How Deep
I pray that you may have the power to comprehend, with all the saints, what is the breadth and length and height and depth, and to know the love of Christ that surpasses knowledge, so that you may be filled with all the fullness of God. - Ephesians 3:18-19, NRSVI went into the Grand Canyon on Tuesday. If there ever was a perfect day for hiking, it was Tuesday. If there were ever perfect company for hiking, they were the church group with which I hiked.
We were encouraged to consider the parallel between knowing the canyon and knowing God and his love. The majority come to the rim, gasp, take a picture, and go home. Some have gone in shallow, as we did. Some have been all the way down to the bottom several times. I doubt that anyone knows every path and crevice of the 11-mile-wide crack in the earth.
This comparison, which I had heard from Nick Cooper before, finally worked as around every bend I was newly flooded with wonder. We hiked for about six hours, which took us about 1500 feet (25% of the canyon's depth) down and back. We had seen virtually none of the canyon; we never did see the bottom.
I want to go back.
When I saw the crowd of camera-toting tourists at the rim, I felt sorry for them; they hadn't seen the pristine snow-covered rocks on the trail and the sheer cliff face above which we had walked without a railing. And like a snap, raw experience was translated to superiority. The pity which should drive me to lead others into the canyon became a bragging right.
I bet Gnosticism was pretty tempting, especially for the more boring people who didn't have extreme stories to tell; at least they had knowledge unavailable to the poor, ignorant masses. Since I rarely take chances and always fear failure, I cling especially hard to the successes I do have, usually those of knowledge and information. I've never been on a Road to Damascus, but I can tell you the meaning of every little detail and symbol within the story. I don't know how to love, but I can recite I Corinthians 13 without hesitation. Hooray for me!
We know that 'all of us possess knowledge.' Knowledge puffs up, but love builds up. - I Corinthians 8:1
I haven't even seen The Passion of the Christ, but all my imagination about the horrible spectacle comes back to the same phrase: In this is love. Love is ugly, bloody, fearsome, and horrifically necessary. Daisies don't build things up; blocks of concrete do. Fuzzy feelings are only lasting and meaningful with a storehouse of this bullion backing them up.
Love one another.
posted by Lynn @ 5:37 AM
2 Comments:
This was an even better post than I had anticipated. I'm still reflecting, and I'll write my own interpretation soon.
Your paragraph beginning with "I bet Gnosticism . . ." has captured much of my experience with faith. Shame on me.
"Raw experience was translated into superiority." So true. And, interestingly, I think it's been the fact that knowledge or experience with us leads us to boast is precisely what makes me humble before the idea of absolute and omniscient love. How can one know all and love all? How can love not want to show off that it is greatest? Everytime I read 1 Corinthians 13, I just think, "Well, not there yet."
You brought out the "bullion" again. Love it. Here, though, the phrase is a gentle warning. Nicely done.
May I say that I hope you never stop blogging?...at least as long as you are able to express these kinds of thoughts and I am able to read.
Jesus says "come!" Come out of the boat. Come to me when heavy laden. Come and see! I don't think He'd be "big enough" if we ever "got to the bottom" in this life. But, I am encouraged by your words and the experience shared here to keep on hiking.
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