Do Not Fall for Idols

Sermon manuscript (preliminary) for Green Lake Church of Seventh-day Adventists

For Sabbath, September 3, 2016.

Texts: Deuteronomy 4:20-29, Acts 17:22-29

A few years ago I received a phone call. “John, can you lend me a thousand dollars. I need to fly to Dubai to meet someone who wants to donate to my ministry.”

Freddy needed the money. He had been a minister and lost his job. Since then he had been eking out a very meager existence. He had set up a non-profit and raised a few dollars to support his work, but he was hungry and needed money.

Now, in answer to his prayer, he had gotten connected with someone through the internet who wanted to donate to his ministry. This mystery donor was a very wealthy man whose headquarters was in Dubai. He was prepared to make a contribute of upwards of $20,000, but he wanted Freddy to meet him in Dubai to talk over the details.

So, Freddy begged, was there any way I could spot him the thousand dollars for a plane ticket?

I still laugh at myself for how long it took me to say, No. I liked Freddy so much and I so wanted good things for him that I entertained played with the idea for a while. Fortunately, my wife was more clear-minded. As soon as she heard about it, she indignantly said, “Thou shalt not bow down to any idol!” Well, she didn't say exactly those words. But it meant the same thing.

Wealthy Middle Eastern donors do not seek out poor preachers in Florida as avenues for their charity.

Freddy was participating in his own deception. He wanted it to be true, so even though it was patently bogus to anyone with a grain of sense, he was prepared to believe—and to be scammed.

It is not just poor people who are seduced by the idol of fabulous wealth. A friend who was quite comfortable financially lost everything he had chasing the promise of an income in the billions of dollars. From some distance away, the illegitimacy of the investment scheme was crystal clear. But up close, staring the promise of Bill Gates-sized wealth in the face—my friend could not resist. He bowed and in bowing lost everything.

Against this kind of allure, we need the sturdy, uncompromising, emphatic word of the command: Do not worship idols.

The value of this command is not that it brings some new information. The problem with idols is not that they are so tricky. The problem with idols is our hunger to be deceived. The command simply distills what we already know. And what our brothers and sisters know. And our friends know. And our parents know. In regard to money, Do not worship idols is an ancient way of expressing our modern proverb, If it's too good to be true, it's too good to be true. Sometimes even after doing due diligence fraud happens. People lose money. And all investing carries some measure of risk.

But when easy money is dangled in front of us, beware. Do not bow. Don't fall for an idol.

There are all kinds of other metaphorical idols, seductive promises of well-being and happiness. In working on this sermon, I made lists of idols. I imagined clever ways to illuminate our tendencies toward idolatry. Then I turned to the story of Jesus and his test against the allure of idolatry. And I deleted my list. Because we cannot cure idolatry in the long run by labeling idols.

In the Gospel, Jesus ministry begins with a three-part test. Three great temptations, three invitations to idolatry. In the first the devil invites Jesus to turn stones into bread. “Use your magic. I dare you!”

Jesus refuses.

In the second test, the devil invites Jesus to leap from a some high place on the temple down into the courtyard, counting on angels to cushion his fall, and thus proving his specialness. Jesus refused. Of course.

Then there came the straight-forward idolatry test. The devil showed Jesus all the kingdoms of the world and promised, “Bow to me and I will give you all of this.”

Jesus answered, “It is written, Worship God and God only.”

Note, Jesus did not quote the negative version of the commandment: Do not fall for idols. He quoted a positive version: Worship God and God only.

Sometimes we need the cold, hard slap of the negative commandment to wake us up, to shake us free from the seductive allure of an idol at a moment of crisis. But the command doesn't tell us which way to go. It does not provide much guidance. Don't go there . . . okay. Which direction shall I do? The command, Do not fall for idols, doesn't say.

But the version of the command Jesus quoted does give direction.

Worship God. Give your attention to God. Admire God. Adore God. Contemplate God. Meditate on God. Let the bright glory of God's goodness and generosity, God's benevolence and affection, hold your vision and shape your soul.

Through contemplation of the divine glory holiness will become natural to us. Truth and courtesy will be our normal way of speaking. Generosity and kindness will be our instinctive way of being. Forgiveness will be habitual. The more we give our attention to the glory of God, the more our own characters will be radiant with divine goodness.

