Dreaming Reality

As a child, I dwelt in dreamworlds; I drifted from fantastic adventure to adventure, undertaking furious quests against cosmic enemies. I think something deep within me yearned for mystery, magic, mortal danger. Everywhere I turned, men were shrinking the world: we landed on the moon, and found no Man; we stole the thunderbolts from Zeus' very hands; we traveled the world, and found no dragons (only alligators, rendered thoroughly unexciting through their ubiquity in Florida). I wanted no part of such a dull world, a world where no one really ever did anything, because everything was just an accident in the end. I was driven into dreams, hoping for a better world.

As I grew older, I left my dreamworld behind. I began to take "real life," more seriously--school, friends, and, most signficantly, the gospel of Jesus. However, this nagging uncertainty stayed with me, whispering that life should be more, more even than the gospel I knew seemed to offer. The Bible surely seemed to be "good news;" it just wasn't very exciting. If you became a Christian, you essentially agreed to be a good person, which meant giving up many things I, as an adolesecent boy, enjoyed very much. Of course, there was some rumor of a fair exchange, of "riches in heaven," of a sense of "peace that passes understanding" (which, predictably, I didn't understand).

For a long time, it never occurred to me to ask whether the gospel might encompass more than "atonement and sanctification," or if those were even the best lenses to view it through. As often as I heard Jesus' words--"Become like a little child"--I never considered that he might have spoken of my fairy stories. Yet, some months ago, an idea wandered into my head, and has followed me around ever since--I think I have discovered a true story that offers a more thrilling quest, a more unsearchable mystery, and a deeper magic than any I had invented. I found it beneath my very nose--it is the gospel.

Let me tell you this story, perhaps differently than you have heard it before. The gospel begins with a hopelessly beautiful creation, a place of peace, innocence, and joy, a place where God Himself could walk with men. Then, something shatters this harmony--men betray God, tricked by an Enemy, lead on by their deceptive hearts. Men betray God, and the world is broken, the harmony shattered--man to earth, man to man, and man to God, all estranged. The world is broken, left in bondage to the powers of darkness. God, with unfailing devotion, calls together a group of men, entrusting to them a terrible, wonderful secret of a better way to live, a way back to Eden. He calls them to proclaim this secret, until the day when He Himself would come to defeat the powers, and redeem creation. When the time was ripe, He launched this daring rescue mission, entering into the heart of darkness, taking on the likeness of one of his captives. After he had announced and enacted the return of the Kingdom of God, he took on the enemy, absorbed his worst blow, submitted even to death. For three days, death seemed to have triumphed; on the third morning, with the suddenness of a Hollywood explosion, Jesus arose once more, "swallowing up death forever," shaming the powers, breaking once and for all the chains that bound men. He is now leading all men who will follow him out into a new kind of life, through the power of his resurrection, in preparation for a time when he will powerfully restore all of creation to beauty and wholeness. Even as I write, the Kingdom is breaking out, pockets of light erupting in darkness. Awaiting the fullness of redemption, we, his followers, go forth into the world as ambassadors of this better Kingdom, proclaiming Christ's victory, and inviting all men to join in the great Rebellion, this new humanity.

The gospel tells the story of a terrible quest, full of mystery, magic, danger. This might seem novel even to many Christians, but I can assure you, it far predates our atonement theologies. The early church loved to speak of something called "Christus Victor;" it was their way of proclaiming that Christ's resurrection achieved the ultimate victory over evil. The New Testament overflows with this mood: read Colossians 2, Ephesians 1 and 6, 1 Cor. 15, just to name a few places.

The way of Jesus is not dry, reductionistic, or preachy. The way of Jesus is the way of the unsearchable mystery of God's love for us, the magic of the shards of God's glory glimmering in a fallen world, and the terrible danger and suffering of the Cross.