The light side

Psalm 119 says the word of God is a lamp for our pathways.  Since the Bible, as such, wasn’t available when those words were written, the expression can’t have the precise meaning that reading the “Bible” illumines our life-decisions.  However, God’s word, His voice, His message does come in scripture, and that message, when truly attended do, can and does illumine.

Revelation 21 has the Lord Jesus as the lamp of the “city.”  The city may best be thought of as the Bride of Christ, the called out Church, as in Rev. 21:2 and 21:10, not so much as a heavenly place of final abiding, according to how I read Revelation, anyway.  But either way … well, both ways! … Jesus is the light.  He is the Sun and Moon, the “Bright and Morning Star.”  There is no need for candles or artificial light of any kind in the church, and certainly not in heaven, because Jesus does the illuminating.  Looking to Him as Light is at once adoring and worshipful.

Artificial light these days comes in at least three flavors:  halogen, incandescent, and fluorescent.  While the last option is supposedly the most “green,” we are not convinced, feeling rather that the claims of longevity in new-fluorescent bulbs are exaggerated, and being averse to the nature of the light these bulbs produce.  I tend not to prefer any fluorescent light at all, actually.  It seems to hurt my eyes and give me headaches.

Halogen headlamps on cars are common, if not prevalent.  (Our cars are 6.5 and 22.5 years old, respectively; I really have no idea what kind of headlamps today’s cars are using.)  Incandescent light is my second choice, behind the natural light God put in the heavens.

I thank Him for the sun that’s been peeking out lately, and for my son, who just this morning thought s(S)omeone was turning it “on” and “off.”

TessaLesson 062909: Grand places, chock full of treasures

Last Thursday evening, I heard a more-or-less scholarly presentation on the afterlife. I appreciated the background and differentiation among ancient cultures’ concepts of what happens when humans die. I didn’t agree with part of this lecturer’s eschatology–namely, that a renewed version of this world is to be the final resting place for Christians believers–but I appreciated his consistent appeal to scripture as basis for eschatological positions, and I know that equally sincere students can come to different conclusions on these matters.

This morning, for the umpteenth time, I went downstairs to our unfinished basement to restock Tessa’s (our doggie) food vessels, from which we, in turn, stock her food bowl. Almost without variation, she stands at the top of the stairs with head and neck outstretched toward the place where I am. She can hear me messing around in the food bag, or in the bag of treats, etc. And then, without variation, I ascend again, with delightful treasures. I can only imagine what’s going through her doggie brain about what the basement is like, based on her limited perception of where I go and what I come back with … grand, endless piles of kibble? Rawhide bones galore? Happy, sunshiney meadows to sit in while enjoying “cookie” treats? Bunnies to chase?

Her imagination is probably not serving her very well. Still, she waits in hope at the top of the stairs, periodically receiving blessings from that happy, mysterious place at the bottom of the stairs into which she has not passed.

“In my Father’s house are many mansions.” “I go to prepare a place for you.”

I bet our imaginations don’t serve us very well, either.  May we, too, wait in hope, knowing that whatever he has in store for us after we have passed through this life into another, it will be truly grand, ever a blessing, and beyond the reality of any advance treats/blessings we’ve received in this life. Marana tha.