Single-handed Theology: Master of Kitchen Studies

Newborns and toddlers (especially in combination!) really do hinder the study of theology in the traditional academic fashion. What mother of preschool children has time to read scholastic works, let alone make cohesive comments on the internet about them? Sometimes I get a little depressed thinking about it. I started a great commentary on Revelation back in the spring. . . the bookmark is still there in chapter two. My eschatological ponderings have wandered off into an apocalyptic explosion of diapers and dishes. Most of the books I've been reading are short on words, big on pictures. (Wait, maybe I'm on to something . . . an illustrated theology series perhaps??)

All of that to say, I must remind myself that theology, the study of God, is not limited to academia. God is the same God in the kitchen and the classroom. And if what is said in the classroom cannot apply to the kitchen, then maybe it's not worth saying? Don't get my wrong. I love theology. But I love God more. And I'm learning to pray like never before, because it is more important to be connected with Him than to thoughts about Him. I'm learning to look for him, especially in the unlikely places. (I'd love to hear Luther or Barth or NT Wright discuss theology after a day at home with the kids, wouldn't you?) This is a different kind of degree I'm pursuing, and that's ok.

And when the fourth consecutive reading of The Little Engine That Could is complete, and the children are both (miraculously!) asleep, then maybe I'll dig out that commentary again . . . Who am I kidding? I'm having a nap!

~lg

Single-Handed Theology - Where Are the Children?

Single-Handed Theology: one hand in motherhood, one hand in theology, each inspiring the other.

Tonight, while nursing Arden before bed, all the while humming old hymns and drinking hot lemon tea, I was considering the relationship between Christ and the church. In a sacred mystery I am not sure I understand, the apostle Paul identifies Christ as the husband and the church as the wife. That got me thinking – where are the children?

We’ve got all sorts of relationships pictured in the Bible, relationships that exist among God and between God and humanity. There’s God the Father, and His Son, with the Spirit as the bond of love between them. There’s Christ the bridegroom, winning a bride for Himself, the Church. The Spirit may also be seen as the chemistry, or divine electricity that draws and binds each to the other. (Of course the Spirit is also a person, not simply a force, with whom we have a relationship with as well, though He is always handing us off to Christ.)

Surely the greatest romance of all time would find fulfillment in the natural outcome of marriage, that is, offspring. We are God’s children, but the Church as she is now has borne no children.

But of course. The marriage has yet to happen. The Great Wedding is an eschatological event, and we are still the betrothed, not yet a wife, not yet a mother.

When I thought of this, a little tingle of excitement ran through me. Sometimes when we think about the end of this world, or life after death, or eternity in heaven, we struggle to imagine what on earth we’ll be doing. (And yes, there will be a new earth too, as well as a new heaven.) Getting to the Marriage Supper of the Lamb seems like a pretty ultimate arrival in and of itself. But just think, we will be marrying Jesus, the One in whom and through whom all things were created! With such a creative husband, I wouldn’t be surprised if our union brings about some kind of new life. I’m not thinking of more human children, or a race of demi-gods, but something alive nonetheless, something that will recreate the church anew as baby recreates a woman from the inside out.

Perhaps we will experience a glorious motherhood, perhaps there will be things that need our nourishment and our love, love which has been made perfect through the fires of tribulation and resurrection. Perhaps we will be the co-creators we were meant to be. Perhaps the Spirit will birth new life in us as a surprise wedding gift. Who knows?

There is a reason a veil hangs over our faces as we look past the future into eternity. But you know what they say. First comes love, then comes marriage, then comes . . .


~lg

Single-handed Theology - Parenting

Typing with one hand is a little tricky. Arden sits on my lap and watches me tap this strange little contraption. I was just thinking about God’s mandate to the first humans – He tells them to become parents. There’s a big world that needs to be filled. God could have done it Himself. He could have created a whole human population. But He gives the fun of procreating and the charge of parenting to these two inexperienced creatures. Create more life! He says. See this beautiful world? Fill it up!

Perhaps in parenting we are able to mirror God’s image in a new way. We create something that is of us, yet wholly other. We learn to love someone who will bring us great joy and great pain.

This whole parenting enterprise is part of the plan. In one sense, it is what we were created to do. Create more life. Then love it.

I keep coming back to this question for some reason. Why life at all?

It must be because participating in God’s image is something worthy. It must be because love is better than non-existence.

~lg

Single-handed Theology - I've got a craving . . .

Single-handed theology: theology inspired by motherhood and often carried out with one hand on the baby.

“Like newborn babies, crave pure spiritual milk, so that by it you may grow up in your salvation, now that you have tasted that the Lord is good." 1 Peter 2:2-3

Ever had a craving? Maybe for chocolate, or Frosty Treat ice cream, or a Big Mac, or that morning cup of coffee . . . mmm, I’m getting hungry just thinking about it.

I have a new appreciation for the word now that I’ve seen a newborn in action. When a newborn is hungry, you’ll know. If not by the frantic rooting and finger sucking, then by the inconsolable screams that are soon to come if you don’t get the milk in her mouth fast enough. A newborn’s craving for milk is not something that can be ignored. It’s all consuming.

So when I read this verse now, I wonder if I have the same sort of craving for soul food. Do I start to get a little crazy when I miss out on spiritual nourishment? Does my mouth water when I think of the Lord’s goodness, and does it make me search desperately for more? Of course, the craving is based in the first taste. Yes, you may have been hungry before that first experience of Jesus, but once you tasted, the pure goodness should keep you coming back for more. Have you tasted, truly drank in His goodness? And if you have, do you have that all consuming desire for more?

Too often I’m guilty of pacifier Christianity. I get a little hungry, a little dissatisfied, but instead of reaching out for the good stuff, I get distracted by something easier, the quick fix. How easily I am soothed by sticky sweet pop-culture, by the endless menu of entertainment paraded before me, and my salty self-rationalization. But it’s only temporary. There’s no long term satisfaction. So why do I keep stuffing myself with empty calories, or even a Christian-flavoured soother, when what I really need is a good long feeding from the source?

It’s time to grow up. Time to get a little frantic and drink deep.


~lg