And this is our ambition. We want to be a holy people, a people like God.

Worship—private, personal contemplation and our gathering here at church—turns our eyes toward God and that habitual vision shapes our souls.

Last Sunday, about 6 p.m. at the end of a long run, I stepped out of the woods onto the shoulder of Highway 410 only to find my way blocked by a six or seven bicycles sprawled on the ground between the trailhead and my car. Among the bicycles sat a woman and a guy. The woman's legs were dirt splattered. The guy's shirt was wet with sweat and grime.

We fell into easy conversation. They had gone up the Palisades Trail and then down the Ranger Creek Trail, about fifteen miles with 3500 feet of elevation gain.

Which is crazy. I've hiked the Palisades Trail dozens of times. It is no place to ride a bicycle. It has rocky places where the trail drops two or three feet over the boulders. It is criss-crossed with roots. At one point the trail climbs a hundred feet up stairway built on top a massive log. What are these people thinking, peddling bicycles up a trail like that? Even the bikers themselves agree this is a pretty crazy trail. Here is the description of the trail from the Evergreen Mountain Bike Alliance web site:

“Palisades is fairly technical singletrack with exposure. The upper section features breathtaking views off a sheer cliff face, and the middle section is somewhat similar to Tiger Mountain's Preston trail - fast, flowing descent with lots of roots. The lower section is an extreme switchback-laden, rock-garden-riddled, and steep wooden staircase hike-a-bike (some describe it as a bit of a buzz-kill). Well drained throughout, buff and smooth up top, rugged and rooty in the middle, and rocky and loose on the bottom.”

“Ranger Creek is a great trail to ride. Fairly technical singletrack with exposure, beautiful forests, good climbing, fun descents, technical sections and crazy switchbacks that will challenge the most advanced riders.” Evergreen Mountain Bike Alliance web site.

Why would anyone drive from Seattle all the way to out here to ride a bicycle on a crazy trial like this?A couple of reasons come to mind. These people hang out with other people who dream of riding their bicycles in crazy places. They hear stories about crazy rides. They watch YouTube videos about sick bicycle rides. They tell their own stories of crashes and triumphs. They show off their scars. And they cherish the exhilaration of that bombing down a trail and making a two foot drop without crashing.

The bikers I was talking to had done the Palisades Ranger Creek loop and it wasn't enough. So they had loaded their bikes in the truck and driven up Corral Pass Road to the trail head there. Then they rode the Dalles Ridge Trail to the top of Ranger Creek for another fast, scary ride down.

These two were guarding the bikes while others in the group were driving back up to Corral Pass to retrieve their truck.

When I expressed amazement that these people would ride these trails, I was merely pretending. I'm not really amazed. It is what I expect. If you know people in the mountain biking community you know these kinds of exploits are common. This is what they live for.

They “worship” mountain biking mastery. That is they give it attention, frequent, admiring attention. Failure, crashes, bonking—that is collapsing from complete exhaustion—are accepted as simply necessary costs for pursuing their grand ambition.

This is how it is for us.

Our ambition is holiness. We want to peddle the bicycles of our lives the way God peddles his bicycle. We aim to love our enemies the way God loves his enemies.

We aspire to forgive as God forgives.

We want to be as generous as God, as creative as God.

We tells stories of integrity and honesty, of altruism and compassion, of brilliant creativity and faithful service.

Of course, in any endeavor this bold, this exalted, there will be crashes and failures. When that happens we pick each other up and help each other to get back on our bicycles and start peddling again.

We worship. We give admiring, adoring, envious attention to the glory and goodness of God. We aim our lives at divine love. We build our resistance to the allure of idols by devoting ourselves to worship.

Earning Heaven

Sermon manuscript for Green Lake Church of Seventh-day Adventists
For Sabbath, April 16, 2016

Texts: Isaiah 11, 65, and Matthew 19:23-29

Last Sunday, after Karin left for work at 6:30 a.m. I went outside to feed the dogs and cats and other critters. The sky was the color and weight of lead. The temperature was in the high thirties. It was a perfectly miserable day. (I know. I know. For some of you a gray, cloudy, cool day is perfect. I envy you. For me, dark, gray, cool days are an almost unbearable weight.)  At eight o'clock, the sky was still heavy and dark. So did the logical thing: I decided to head for Christoff Peak or Norse Peak.

