Lessons from Old Covenant Glory

Have you ever struggled to get through Leviticus? Me too. The psalms speak often of David’s deligh in God’s law, but if you’re like me, I’ve always hard a hard time getting through the Bible’s law books. They’re so long and so mind-numbingly detailed.

But a closer look reveals that it’s precisely the level of detail in the law books that lends so much richness and depth to the Old Covenant. In 2 Cor. 3:7-8, Paul says the Old Covenant came with glory.

One of the reasons we have a hard time seeing God as central in every gritty detail of our lives could be that we’ve forgotten the glory of the biblical Old Covenant. We’ve forgotten the beauty of a life blueprint that shows the people of God how to see and follow Him in every aspect of their lives.

In their painstaking detail, these laws guided the Israelites into a way of fulfilling that aching heart cry—when can I go and meet with God?—in the context of their everyday lives. God lived with them, after all, and called them to a radical re-centering of their lives—not just a devoting of certain minutes to transcendent thoughts.

Living in the Present Moment

In one of my previous posts, I discussed Brother Lawrence’s idea of “practicing the presence of God.” In a nutshell, this post described how Brother Lawrence discovered peace and meaning in the mundane by consciously and consistently welcoming God into each moment.

In Transformed into Fire, author Judy Hougen discusses a way to take this concept deeper, and perhaps make it more practical: focus on and live in the present moment that you are welcoming God into. 

As Hougen discusses in her book, practicing the presence of God as near in the real, physical moment necessitates that you first embrace and live fully in your present moment. In order to recognize and welcome God into even the gritty moments of your life, you must first ground yourself in the moment that you wish to welcome him into. 

Hopkins’ Vision of God’s Grandeur

Gerald Manley Hopkins saw God’s glory everywhere, and it so inspired him that he sought to capture it in poetic verse.  In the resulting poem, “God’s Grandeur,” Hopkins proclaims God’s glory as interwoven into our world, unfading and irrevocable.

A Jesuit priest and nineteenth-century English poet, Hopkins pushed the boundaries of Victorian convention. Most notably, he began the use of sprung rhythm (a form that allowed for more variety in syllable stresses) and employed much more detailed, concrete imagery than was common in the Victorian era, which tended to center on abstract ideals.

In “God’s Grandeur,” Hopkins uses concrete details to create vivid imagery that reinforces his theme of God’s glory in the details. The result is a riveting, innovative poem. Even if you’re not that into poetry, give this one a try. Read it slowly, carefully. Sink into the images and words, and let them sink into you.

Practicing the Presence of God

Brother Lawrence, a Carmelite monk, found meaning in the mundane. He did so by consciously, continuously welcoming the presence of God into each moment, which he referred to as “practicing the presence of God.”

Brother Lawrence at work in the monastery kitchen.

A lay brother, Brother Lawrence spent his life doing a lot of dishes and sandal repairing for the more educated monks of the group. 

Despite living a commonplace life, he had a reputation for being profoundly, unjustifiably peaceful. Many came to visit him in the kitchen to try to catch his secret.

The answer he would give? Practice the presence of God. 

Transcendence and Immanence: God Above and Among

The idea of a “gritty glory” depends on two things: glory (something beyond us, more brilliant than the ordinary) and grittiness (something present with us, hidden among the ordinary).

How do these two fit together?

As I’ve struggled to wrap my mind around both sides of God at once, two terms have helped immensely in framing my thinking: immanence and transcendence.

Our Sacramental World

Did the universe come from nothing, or was it made from some stuff that was already around?

Maybe you’ve pondered that question. But if you haven’t, you’re probably wondering, does that question even matter? 

Yes. A lot, it turns out. It matters because your view of Creation also gives you your view of the world. And of life. And of yourself in relation to those things.

Our answer to the nature of Creation also involves these questions: what’s the point of the stuff of the world (which is what we spend most of our time with) that doesn’t seem “spiritual” or otherwise meaningful? In other words, this Creation question helps or hinders us in our quest for meaning in the mundane.

The good news is that many philosophers and theologians have wrestled through these questions already, so we stand on the shoulders of these giants as we try to think through these questions for ourselves. 

The Title and the Main Point

Writer’s Note: This post is best read after the previous post. 

In the course of this post, I am going to explain the title and the main point of this blog. Ready, set, go:

When I came back from Israel, here was the typical reaction: “Whoa! I bet that was absolutely amazing to see the land of the Bible!”

No. Yes. That depends. Nothing terribly amazing or out of the ordinary happened, if that’s what you mean. No holy jolts. No dramatic revelations or conversions or anything like that.

It was pretty much ordinary life–but that’s just it. That’s what was so earth-shattering to me. The ordinariness of the Promised Land, the very small, barely felt, commonplace ways that God intersected with our world to work miraculous, mind-blowing change. To display His glory.

When Reality and Bible Land Clash

I’ve recently realized that many of my early understandings of Bible reading and “times with God” were shaped by a childhood of constant book reading. Many of these I carried unknowingly until a semester in Israel last semester brought them to the surface, forcing me to face them.

A moment from my semester in Israel: overlooking the Temple Mount (Western Wall and Dome of the Rock).

I grew up in a home with books stashed in every room—kitchen cupboards and the back of the toilet seat included. Through these ink-and-page portals, I traveled many places around the world and throughout history. One was “Bible land” as I had always imagined it.

Being dragged out of a good book always felt like being woken up from a mid-day nap: the sudden jolt back to reality left me feeling crabby and disoriented. Closing my Bible or leaving a church service always used to feel the same way.

Last spring, I went there—Israel, the real-life version of the golden Bible story land that I had so often traveled to in my mind.

Discovering 10,000 Gifts with Ann Voskamp

A great source of inspiration for me as I’ve pursued this idea of God’s glory in the mundane has been Ann Voskamp, who advocates thankfulness as the key to unlocking abundant life in any circumstance. The best-selling author of 10,000 Gifts, she also maintains a blog entitled “A Holy Experience” (http://www.aholyexperience.com/).

Ann Voskamp’s blog.

Consistent with 10,000 Gifts, “A Holy Experience” is centered on the theme of attentive thankfulness in the midst of daily life in order to live more fully and come alive in God. The main section of the blog is a “Journal” tab. Here Ann Voskamp captures some of the daily gifts around her through photography and creative writing, musing about their deeper significance. 

Beginnings: Of Dripping Wax and Dirty Snow

I had always wanted to attend a candlelit Christmas Eve service, to bring that magical Christmas glow into a sanctuary, holding in my hand a quivering echo of Light becoming Life as I basked in the transforming glory of it all.

It just seemed so romantically reverential.

And it was. When, my junior year of high school, I persuaded my family to come with me to a candlelit Christmas Eve service (family Christmas Eve gatherings can be pretty tiring), I was lost in the beauty of it all—the story of God piercing darkness resonated from a bass voice, soared with the reverberations of cello strings into a room thick with pine scent and glimmering lights.

I was so enraptured that I didn’t even notice the hot candle wax oozing onto my fingers.