HEAD(hed), (n.) 1. the top part of the human body or the front part of an animal where the eyes, nose, east and mouth are. "Your brain is in your head." DIBS(dibz), (n.) 2. a thick, sweet syrup made in countries of the East, especially the Middle East, from grape juice or dates. [Arabic "debs"]--World Book Dictionary, 1976.
I’ve been spending the last few months on something I’ve always wanted to do: write a book. I’m using every possible moment on this project and it’s really coming along. I am currently 7 chapters completed out of a potential 20. However, given the source material, each chapter is just a little bit longer than the previous. So who knows when I’ll be finished. I’m learning so much tho!
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The Freedom of True Spirituality (part 3)
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What does true spirituality look like when the Holy Spirit has His way? True spirituality looks like freedom! “Now the Lord is the Spirit, and where the Spirit of the Lord is, there is liberty. But we all, with unveiled face, beholding as in a mirror the glory of the Lord, are being transformed into the same image from glory to glory, just as from the Lord, the Spirit.” (2 Corinthians 3:17)
Rev. Eric Foley, CEO of Seoul USA, asked members of the North Korean underground church how Americans could pray for them. They answered, “You pray for us? We pray for you!” When I asked why, they responded, “Because Western Christians often put so much faith in their prosperity and political freedoms that they don't know what it's like to have to depend completely on God. And because of that, they often do not get to know Him in all the ways He invites us to.'"
One North Korean prisoner described the pitiful conditions he experienced, but being a Christian in prison is the only place to enjoy freedom in Christ: "It's like seminary," he said. "I prayed for others daily. My faith grew by leaps and bounds even as my body decayed."
True Spirituality looks like Jesus.
There is a difference between an impressionist and an impersonator. An impressionist communicates an interpretation.
An impersonator takes on the persona (voice, gestures, etc): i.e. imitators
A truly spiritual person will look like Jesus, “transformed into the same image.” Not merely copying or interpreting, but a metamorphosis if you will. Many look to Jesus as a role model, so they study, practice, impersonate, but never become. Becoming like Jesus culminates in a glory that never fades.
Think on these:
“Whether, then, you eat or drink or whatever you do, do all to the glory of God.” (1 Corinthians 10:31)
“Be imitators of me, just as I also am of Christ.” (1 Corinthians 11:1)
“But we all, with unveiled face, beholding as in a mirror the glory of the Lord, are being transformed into the same image from glory to glory, just as from the Lord, the Spirit.” (2 Cor 3:18)
Being created in His image, we are halfway there. Just let Him author your spirituality and receive His Holy Spirit for the touchdown.
I'm nearly finished reading Joan Didion's collection of essays, Slouching Towards Bethlehem. The book was discovered through another book I was reading, Jon Krakauer's Eiger Dreams . If Jon felt this book was good enough to pack along on a mountain climbing expedition, then I'm interested. Took me three tries, but I finally found my copy on Amazon. One of the best book buys I've made. Joan selected the title of this book from William Butler Yeats' classic poem, Second Coming . The book title is shared with one of her larger essays, a record of encounters with people in the 1960's drug culture. Didion's book is divided into three distinct parts: "Life Styles In The Golden Land," a collection of articles capturing the California experience of the 1960's; "Personals," a few of essays of the first-hand nature; and "Seven Places Of The Mind", some thoughts about those parts of California that are now long gone. One essay...
“VANITY, saith the preacher, vanity! Draw round my bed: is Anselm keeping back? Nephews—sons mine … ah God, I know not! Well— She, men would have to be your mother once, Old Gandolf envied me, so fair she was! What’s done is done, and she is dead beside, Dead long ago, and I am Bishop since, And as she died so must we die ourselves, And thence ye may perceive the world’s a dream. Life, how and what is it? As here I lie In this state-chamber, dying by degrees, Hours and long hours in the dead night, I ask “Do I live, am I dead?” Peace, peace seems all. Saint Praxed’s ever was the church for peace; And so, about this tomb of mine. I fought With tooth and nail to save my niche, ye know: —Old Gandolf cozened me, despite my care; Shrewd was that snatch from out the corner South He graced his carrion with, God curse the same! Yet still my niche is not so cramped...
