Star Trek...
I was doing some early morning chores yesterday and I glimpsed up at the stars and noted the twinkle of those distant orbs God spoke to Abraham and later Moses about as a promise. I wondered if on some planet circling another star our faint speck of existence was included in a similar promise by God.

There are stars and then there are stars some so large they would encompass our entire solar system. God used both sand and the stars as a metaphor of promise for Abraham. I think the earthiness of the sand as a foretelling of a New Jerusalem coming down someday, how I haven't the foggiest. Some of course say it'll be the arrival of a bowling trophy for the most Christian of the Christian who've summoned God by their earnestness. Obviously I have some disdain for that ideal; Jesus said He didn't know when He would return only the Father knew.

As with all things God we catch a glimpse here and there but certitude isn't in the equation. I heard much of eschatology as a Charismatic growing up, in retrospect much of it hasn't panned out. The oligarchy mode of Christianizing the planet and thereby holding the place hostage while God is dragged into the scene kicking and screaming doesn't seem to hold water. Something in scripture about the days of Noah comes to mind. Noah a crazy man built an ark out of wood and held it together with tar, no rudder, sail, engine, or even a watertight hatch-God sealed them inside.

The carnivores ate grass with the herbivores and Noah and his family had to do without Starbucks for a while. I don't think the ingenuity of men will have much to do with summoning God almighty to do their bidding. Stars, the opposite end of the spectrum from lowly grains of sand one small, one enormous, the comparison one of import in my mind in that sand can be held in palm of a human hand, a star in the hand of God.

John

I was reading on-line the other day and the issue of a "Simple Gospel" surfaced. What a concept it was to some so passé to others. It seems the uber-mench mentality of Christianity has outdistanced the Jesus of the Gospels, or have we just run rings around something banging pot lids together.

Much is made of our inheritance these days and I marvel at how many have stomped in and demanded theirs and traipsed off with a bundle over their shoulder and a tuneless whistle to while away the miles of their journey. Could this be yet another instance of a prodigal, which I can seem to be obsessed with I suppose, unhappy with the state of affairs at the ranch and taking matters into their own hands?

Much dominion taking these days smacks of "I'd like mine now thanks and I'll see ya later, gater." No wonder that a few years down the road we show-up bedraggled and beat-up edging our way onto the property confused and dazed from malnutrition and exhausted. I've used the collective we here because that's exactly where I've found myself deeply shamed and embarrassed to be considered a Christian. The older brothers of whom I am adept at being as well don't seem to make much sense not that I disdain them, I just don't have any interest in the politics of turf battles, or postures on sinfulness. You can still catch a whiff of pig-sty on me.

Perspective changes indeed when the familiar sight of home comes as one who’s felt a stranger to the place where we came to life in the first place. As with the parable the Father's guests and the Father himself don't seem to notice the shambles we've made of things; we're back we're here we're alive, the oddest guest of honor ever to grace or disgrace a feast with our presence. The lens with which we see the kingdom is adjusted here, either on the faults of others or the goodness and grace of the Father.

John