fallen to earth through the ages, there is beauty that will always go unseen by any human eye. There are flowers on a mountain somewhere that will bloom and die, unwitnessed by any terrestrial being. And then I think of the untold beauty throughout our cosmos. Images from the Hubble Telescope can only hint at the beauty that lies far beyond our reach.

Our world has been intentionally infused with beauty, everything from a snowflake, a flower, a sunset to a smile and a caring hand. It makes me grateful that our Creator loves his world so much that he sent his Son. God came into our world to save it and renew it. And this makes me long for that ultimate Day of Renewal when Heaven and Earth will fully merge, all things will be made right and beauty will no longer be fleeting.

“You love me more than I am able to love you.”

That line appears in one of Met Philaret of Moscow’s prayers. And it makes me pause every time I pray it.

In my previous youthful zeal and optimism, it was so easy to proclaim my love of God as though it were a grand thing. My worship was a spiritual facsimile of Tom Cruise jumping up and down on a couch. But the older I become, the more I realize that the truth quoted above is woven into the very fabric of reality. And it has tempered my immature exuberance with what I hope is humility. For my love for God is not something that needs to be proudly proclaimed in public but humbly practiced in silence.

God is love and perhaps the greatest expression of his love was the Incarnation. It was THE event of divine love that would heal humanity and creation and yet it was shrouded in quietude, humility and mystery.

Jesus taught that the greatest command is to love God with everything we have. Again, love is not proclaimed but practiced. But how? The Incarnation whispers an answer for those quiet enough to hear. “God became like us so we could become like him.”

God, who is love, became like us so we could become love like him.

St Paul encourages us to pursue love. This means far more than giving and receiving love, although  this would be a great start for many of us. Rather it’s pursuing Christ’s likeness, who embodied divine love as a real flesh-and-blood human being. We quietly love God by daily becoming the same kind of person he is.

The Incarnation isn’t just a historical event that we memorialize once a year. It’s a daily reality for those who love God. Just as God quietly and humbly slipped into his creation on that mysterious day, he still slips into his creation through our lives as we pursue love and become a little more like him.

So Fr Stephen’s definition of Tradition is like stepping out of a stuffy room into a crisp winter morning. It jolts the idea with fresh vitality.

Tradition is not the tyranny of the past over the present: Tradition is the adherence to the same eternal reality throughout all time.

Behind Tradition is the eternal reality of an amazing God. He’s a Creating God, giving life abundant expression under his care. He’s an Incarnational God, loving his creation so he becomes part of it in order to renew it from the inside-out. He’s an Apocalyptic God, embodying the ultimate union of heaven and earth so creation is restored and redefined. He’s a Loving God, sharing his life with ours in order that we may be continually reformed into his life and likeness.

So Tradition is the temporal expression of this eternal reality. Tradition is alive, rich, relevant, interactive, invigorating, rejuvenating, renewing, energetic, dynamic and vibrant.

Reading Scripture. Praying prayers. Making the sign of the cross. Honoring the Saints. Receiving the Eucharist. Confessing our sins. All open the windows to the brisk breeze of eternity, shocking us back to what is truly real.

Then I saw THIS CLIP. I think this 1-minute clip is filled with same ethos that I love in the LOTR movies. What draws me to the LOTR movies are not the special effects, the fantasy, or the violence. It’s those startling moments when the curtain of reality is pulled back and we get a glimpse of true Reality. Moments of purpose, companionship, loyalty, and sacrifice that make sense of the pain and struggles we endure.

Those moments in LOTR continually move me to tears. And the last few sentences of the dialogue between Gandalf and Bilbo in this clip created a severe lump in my throat.

Gandalf: You’ll have a tale or two to tell of your own when you come back.

Bilbo: Can you promise that I will come back?

Gandalf: No… And if you do, you will not be the same.