I took my time loading my pack. Down coat, insulated pants, stove, hot chocolate mix. Snow shoes. Crampons.  You never know what kind of conditions you'll find up high. And since I freeze easily, I always have to carry a ton of extra gear just in case I get lost or break a leg. Finally, I called the dog. We climbed into the car and headed out on Highway 410 toward Crystal Mountain. A mile before Green Water, the clouds thinned. I had come to the edge of the gloom. Blue sky and sunshine gleamed ahead of me. I turned off the highway, parked, and headed up the trail to Christoff Peak.

In sharp contrast with the damp, gray sky back home, here sun filtered through the trees. In places where the sun had warmed the ground and trees, the air was fragrant with the scent of fir and soil and forest duff. As I climbed the air warmed. I pulled off layers, unbuttoned my shirt. Eventually, I came to the snow. I stepped into my snowshoes and kept ascending. Snow crunched under my feet. Sun warmed my shoulders.

After a mile or so on the snow, I reached the summit. It was heaven. The sun had melted the snow off the rocks at the very top. I sat on sun-warmed rocks, heated water for hot chocolate, then sat back and basked in the sun, sipping my hot chocolate and eating a Cliff Bar. (Yes, I admit it. I ate a Cliff Bar. And I wasn't even starving to death.) Across the valley Mt. Rainier loomed in the glimmering air.

Some of you will remember John Denver's song, “Almost Heaven.” Sitting on top of Christoff Peak last Sunday, basking in the sun, gazing at Mt. Rainier, sipping my hot chocolate, nibbling my Cliff Bar, tossing pieces of jerky to Rexy. Yes, it was almost heaven.

What did I have to do to earn this bit of heaven?

If you mean what did I have to do to earn the right to visit this peak, the answer is simple: I was born into ownership. The peak sits on National Forest land. Since I'm an American citizen, that land belonged to me the minute I was born. I have done nothing to earn it. I don't need to do anything to earn it. It's already mine. Others arranged the ownership for me.

If you mean, what was required of me so that last Sunday I could sit there above the clouds, basking in sunshine and glorious mountain vistas—if that's what you mean—the answer is not so simple. Sunday, I drove 20 miles hoping to escape the clouds and gloom of the lowlands. I hiked a few miles and a few thousand few of elevation. I carried snowshoes and crampons on my pack.

And realistically, the work required to sit on the top of Christoff Peak began years before last Sunday. Last Sunday's hike was the culmination of years of hiking and running, developing physical capacity. Just as important last Sunday was navigation ability. Once I hit the snow, the trail was completely hidden. For the first time ever I navigated using the GPS and maps on my phone, a skill my son taught me when he was home at Christmas time.

You could say I earned the exquisite pleasure of last Sunday's feast on top of Christoff Peak through a life time of outdoor activity. That hour of enjoyment cost me a life time of practice.

And I will tell you, it was worth every bit of effort.

Which takes us to our scripture.

A man approached and said to Jesus, “Good Master, what good thing should I do to so that I may have eternal life?”
Jesus said, “Why do you call me good? There is no one good except God. But to answer your question, if you wish to enter into life, keep the commandments.”
“What commandment?”
“You know,” Jesus said. “Do not murder. Do not commit adultery. Do not steal. Do no give false testimony. Honor your father and mother. Love your neighbor as yourself.”
The young man said, “All these things have I observed from childhood on. What do I still lack?”
“Well,” Jesus said, “If you want to be perfect, go, sell your possessions, and give to the poor. Then you will have treasure in heaven. And come and follow me.”
When the young man heard Jesus' words, he left, sorrowful, because he had great possessions.
Jesus said to his disciples, “Truly, I say to you, a rich man can barely make it into the kingdom of heaven. Further, I tell you, it is easier for a camel to crawl through the eye of a needle than for a rich man to enter into the kingdom of God.”
When his disciples heard this, they were astonished. “Who then can be saved?” They asked.
Jesus looked at them and said, “With men this is impossible; but with God all things are possible.”
Peter spoke up. “Seeing that we have forsaken all and followed you, what are we going to get?”
“This I tell you for sure,” Jesus said. “You who have followed me, in the new world, when the Son of man sits on the throne of glory, you also will sit on twelve thrones, judging the twelve tribes of Israel.
And every one who has forsaken houses or brethren or sisters or father or mother or wife or children or lands for my name's sake, will receive a hundred times what they have forsaken and will inherit everlasting life.

