2 Corinthians 4:3-6: The Invisible Gorilla

And even if our gospel is veiled, it is veiled to those who are perishing. The god of this age has blinded the minds of unbelievers, so that they cannot see the light of the gospel that displays the glory of Christ, who is the image of God. For what we preach is not ourselves, but Jesus Christ as Lord, and ourselves as your servants for Jesus’ sake. For God, who said, “Let light shine out of darkness,” made his light shine in our hearts to give us the light of the knowledge of God’s glory displayed in the face of Christ. - 2 Corinthians 4:3-6

The light is there but we cannot see. There is a term for things which are clearly visible, but which cannot be seen: inattention blindness, which is "a failure to notice unexpected but perceptible stimuli in a visual scene while one's attention is focused on something else in the scene." The most famous example of this was a study done at Harvard University where "six people-three in white shirts and three in black shirts-pass basketballs around. While you watch, you must keep a silent count of the number of passes made by the people in white shirts. At some point, a gorilla strolls into the middle of the action, faces the camera and thumps its chest, and then leaves, spending nine seconds on screen. Would you see the gorilla?" In the study, half of observers did not see the gorilla. It was, effectively, an invisible gorilla.

How could "God's glory displayed in the fact of Christ" not register in an environment of darkness? Isn't God so obvious? These verses attribute this blindness to the "god of this age" (the devil) which prevents us from seeing that which is projected in front of us. But what if the "veil" by which our vision is just a masterful piece of misdirection, a series of subtle or not so subtle ploys to direct our focus--our attention--on something else busy but inconsequential so that when God does appear we are busy trying to get him out of the way so we can count balls being passed. 

Lord, obscure the unimportant and bring Jesus into sharper focus so we can operate on the basis of reality, not on the basis of what draws our easily attracted attention.

Psalm 138:8: God's Story In Me

The Lord will fulfill his purpose for me. Your steadfast love, O Lord endures forever. Do not abandon the works of your hands. - Psalm 138:8 (ESV)

We don't get to see Ruth often because we don't live close. She is one of the few people who has known Helen and I since before we were married, and, as such, she has a unique perspective on our life story. After breakfast recently, she had written this verse out for me-a reminder to me.

God's Story, Not Mine

It is a reminder that it is God's purpose, not mine. The win is when God gets full credit for who he is and what he does. It his "his name and word" that are on the line (vs. 2, 4). My reputation is expendable. When I try to re-write the script so that my story is foremost, I will be disappointed.  In the psalm, even the gods (vs. 1) and the kings (vs. 4-5) give up the spotlight to God, whose Q score leaves them lost behind the decimal point.

In the play Rosencrantz and Guildenstern Are Dead, two minor characters from Shakespeare's Hamlet are absurdly elevated to the starring roles. The spotlight is on them and they get the the monologues. Hamlet, Ophelia, Claudius? Mere bit players! Or so they would make seem. Because whatever their individual plot lines, the play is still Hamlet's. His story drives the plot and their story is a merely sub-plot--no matter how elaborate--within his.[1]

God will have the starring role. Period. The question is: will I take the supporting role graciously? (Phil 2:9-13) For me, when people are pushing and clamoring for more spotlight, my tendency is to join them in the brawl. Its sort of a habit--a sort of significance, wall-flower fear. The sort of habit that says if nine people have some profound prayer to offer, I guess I'd better also. If three other people complain about their spouse, I need to come up with some fault so I can join in. If you went to Maui, I went to Paris. If you figured out the bug in the code, it wasn't very difficult anyway, was it? But if I solved it, it was the bug equivalent of the grand unified theory or the P=NP problem.

Why must "I must have my share in the conversation"?[2] I don't. Today is not about me, and it might even be someone else's sub-plot. But it is my part, uniquely set out for me by God.

