higher

Do you ever want to just blow this joint?

After Jesus came back from the dead, he taught his guys for a few weeks, and then he flew. He had just finished giving them their commission, and then according to Luke, “After he said this, he was taken up before their very eyes, and a cloud hid him from their sight. They were looking intently up into the sky as he was going, when suddenly two men dressed in white stood beside them. ‘Men of Galilee,’ they said, ‘why do you stand here looking into the sky?’”

I’ll tell you why. They wanted to get out, too. If not out of disgust for this place, then for the love of Christ!

Everything gets so screwed up. Sometimes it’s impossible to even imagine heaven on earth, even though that’s exactly what God promised. I know there’s a lot of bad “escape” theology in Christianity. Maybe there’s just too many Left Behind books floating around. I know in my heart that God is not wanting to get me out of of the world, but instead to get Himself in the world. I know God is wanting his kingdom to come here—to the earth—and it’s through me. I know all that. But some days are just evil. I do want to escape.

When dreaming I'm guided through another world
Time and time again
At sunrise I fight to stay asleep
'Cause I don't want to leave the comfort of this place
'Cause there's a hunger, a longing to escape
From the life I live when I'm awake

So let's go there
Let's make our escape
Come on, let's go there
Let's ask can we stay?

Can you take me higher?
To the place where blind men see
Can you take me higher?
To the place with golden streets (Higher by Creed)

I saw Champions on Ice today. As we began walking back to the office where we parked, Grace remarked how beautiful the skating was. I didn’t say anything the whole way, even though I was thinking that I couldn’t agree more with that. I wanted to get higher before I talked.

We walked through the gardens of the Centex building and past the wedding banquet that was being prepared on the veranda of Marie Gabrielle, and went up to where I work. Then we walked over to the south side of the building and looked down at where we had just come from. When you’re in the garden it’s lush and green, and the water is nice, but until you get up high you can’t tell that there is a design to it all.

Grace said, “Wow!”

I asked, “Did you know that’s what it looked like when we were walking through it?”

“No. Not at all.”

“Yeah.”

I stared out the window for a while and then said, “Yes, Grace, it was beautiful, the skating. So beautiful that it made me sad.”

“Sad? Why?”

“Well, I’m just thinking about how hard it is to make something beautiful, all the dedication, the discipline, the sacrifices they and their friends and their family have made, the injuries, the diets, the exercise programs. It takes so much effort to make something that beautiful. And it only lasts for a while ... And I am thinking about all the ugliness, too. I’ve seen enough ice skating movies to know that there’s a dark side. But it’s not just movie drama—I saw it unfolding on the nightly news with Tonya Harding and Nancy Kerrigan a few Olympics ago. There’s all this ambition and competition and envy beneath something so beautiful. Who’s the keeper of the gold, the silver, the bronze? And how are they announced? ... And then the rest of the story. We have no idea what’s really going on in their lives—one of them could be going through an ugly divorce, one of their mothers may have just died, or one of their three year old daughters might have just been molested. It’s like the beauty is there, but it glides on so much ugliness, pain, and work. So much effort.”

“Yeah.”

“And then I think about how some things are truly beautiful to the core but look ugly. Like Jesus dying on the cross. Or like a story that you’re halfway into and you don’t like the way it’s going.”

I saw Pirates of the Carribean 2 yesterday. I didn’t like it. For a lot of reasons, but I won’t go into that. But now I’m just left here with a story that was disjointed, is halfway through, I don’t like the way it’s going. Yesterday was a hard day. Today was a hard day. It’s been a hard week. It’s been a hard year.

I looked back out the window and said, “So we drive everywhere and come up with a million things to do, get new cars, build new bridges and roads, and do everything to keep from thinking too much about beauty and ugly and what kind of story we’re in.”

Can you take me higher? Is there really a place where beautiful is just beautiful?

And what is to become of these stories that are halfway through and I don’t like the way they’re going? And the story-teller seems to have fallen asleep…a year ago…and I don’t even know if I want him to wake up and finish the story. Maybe it’d be better for him to just scrap this one and start all over.

Redemption is the word I’m looking for. For Elizabeth Swann and Will Turner and Jack Sparrow and Tonya and Nancy and me and all the characters in the story I’m in, for all the martryrs and skaters and even beauty herself. I keep hoping, I keep believing that somehow Jesus didn’t just fly away. He somehow went higher. And if he went higher then there is a higher place, a place where we blind men can see. A place where streets aren't just gold plated.