There are moments in life when I can only shake my head in confusion and disbelief. And asking “Why?” provides no adequate answers. But it’s not those moments that are truly real or defining, despite how real they seem. It’s what, or better yet, Who awaits us at the End that is the True Reality and Purpose for everything.

I think it’s in our nature to want to make sense of what’s happening to us. Why am I sick? Why did I lose my loved one? Why am I lonely? But the meaning can’t be found in the moment. In many ways, it’s only after our life’s journey is complete that we will be able to look back with clear hindsight. But by then it’s too late. The paint on our life will have dried.

So the task in the moment is not to figure out Why but to be crafted through those moments into an ever-increasing image of Who. Because the only promise that awaits us is not that we’ll safely return from the journey, but that we’ll never be the same after the journey.

But through the help of various sources, I’ve been experiencing a significant turnaround. Perhaps the most notable is a sense of thanksgiving and gratitude I have for life, both the good and bad. I find myself thanking God each day for not only the perceived good in my life, but the potential challenges and struggles that I’m currently encountering and will potentially experience through the day

This change is subtle, yet alters the landscape of my perception. The crises that always seemed to loom before me don’t seem to be so “life-threatening” anymore. In turn, this has allowed me to focus on what God actually sets before me each day. You know, the “small” daily things like loving my wife and kids, performing with integrity and compassion at work, driving on southern California roads with patience and peace toward those around me

More and more I’m learning the myriad of small moments are what actually make up the fabric of real life. And how I live in those moments determines both who I am becoming inwardly and the “impact” I have upon my little portion in God’s world

In that light,  I want to share a couple of wonderful articles that paint portraits of genuine life far more beautiful than I can manage with my limited skills with words. The first is the blog post, “The Invisible Christian,” by Fr Stephen Freeman. And the second is “Pursuing God through the Small Things,” by Joel Miller. I would encourage you to spend a few moments reading these articles and allowing them to reframe your perception of what is important and valuable in life.

The Epistle to the Romans is viewed as Paul’s theological masterpiece. NT Wright states in his commentary on Romans that while many will disagree on how to approach and interpret Romans, “What nobody doubts is that we are here dealing with a work of massive substance, presenting a formidable intellectual challenge while offering a breathtaking theological and spiritual vision.”

Yet, here at the end of Paul’s theological magnum opus, we find a small window into the genuine street-level embodiment of his theology — love. He greets people by name. He calls a few “beloved.” He proclaims with exuberance those who have risked much and served well. These are his genuine friends. These are loved ones for whom he prays. These dear ones of whom he thinks frequently.

Who knows how all of their lives first intersected. Who knows who introduced one person to another? Who knows who invited one person to dinner to meet another? And Paul is part of this intricate web of friendships. Yes, he’s an apostle. Yes, he’s a recognized leader. But most importantly, he’s their friend and co-worker in Christ. They have rejoiced together, cried together, prayed together, learned together, shared their lives together. Somehow in his wisdom, God brought all of them together into a loving and prayerful community of his Good News for the life of the world.

And that made me smile this morning.

Then it made me think about everyone whom God has brought into my life over the years.

And now I can’t stop smiling.

“Let no one bewail his poverty, for the universal kingdom has been revealed. Let no one weep for his iniquities, for pardon has shown forth from the grave. Let no one fear death, for the Savior’s death has set us free. He that was held prisoner of it has annihilated it. By descending into Hell, He made Hell captive. He embittered it when it tasted of His flesh. And Isaiah, foretelling this, did cry: Hell, said he, was embittered, when it encountered Thee in the lower regions. It was embittered, for it was abolished. It was embittered, for it was mocked. It was embittered, for it was slain. It was embittered, for it was overthrown. It was embittered, for it was fettered in chains. It took a body, and met God face to face. It took earth, and encountered Heaven. It took that which was seen, and fell upon the unseen.