God's Ability, Not Mine

This verse is also a reminder that God's has the ability to pull it off what he plans for me. His plans are not like a Sunday football game that is played "if conditions permit." The author of the psalm has seen this first hand. When he didn't know what to do, he asked and God answered (vs. 3a). When he wasn't sure if he had the internal willpower to do it, God reinforced (vs. 3b.) When others overlooked or ignored him, God didn't (vs. 6). When his life was threatened and people threw up obstacles, God pulled him through (vs. 7).

Have you ever had a two-body problem suddenly become a three-body problem? This happens when I'm working on a project in the back yard of my house--a simple two-body problem consisting of me and the task at hand. Then Helen interjects an opinion of what should be done or how it should be done and suddenly what was a simple two-body problem has become a three-body problem which, as everyone knows, has no general solution. Or, at least not one that makes everyone happy :-)

Yet fundamentally, all of our problems in the life of Jesus followers are three-body problems because we have invited God into our lives. When we did that, our life became more complicated--more than a matter of solving problems to our own satisfaction. But it also gained the potential to become more satisfying and more influential because no problem really worth solving is a two-body problem.

I've come to realize recently that out of cowardice--there's no nicer word for it--I often try to simplify in the worst possible way by factoring God out of the problem. I'd like to do what I want, or do it my way so I just fail to mention it to God or wait for his opinion. It's not like he can't find out, right? But honestly, its my way of trying to keep control. This habit isn't just with God, either.

Life isn't simple or safe. I can use the chainsaw on a crooked ladder while Helen is gone, and it works most of the time. But the one time I fell and ended up unable to move on my back with bruised ribs, I wondered why I didn't wait for her.

How many times have we ruefully asked ourselves why we didn't work it out with God? As Paul says, "work out your own salvation with fear and trembling, for it is God who works in you, both to will and to work for his good pleasure." (Phil 2:12b-13)

When God fulfills his purposes for me, he guarantees what is needed. Some of the scars are needful, and others are self-inflicted.

How God Feels About Me

Finally, this verse reminds me how God really feels about me. The writer reminds God "your steadfast love, O Lord endures forever." Ouch. It is one thing to know that God is good. It is another to know how he feels about flawed people like us. It is the question Satan was really asking Eve in the garden, "Is God good? Does he really have your best interests at heart?"

The writer appeals to God's own character: his steadfast, loyal and permanent love--love that is not based on our track record of obedience, but on on God's long-standing promise to his people. That kind of God, the writer reminds God, does "not abandon the works of your hands." (vs. 8)

Paul echoes this: "And I am sure of this, that he who began a good work in you will bring it to completion at the day of Jesus Christ." (Phil. 1:6)

That cowardice comes back in me: I'm not sure I can handle God's direct attention! He is a "consuming fire" (Heb. 12:29) and we say we want to be on-fire for God, forgetting how fire burns. We are fragile and he is God. Only my confidence in God's regard for me lets me trust what he is pulling me through.




[1] Hamlet, William Shakespeare, Act V, Scene II, line 411. They both end up in the tally of the dead by the play's end.

[2] Pride and Prejudice, Jane Austen, Volume 2, chapter 8 (ch. 31), Lady Catherine de Bourgh speaking.

John 12:23-28: My Life's Purpose is Not Me

There was a period in each of our childrens' lives where their favorite sentence was one word: "Why?" Many times, in exasperation, our favorite reply was also one word: "Because." Later, when we were a little more clever and a lot more tired, it expanded to two words: "Why not?"

Obviously these were not satisfactory answers are just obfuscation to buy us a few moments respite before "Why?" resumed. Honestly, we labored to answer with as much honesty and thoroughness as we could, but they stretched our imagination and creativity.

Why? Why not? Really fundamental questions. It was Gottfried Leibniz who queried, "Why is there something rather than nothing?" Why? Why not? Or to bring it to a more personal level, "Why me rather than not me?" Would the universe care or even notice if there were one fewer sentient being alive, or would it simply carry on as before? Really, I'd like to know if I make a difference.

