I had a rather uplifting discussion about God and the notion of His kingdom last night. I think we arrived at a few points of clarity and some vivid pictures of some things that lay ahead for us when time is no more. Those moments come briskly but it seems so often that as quickly as they come they tend to rush away just as fast.
I think God for the brief moments of incredible gracious clarity. They send hearts ablaze with a kind of grace on fire. A motivation to live gratitude out. A humble confidence. But why is it that they move through like race cars heading down the track? I suppose this is all part of the nature of faith. If you have a handle on it, or can corner it. If you can dissect it you know that object too well. Its become a type of science to you. And you do not trust things you know that well, you expect things from stuff you know that well. That kind of expectation is not objective faith.
This is the nature of the journey. One day the clouds will complete roll away and what we see in part will be complete clear. But until then we have to wait faithfully for it. I find the most frustrating struggle is the dynamic movement. Like my old car making it up hills. It was though the engine was trying to strangle itself. The rugged transition between clarity and frustration. Between solace and silence. Between cohesiveness and unity and lonesomeness. There should be a pause of the music or something to note what is coming.
I suppose this is why my bent is for the need of corporate unity. The noetic affects of sin is by nature we forget what matters. And we also forget that we will forget. If the individual has the propensity to forget he or she can depend on those in the body who at a given gracious moment of God that remember the hope of His calling, what a rich inheritance we are to Him. People in the corporate body who beat the drum of light reminding others that there is an already that is also not yet to come. There is a “soon….but yet…not yet” to wait for.
Thank God for those people. Those Barnabas’ type reminding us what we have in store. But who picks up the drum for them when they grow weary? When they forget too?