“O Death, where is your sting? O Hell, where is your victory? Christ is risen, and you are overthrown. Christ is risen, and the demons are fallen. Christ is risen, and the angels rejoice. Christ is risen, and life reigns. Christ is risen, and not one dead remains in the grave. For Christ, being risen from the dead, is become the first fruits of those who have fallen asleep. To Him be glory and dominion unto ages of ages. Amen.”

AMEN!!!

And now with St John’s word still echoing, read St Paul’s exhortation in Colossians 3:

“Since, then, you have been raised with Christ, set your hearts on things above, where Christ is seated at the right hand of God. Set your minds on things above, not on earthly things. For you died, and your life is now hidden with Christ in God. When Christ, who is your life, appears, then you also will appear with him in glory… Therefore, as God’s chosen people, holy and dearly loved, clothe yourselves with compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness and patience. Bear with each other and forgive whatever grievances you may have against one another. Forgive as the Lord forgave you. And over all these virtues put on love, which binds them all together in perfect unity.”

I cannot say enough how much I enjoy being her dad. She is such a creative, energetic, joyful, intelligent, gorgeous young woman. A little over 18 years ago, Debbie and I brought her home as a tiny little baby. Watching her grow from an infant into a young adult has been a wondrous experience filled with laughter, tears, prayers, delight and regrets. I love the person she has become and look forward to watching God use her in his world. She easily fills any room with her abundant exuberance. I cannot imagine a day without her smile and presence in our lives.

But Catherine’s graduation, as with Michael’s graduation two years ago, forces me to reflect on the ongoing changes occurring in my family. In five short years, all four of my children will have graduated high school.

I remember when my children were very young. Their adulthood seemed so far in the future that I rarely thought about it. And now in what seems like a flash, that future is here. My cherished babies are gone, replaced by equally cherished emerging adults.

I’m amazed at how fast this part of our family’s life has gone. Yet, more startling than the quickness of time’s passage is the permanence. It’s gone. My babies turned into toddlers, went to school, grew up and are sprinting toward their adult lives. Each day brings Debbie and me closer to when we have to say “Good-bye” to each one as their hearts transition from our family and home to begin their own.

Over the past few years, if I could have been granted one wish, I would have asked for time to stop so that my family could be suspended as is. I would have given virtually anything to spend the rest of my life with my family. But then after having such a thought, I would immediately realize how selfish such a wish is. My children need to grow and become who God created them to be, even if that means I had to let them go. In fact, it requires that I do let them go. And I absolutely hate it.

In several hours, my daughter will step over this threshold into adulthood. And I will sit in the stands and cheer for her. Afterwards, I will hug and kiss her and celebrate her entrance into this new phase of life with unspeakable pride and joy.

But right now, in the shadow of this looming moment, I miss my little girl. In my heart and memories, I hold my little baby in my arms. I feel her tiny hand wrap around my finger. I feel her curl on my lap to watch TV with me. I watch her play with her dolls and dress up as a princess. I see her twirl and dance and sing. I hear her say, “I love you, Daddy.”

I love you too, Sweetie. I love you too. I don’t want to let you go. But I will.

“The holiness to which the Church is called is not a matter of escape from the mundane course of human events, from time, or from everything that is not explicitly Christian. The Eucharist is an incarnational meal in which the risen Lord becomes present in the rude stuff of this life, even as he became present in human history through the womb of the Theotokos. The line between the mundane and the holy is here erased because it is precisely as the ordinary, whether a baby or bread and wine, that the Son of God comes to us. The connection to moral theology should be obvious. God claims the physical and mundane things of life as His own in the incarnation. The mystery of the Incarnate Word as fully God and fully human shows that every bit of human nature has been claimed by God in Jesus Christ. A continued participation in that process of claiming occurs when Christ becomes present to us in the Eucharist, when we sacramentally take His body and blood into our body and blood.” (Philip LeMasters PhD, Towards a Eucharistic Vision of Church, Family, Marriage & Sex)

The above quote was posted this morning by Fr Ted. It is so good that I think it bears reposting. God makes himself known through the fabric of daily life. He can be found in the mundane and even the monotonous and thus transforms it into the holy. This is how I want to live life.

