a theology of renewal: when words fail us

 

We banter around old words: democracy. education. nation building.

And new words creep in: stress. uncertainty. not knowing. fear.

When words we trust fall short, the soul knows what it needs. When everything else is changing faster than we can comprehend, there is peace in knowing what does not change, what will last. And not fail.

Even as the old-world order falls to pieces, we find true rest in simple prayer, in connecting with a holy God. In knowing we are known. And loved. The theology of renewal is ours for the having. Faith that is real is not the stuff of legend or the path of superstition, it’s the source of sanity. The bedrock of a realm our souls have long called home.

When words like government, corporations and institutions fail to inspire our faith, trust and hope, we are not without inner resources to weather the storm.

When people in power betray or abuse those they aim to serve, there is a place we can call our own. Our chains are not permanent. There is a future we can bank on. A spiritual treasure chest to draw on, to destine us as liberators; not captives.

The global elite, the plutocracy (whose power and economics are one), run the new-world order without vision or ideals that extend further than their own iron gates—without a rally cry we can adhere to.

A plutocracy exists to serve itself. It has, by definition, no worthy heroes. And… it needs no votes. It just is.

This is disturbing, but important information. Because, from what I understand, new world orders always take a bit of getting used to. People need time to adjust to new realities. But this one doesn’t feel quite right, at bottom. This plutocracy has no end goal.

This can’t be good.

Yet, we know God hears the cry of his people. Those who cry out to him in heaven to  dwell with us in the cave of our retreat, scratching pictographs on damp walls, reworking what it means to stand upright. Somehow, we know this is not the prelude to the Next Enlightenment. And yet, we pray for light.

And so, we grow silent. Personally, this gives me hope.

To pause is to consider that God might want us to be silent with him, for a moment. I have come to trust this silence in solitude. I’m re-reading Thoreau. And relying on my daily bible reading to guide me through. I feel I know what it is to hear God. I find peace.

In this moment of reflection, I sense this is the time to get alone, to be real and generous and kind to our soul’s wish to fly with eagles, not crawl with worms. To live on a higher plane, even as governing creeds we once called our true aim, collapse. Implode. Deflate.

Silence will not kill us. But our dependence on finding the right words just might.

The world will not end with a bang or a whimper.

The world, in fact, will not end. Rather, there will be an end to injustice. There is an end, because there is a greater reality—God and our kinship with him—that will not, does not and cannot end. God is infinite. God is just. God is good. And these things can be rediscovered by a people seeking to be heard by a God who is just now silent, save to those who seek to deeply listen. Who yearn to lean in, to be held; to find the strength to hold others up. To be found as heroes.

And so, the life of prayer on earth grows daily. And we are heard. And joy is rising.

There is an eternal aspect to these pictographs of eagles flying just shy of the sun. There is a newness being felt and embraced in this time of old-world decay, when nothing makes sense anymore. Where desks stand unmanned and children are consigned to cages. All this is ending.

And something new is beginning.

The theology of renewal is deeply personal. God’s truth must be lived one soul at a time. But the theology that will save us from the decay of our old, once-trustworthy systems and political creeds is not only personal, intimate and essential. It’s cosmic. God’s creation is feeling the pain. Renewal is holistic. Universal. Complete. Everywhere there is a greening, a springing up, a flood of grace. An acknowledgement that what is true must also be good. And that what is bad has the seeds of its own demise within it.

Be still and know that I am God, says the Psalmist. I love these words.

These are good words. From everlasting to everlasting, we are his. We are meant to be in union with God. While other ties are being tested to the point of breaking, people are shoring up their energy. Taking time to pray; learning how to have faith in what is unseen rather than what is seen. To trust God rather than to fear Man.

Secure in the love and knowledge of God, we find we can afford to love one another, regardless of statistical standing in the current universe. Our spiritual standing is beginning to count for more than we realized it might be worth.