A Permanent Resident

Beloved, we are God’s children now; what we will be has not yet been revealed. What we do know is this: when he is revealed, we will be like him, for we will see him as he is. And all who have this hope in him purify themselves, just as he is pure. 1 John 3:2-3

I had a wonderful morning today. Maggie and I, along with several from Salem and other community groups, took part in a stream clean-up. Maggs, ever the fashion-plate, donned her brand new pink rain boots, her mom's sun hat, and a pair of gloves that were the smallest size they had, yet were still comically big. She served as the "pointer": looking for pieces of trash along the stream bed, which we would then scramble down the rocks at our own peril to get. I wouldn't have had it any other way, of course.

We discovered a number of treasures, mostly alcohol and tobacco-related, although I do recall seeing several tires, a few rims, a lawn chair, a vintage 1970's blue shag rug that gave me fond memories of my grandparents' home, and a rusted-out piece of metal that I can only assume was once part of a muffler. Gotta be careful not to bottom out driving through creeks, you know.

I find it interesting that Earth Day nearly always falls squarely within the Easter season, and yet for whatever reason, I haven't read much of anything pointing out the rather obvious connection. See, one of the most misunderstood pieces of Christian tradition--one that even many Christians don't know about--is that resurrection is for everybody. The hope we hang on to is not a disembodied hope--that one day we'll all be ghosts, playing harps on clouds in some alternate dimension--but a deeply embodied one. We will once again smell what coffee smells like, see sunlight through spring leaves, taste fresh-baked bread, hold the warm hands of our real-live loved ones, some of whom have already gone from our sight. We'll have bodies. Jesus is risen, and we shall arise. Because he lives, we shall live.

Which, of course, means that we'll live on a real-live planet. Revelation says God will make "a new heaven and a new earth." Guess where we'll live? Yep. On a planet. with rivers and streams and trees and rocks and lakes and plants and fungus and animals and microbes and mosquitoes--wait, maybe not mosquitoes. I'll have to check back on that. But you get the idea.

It's often the creed of environmentalists to say, "let's keep this earth healthy for our grandkids to live in." I fully agree. Right on. BUT, see, if you don't have grandkids, or you don't see them often, maybe that's not an effective motivator. How about this: "Attention Christians: God is eventually going to bring us back here. So...I wonder what kind of creek you'd like to happen upon on your morning jog in a hundred thousand years or so?"

Some food for thought this Easter season. And it didn't even come in a pre-wrapped package.







A couple other Easter quotes I've been meditating on:

"Death is the last weapon of the tyrant, and the point of resurrection, despite much misunderstanding, is that death has been defeated. Resurrection is not the redescription of death; it is its overthrow and, with that, the overthrow of those whose power depends on it.
N.T. Wright, from Surprised by Hope

John Updike's "Seven Stanzas at Easter"

Wendell Berry's, "Manifesto:
The Mad Farmer Liberation Front"