“All men want peace; but they do not know how to attain it. Paissy the Great, having lost his temper, begged the Lord to deliver him from irritability. The Lord appeared to him and said, ‘Paissy, if thou dost not wish to get angry, desire nothing, neither criticize nor hate any man, and thou wilt have no anger.’ Thus every one who renounces his own will before God and other people will always be at peace in his soul; but the man who likes to have his own way will never know peace. The soul that has surrendered herself to the will of God bears every affliction and every ill with ease, because in times of sickness she prays and contemplates God, saying: ‘O Lord, Thou seest my sickness; Thou knowest how weak and sinful I am. Help me to endure my sufferings and to thank Thee for Thy goodness.’ And the Lord relieves her pain, and the soul feels God’s help and is glad in the sight of God, and gives thanks. If some misfortune befalls you, reflect in this wise: ‘The Lord sees my heart, and if this is His will all will be well, both for me and for others.’ And thus your soul will always be at peace. But if a man murmurs against his fate he will never have peace in his soul, even though he fast and spend much time in prayer. The Apostles were deeply attached to the will of God. In this manner is peace preserved. All the great Saints likewise bore with every affliction, submitting themselves to the will of God.” Staretz Silouan, Wisdom from Mount Athos

“We are made whole (healed) by the grace of God, and brought into a relationship with Him that is our true inheritance. Heaven and hell are not places created by God for those who were good, or bad, but rather about relationship. The Fire of God is heaven for those who have responded to God’s love, and hell for those who have remained in the darkness of sin (sickness), and whose ego has shut out God, for self. Heaven and hell are not places, but all about relationship.” Abbot Tryphon

I’ve written about this before, but it’s worth revisiting. Our culture’s understanding of heaven and hell is severely distorted. Too often, heaven and hell are viewed as future destinations either to reward the good or punish the bad.

However, as Fr Stephen Freeman is fond of saying, “Jesus did not come to make bad men good, but dead men alive.” What is at stake is the transformation of human nature, which is so fractured, distorted and sick that it’s dead. And in this dead state, we shut out God. That is hell. In our brokenness, we constantly live in hell.

So the issue isn’t ethics or morality. You can’t tell a corpse to behave better. The only hope is Resurrection. For the Resurrection is the inauguration of God’s Renewed Creation. And the power of the Resurrection brings life to all of us who are dead. This is the point of Ezekiel 37 and Jesus’ retelling of that vision in the Story of the Prodigal Son. The son wasn’t restored because he “got his act together” or because he apologized to the Father. He experienced Resurrection. He returned from exile and back into relationship with his father and his household.

When a person experiences the Resurrection, the process of transformation begins. And this is heaven. Heaven is being loved by God and being able to love him back, regardless of circumstance. Heaven is loving and living God’s will regardless of the pain or sacrifice one experiences. Heaven is being transformed into Christ’s likeness from the inside-out.

As Jesus hung upon the cross absorbing the world’s sin and evil upon himself, he was in heaven. In the midst of hell, he was in heaven.

So heaven and hell are descriptions primarily of our relationship with God. But are there future destinations of heaven and hell? I believe so. It’s called the New Creation. One day, God will renew his Creation. He will set all things right. Jesus’ prayer will fully be answered as heaven and earth finally overlap and God’s reign will be on earth (the human realm) as it is in heaven (God’s realm). And in the New Creation, God’s glory will cover the earth as the water covers the seas. This will be the ultimate and eternal experience of heaven and hell.

And on that day when God renews his Creation and drenches it with his undiminished glory, his very love and presence will be like an eternal inextinguishable lake of fire for those who shut him out. And that same love and presence will be indescribable joy for those who have been transformed into his likeness and live only for his will.

So heaven and hell begin now. Each of us is on that journey every day.