When this rich, young, devout man came to Jesus he was already doing the right thing. He was behaving in the way decent, rich young men were supposed to behave. But it wasn't enough. He was dissatisfied. He wanted a deeper, richer satisfaction. He wanted to be involved in something that was so meaningful and satisfying he could do it for all eternity.

So Jesus told him what he could do.

But when the young man considered it, it looked too expensive. The satisfaction Jesus offered was going to cost everything he had. And the young man couldn't bring himself to pay. He couldn't SEE that it was worth it. Unfortunately for him, neither could he shake the vision of glory Jesus mapped out in front of him. Adventure. Radical action. Meaningful work. Excitement. A way of life so rich it would continue to satisfy for all eternity. He wanted what Jesus offered. But it seemed too expensive.

He carried a hunger in the very core of his being and only way to satisfy that hunger was the pay the price. But he couldn't bring himself to do it. So he walked away sad.

One way people have interpreted this story about the rich, young ruler is imagine the guy was a proud, arrogant man. They imagine that his claim to have kept the commandments was pretense and hypocrisy. He was a sinner bound for hell. But I don't think so. I don't think Jesus was giving this young man instruction on how to avoid hell fire. Jesus was telling him how to live.

The commandments he had been following were fine as far as they went, but they were too meager. Don't murder. Don't commit adultery. That's good. But it's meager. Do no wrong is fine as far as it goes, but even rocks do no wrong. Eternal life. Life that is worthy of living forever is life characterized by generosity.

After the young man walked away, Jesus remarked to his disciples, “It's easier for a camel to crawl through the eye of a needle than for a rich man to enter the kingdom of heaven.”

“Whoa,” the disciples said. “If that's how it is for rich people, then how could regular people like possibly be saved?”

I imagine Jesus laughing as he says, “On the human level this is obviously impossible. But with God anything is possible.”

I hear a double meaning in this statement. When it comes to salvation—that is escaping hell—leave it to God. God is our savior. And God is really good at it. Don't try to figure out how you earn a place in heaven. You already have one. Just as when you were born you already owned Christoff Peak, so you already own a room in the heavenly mansions. You own it because God delights in giving good gifts to his children. With God, salvation is possible. In fact, it is probable, predictable.

On the other hand, salvation also means joining God in his way of life. A room in the heavenly mansions is just a start. It won't do you much good until you learn to enjoy it. Just like owning Christoff Peak doesn't do you much good unless you put in the time and effort to get there on a beautiful sunny and and sip hot chocolate and nibble on a cookie.

The way we prepare to enjoy our heavenly condo is by practicing here the principles that will characterize the society of heaven.

One of the vivid pictures of the glorious future God imagines for his people is found in Isaiah 11.

The wolf also shall dwell with the lamb, and the leopard shall lie down with the kid; and the calf and the young lion and the fatling together; and a little child shall lead them. And the cow and the bear shall feed; their young ones shall lie down together: and the lion shall eat straw like the ox. And the sucking child shall play on the hole of the asp, and the weaned child shall put his hand on the cockatrice' den. They shall not hurt nor destroy in all my holy mountain: for the earth shall be full of the knowledge of the LORD, as the waters cover the sea.

God's vision is a kingdom of peace. A kingdom of cooperation and generosity. We can begin practicing now for life in that kingdom.

This week on Facebook, several of my friends shared a passage from Ellen White, the Adventist prophet. She was writing about the Balaam who beat his donkey. After several paragraphs of commentary about the dignity of animals and the profound immorality of mistreating animals, she concluded with this:

There were beasts in Eden, and there will be beasts in the earth made new. Unless the men who have indulged in cruelty toward God's creatures here, overcome that disposition and become like Jesus, kind and merciful, they will never share in the inheritance of the righteous. They would, if there, exercise the same spirit that had not been overcome here. All disposition to cause pain to our fellow-men or to the brute creation is Satanic. --Ellen White. In Signs of the Times, November 25, 1880.