Even Christians ask these questions. Theology doesn't remove the issue, just transfers the locus to God. Follow me here: If God does whatever he purposes, and none can prevent his purposes from being accomplished (cf. Isaiah 55:11), then why bother with me? Does God really care what I do (if he can bypass me) and, if so, what next?

These issues can seem theoretical. But knowing the "Why?" helps making choices. Which job? Which friends? Which hobbies? Which thoughts? Which risks?

Jesus spoke about his purpose in several places in the four biographies in the Bible. Sometimes he spoke about what it was: "For the Son of Man came to seek and to save the lost." (Luke 19:10) Other times he spoke about what it was not: "Do not think that I have come to abolish the Law or the Prophets; I have not come to abolish them but to fulfill them." (Matthew 5:17)

Jesus understood his purpose. This allowed Jesus to select among the courses of action available to him. This allowed Jesus to line up his life with God's bigger purpose.

So, over the next few blog articles, I'm going to look at Jesus' purpose, as he described it. Then I'm going to figure out how to imitate him, as best I can.

The first thing I learned is: My Life's Purpose is Not Me. Here is what Jesus said:

“Now my soul is troubled, and what shall I say? ‘Father, save me from this hour’? No, it was for this very reason I came to this hour. Father, glorify your name!” - John 12:27-28

Jesus is arriving at an appointment scheduled in God's plan. He held within his power the ability to steer a course away from pain, betrayal and shame (see Matthew 26:53). The full consequences of both alternatives were before him and he felt them both keenly. His soul was troubled by the decision.

In the end, though, what moved Jesus? What was the target for his life's trajectory? His purpose was to risk his own life to build the reputation (the 'glory') of God. "Father, glorify your name." His life was not about his self; it was about the Father. His life was spent making God look good and furthering God's purpose.

What do we usually do here when it comes to purpose? Be the best you can be. Pursue what you love. Make an impact on the world. Be happy. Survive Monday. These purposes revolve around self. Left in default mode, my purposes reset to my self. My interests. My passions. My fulfillment. My enjoyment. My impact.

But Jesus' purposes revolved around God the Father. He consciously rejects the "save me" and accepts the "your name" That choice had consequences and he knew it. "He said this to show the kind of death he was going to die." (vs. 33). But consequences of any other choice he could make it were worse: "Anyone who loves their life will lose it, while anyone who hates their life in this world will keep it for eternal life." (vs. 25)

The second thing I learned is: My Life's Is Best Risked On God's Goodness. If you look closely, Jesus defined what he meant by "this hour" back in verse 23: Jesus replied, “The hour has come for the Son of Man to be glorified. Jesus often used the phrase "Son of Man" when speaking about himself. Read it again. Wait, you say, "Aren't we talking about building up the Father's glory? But Jesus is saying he [Jesus] will be glorified. What's up?" Good question. When Jesus fulfilled his purpose by setting aside any personal agenda, Jesus showcased God. Then God the Father chose to spotlight Jesus! Paul says it this way: ...he humbled himself by becoming obedient to death—even death on a cross! Therefore God exalted him to the highest place...to the glory of God the Father." (Philippians 2:8-11) Jesus gave it all away, trusting God would give it back. So must I. That's a risk I must be willing to take.

The third (and final) thing I learned is: My Life Is Best Invested With God. "Very truly I tell you, unless a kernel of wheat falls to the ground and dies, it remains only a single seed. But if it dies, it produces many seeds." (vs. 24) The seed that clings to life, yields one plant. The seed that dies, produces many. There is no other life path which offers the scale of guaranteed return as a life risked for him. Reverend George Mackay, missionary in northern Taiwan, famously said, "Rather burn out than rust out."

Time to stop playing it safe. My step today, as on many other days, is to take my life, my family, my bank account, my job, my goals and my reputation and offer them to God. If I am honest, it is gut wrenching. But my life is not about protecting these for me, but spending them for God.