Spiritual Vertigo
Rooted in his infinite otherness, God is big enough
to weave the cosmos into creation and breathe humanity into dust
He formed the earth’s foundations,
set its footings with his own holy hands,
and laid its very cornerstone while
the morning stars sang together
and the angels shouted for joy.
This God is so great that even the rocks cry
out in praise and the mountains leap.
The hills themselves burst with song
and the trees rise in standing ovation.
This is who God is.
But our understanding of God and
the world is tinted, tilted,
inverted, perverted by
our own damage and desires.
We are finite creatures,
which means we are limited
to our own understanding and lack
of imagination.
As a result, our view of God is small,
minute, minuscule, myopic, microscopic,
antiseptic, uninspired, rigid, constrained,
biased, parochial.
Never has that been more apparent than
when we glimpse the character of God
in the gospels and watch in bewilderment
as the perfect, divine orchestrator of the universe
shrugs on flesh and dons a diaper.
We are dizzied by this paradox,
disoriented by this dominion…
where The Lord of All Creation leaves
Heaven’s throne for a filthy feeding box
where The Creator of the Cosmos puts down
his kingly scepter and picks up a carpenter’s tool
where The God of the Galaxies strips off
his royal robe and garbs himself in a peasant’s tunic.
But that’s what he did.
In response, we lined his path
with palm branches when we thought
he promised prosperity
but then we jeered and spit
when he demanded repentance.
We lifted our hands toward him
when he poured out his healing
but then turned our faces away
from his wounds and suffering.
And yet.
Despite our fickleness and because
of his faithfulness, he offers forgiveness.
He allowed himself to be tattled on,
tortured, and traded for an insurrectionist.
He removed his jeweled crown
to pick up a splintered cross.
Then hung naked before the crowd, shamefully
placed between common criminals.
And though the earth shook
as he cried out that it was finished,
he was enshrouded and entombed
behind a stone. But while his disciples
wept and slept, he didn’t.
He looked hell straight in the face for us
and then defeated it to make a way for us.
He rose.
And when he did, his kingdom
came with him.
It’s rising even now;
an already dawning
in the not yet.
It’s the song swelling
in our ears, the welcome
warming in our hearts.
He is calling us to him,
and we have heard his voice.
Will we accept his invitation?
Will we say YES to who he is,
what he wills and how he reigns?
In this kingdom, things are not
as we’ve known or sown
or sought or thought.
His kingdom is not
from this world…
but it is for it.
We know that to be true
because God became
Mercy Incarnate.
And in coming to reconcile and redeem,
he also came to reorient and reorder.
He came to shift all we thought we knew
about him and all we thought we knew
about seeking him, obeying him, loving him
(and each other).
This upside-down Kingdom
has its own extraordinary orbit—
seemingly filled with oxymorons
and opposites and bursting
with mystery and paradox.
Here,
the king is the servant
of the people
and sovereignty rules
with generosity.
Mercy and justice
are not rivals but allies,
justly joined
In the upside-down Kingdom,
he flips our tables
and topples our empires.
He inverts our assumptions
and upends our expectations.
He reverses our priorities
and upsets our majorities.
Here,
our nemesis is made
our neighbor,
our prayers poured out for
our persecutors,
and our love offered to
our arch enemies.
In the upside-down Kingdom.
the first is last,
the child is wise,
the meek is mighty.
Here,
the happiest are the humblest,
the hungry are the most satisfied,
the narrowest road leads to the largest life,
and those who sow in tears reap in joy.
In the upside-down Kingdom,
honor is given to the small,
power is perfected in weakness,
the poor in spirit are bequeathed
the stars above, and their unclean
lips purposed to herald his holy name.
Here,
the earth is not the whole wide world
but merely a footstool for the divine,
and truth is not the antithesis of grace,
it is wedded with it.
Will the mighty bless the meek and those who mourn?
Can a criminal receive the promised rest?
Would a feast be served to celebrate the scorned?
And shall the sinful outcast sit as honored guest?
YES.
In the upside-down kingdom,
obedience is the fruit of love,
dependence is the mark of free,
death to self leads to abundant life,
and surrender ushers victory.
In the upside-down kingdom,
Perfection washes wicked feet
and shares his bread with the betrayer,
pardon is promised to the thief,
clemency lent to the jailer.
He IS the one righteous king
but he sings an upside-down song.
And he, being gracious, let us sing along.
But we, being broken, keep getting it wrong.
We’re all trying to sing our own anthem.
But the one who seeks, finds.
The one who asks, receives.
The table has been set,
the feast has been prepared,
and we are welcome
to taste and see
that the Lord is good.
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