A Complexity Complex

I've been teaching from Galatians in my Bible class. The theme is life by faith through the Spirit as opposed to through following the law. I've really been enjoying it, and my students have been understanding it. That's something, anyway.
One of the verses that sticks out to me as I review is Galatians 5:14: "For the whole Law is fulfilled in one word, in the statement, 'You shall love your neighbor as yourself.'"
The whole Law. Not just one chapter of Deuteronomy, not just a couple commandments, but all of it. Summed up in loving others. I thought of a section toward the end of The Friendly Persuasion as I read and re-read this: Jess, the main character, keeps trying to do what is good and get this little boy to do what is good for goodness' sake, and he realizes there's a problem with that, concluding that all he really is supposed to do is love his fellow man. The idea expressed is that love isn't just for ethereal goodness' sake, but for the sake of relational others and a relational God's. I makes sense, but trying to apply it is difficult.
Why would God make humans so complex, put us in such complex societies with complex lifestyles that include things like money and culture and education, if all we're supposed to do is love?

A love that fills every action in this life must be as labyrinthine and multi-faceted as God, for He is love.

Jumbled

I set to discourse on my God. My thesis was His name.
But Jeff Garcia spoke up first, and I jumbled my words.
The Scarlet Thread became "Scarlet Begonias."

I bowed my head to lift a hymn of deepest mystery.
"Amazing Grace" and "My Sweet Lord" were fused and then were blurred.
Was Newton or was Harrison more ashamed?

Finally, I recognized the truth is not from me.
The word of God must come from God so it is not impured.
The uncultured, uneducated Truth is sitting on my shelf.

A Carol

"Hallelujah, Humiliation"

Equality with Deity
He did not seek to grasp.
Instead He donned man's flesh upon
Himself, His love His clasp.

Through labor pains to stable plain
Was Infinite confined,
Corporeal, memorial
Of God's plan for mankind.

Hallelujah, humiliation!
He put Himself to degradation.
Hallelujah, humiliation!
The stepping down, the Incarnation.

Heaven's beloved, the nature of
A servant did betake,
Obedient and lenient
For Law and grace's sake.

This awesome goal gave Jesus' soul
Abode in Bethlehem:
The Son of God with flesh was shod
To save the souls of men.

Hallelujah, humiliation!
He put Himself to degradation.
Hallelujah, humiliation!
The stepping down, the Incarnation.

Now, Christians, all hark to His call
To follow His Advent.
He will robe you in bodies new
To pass through firmament.

Hallelujah, the restoration!
His remnant is a new creation.
Hallelujah, the restoration!
Salvific love, propitiation.

Goodness

I like making theories.  In a high school class entitled "human behavior," I'd make up theories about psychology.  One, which I'm pretty sure was wrong, was that each person can only retain a set amount of knowledge, and their personality is totally based on the knowledge retained from their first years of childhood.  It's bogus.  In college, I tried to limit myself to theories on history.  I had a good one in my "History of China" class, but I'm not terribly interested in Chinese history, so I used it in a paper and promptly lost the data.  Teaching has led me to come up with some educational theories, the main one being that learning has almost nothing to do with the teacher (I know it's not true, but sometimes I wonder...).  Mostly, though, my life experience deals with being a Christian, so I've made plenty of theological theories.  One of these, and I think lots of Christians share it, is that Christians go through phases of being taught certain lessons, to the point that most believers can say "God has really been teaching me _____________ lately."

Well, God has really been teaching me that He is the Author of Goodness.  I've spent the last year and a half or so thinking of Christianity as a privileged duty.    I've been thinking in terms of my response and not in terms of God's grace.  I act as though my faith starts with God but ends with me.  In reality, my faith starts with God and ends with God, extending an undeserved and unreturnable grace to me.  I'm starting to understand the answer in the Westminster Catechism to the question of "What is the chief end of man?"

Answer:  Man's chief and highest end is to glorify God and fully enjoy Him forever.

In Stephen Lawhead's book series The Song of Albion, the Celtic characters sometimes refer to God is the "Gifting-Giver."  Should I meet God on a mountain, I want it to be Calvary and not Sinai.

Adam of the Amazon

Standing on the peak of a South American mountain, overlooking the Amazon, I felt the same feeling as when I viewed the source of the Nile in Africa, the one Mark Twain writes about as he stands in the ancient city of Tangier, Morocco, in The Innocents Abroad.  I was too modern to juxtapose myself with this place.  My blue jeans, faded by manufacturers more than wear, clashed with the endless jungle.

Longing to be Adam, to be a part of the pristine world, I removed my clothing.  My attempt to be a part of a fall-less world was impaired, however, by the trail behind me.  Someone might come, might laugh, might feel embarrassed.  Someone might see me.  I took a quick glance around and slipped my legs back into my pants.  I couldn't stand there in "all my glory," because I was no longer glorious.  I was not Adam of the Amazon; I was a tourist from a broken world.

The desire to regain that place, to stand in Adam's steps, is one I feel no shame in possessing.  But the shame itself is another thing.  Meditating on this experience, I am forced to see that my own humiliation is nothing compared to the Incarnation, let alone the Crucifixion.  And because of that, a brighter glory is ahead, one with white robes to wear, with a more pristine world to stand proudly in.

"A Lover is like Narcissus"

A lover is like Narcissus

Or Eros to Psyche.

In offering his love the best,

He says, "The best is me!"

But how can man this justify

If first he loves his brother?

One cannot love a plural first

Unless the self is other.

Disgusted at lovers' conceits,

We leave them to our loss.

But self-love finds a selfless place

In the Man Upon the Cross.

Augustine

I was reading through the old saint's Confessions this morning, and I came upon an interesting little section. I'd quote it and let you love it, but I left it at home, so I'll just paraphrase.

Basically, Augustine was talking about how it's not wrong to love "corporeal objects." Rather, our love of all worldly things is good, because it makes us love the Giver more. Only in our self-deception can we ever love the object without giving glory to its Maker, and so, Augustine says, go on and love the world appropriately.

I usually just can't do that. I really like a lot of things. I love backpacking, but half the time, I only love it because it makes me feel cool. I like writing, even writing about how wonderful God is, but I often turn to scholarship or style instead of the Author of all things good.

I read a little Decartes the other day, and he was talking about purging himself of all things that are doubtable so he can start over fresh. I'd sometimes like to purge myself of all loves that are empty on their own and be made new. But I've already been made new. Weird.