That's pretty strong language. If you are cruel to animals here, you're going to have to learn a better way or you can't be allowed in heaven because in heaven no one is allowed to abuse animals. Which kind of makes sense. You don't people walking down the streets of heaven kicking sleeping dogs. You don't guys with BB guns running through the woods eliminating all the song birds. That would kind of ruin heaven.

What is heaven like?

The Bible gives us different pictures. The prophet Isaiah paints pictures of agrarian bliss. Everyone living in their own home on their own land, resting at lunch time under their own fig tree. Or bears and cows and lambs and wolves and leopards and children all happily coexisting.

The wolf also shall dwell with the lamb, and the leopard shall lie down with the kid; and the calf and the young lion and the fatling together; and a little child shall lead them.
And the cow and the bear shall feed; their young ones shall lie down together: and the lion shall eat straw like the ox. And the sucking child shall play on the hole of the asp, and the weaned child shall put his hand on the cockatrice' den. They shall not hurt nor destroy in all my holy mountain: for the earth shall be full of the knowledge of the LORD, as the waters cover the sea. Isaiah 11:6-9

The prophet John in the Book of Revelation pictures heaven as an intense urban experience, even more urban than Dubai.

And he carried me away in the spirit to a great and high mountain, and shewed me that great city, the holy Jerusalem, descending out of heaven from God,
Having the glory of God: and her light [was] like unto a stone most precious, even like a jasper stone, clear as crystal;
And had a wall great and high, [and] had twelve gates, and at the gates twelve angels, and names written thereon, which are [the names] of the twelve tribes of the children of Israel: On the east three gates; on the north three gates; on the south three gates; and on the west three gates. And the wall of the city had twelve foundations, and in them the names of the twelve apostles of the Lamb.
And he that talked with me had a golden reed to measure the city, and the gates thereof, and the wall thereof. And the city lieth foursquare, and the length is as large as the breadth: and he measured the city with the reed, twelve thousand furlongs. The length and the breadth and the height of it are equal. And he measured the wall thereof, an hundred [and] forty [and] four cubits, [according to] the measure of a man, that is, of the angel. And the building of the wall of it was [of] jasper: and the city [was] pure gold, like unto clear glass. . . . And the twelve gates [were] twelve pearls; every several gate was of one pearl: and the street of the city [was] pure gold, as it were transparent glass.
And I saw no temple therein: for the Lord God Almighty and the Lamb are the temple of it. And the city had no need of the sun, neither of the moon, to shine in it: for the glory of God did lighten it, and the Lamb [is] the light thereof.
And the nations of them which are saved shall walk in the light of it: and the kings of the earth do bring their glory and honour into it. And the gates of it shall not be shut at all by day: for there shall be no night there.

What unites all these pictures is the certainty that in this new world, righteousness will be the norm. Generosity, kindness, honesty, faithfulness, kindness, mercy, and justice will become completely routine and normal. They will become unremarkable because they will be as common as air, as regular as sunrise and sunset.

The prophets paint these visions of the glorious kingdom of God, then call us to begin practicing for life in that kingdom. The visions of heaven are intended to entice toward God. The prophets hope that they can paint such vivid pictures of the glory of righteous generosity that unlike the rich young ruler, we will happily jump at the chance to give it everything we've got.

Which brings me back to last Sunday. What prompted me to get in my car and head for the mountains even though the sky was dark and heavy? Visions. To be more specific, web cams.

After feeding the animals last Sunday morning, I went back inside and checked the Crystal Mountain webcams. The first one I checked was the lowest one. It appeared gloomy. But several others looked like they were showing sunshine. I checked more closely. The temperature at the base was 32 degrees. The temperature at the top was 40 degrees. And the sky was clear. Wow. Less than an hour from my house there was bright sunshine. And the temperature inversion—warmer at the top than at the bottom—was a weather pattern I recognized. I could climb out of the clouds. I could hike into the sunshine.

I double-checked the Paradise web cams. Sure enough, the web cam pointed at the mountain showed glorious sunshine. The web cam pointed toward the west showed a blanket of cloud hiding the lowlands.

It was the glorious vision of those web cams that enticed me out of my warm house.

Instead of getting lost in theological arguments about earning heaven, let the bright vision of the peaceable kingdom of God, the place where generosity and goodness are entirely normal—let this bright vision entice you into pouring everything you've got into the mission of Jesus.

When we do this, we will be satisfied. We have already entered the kind of life that is eternal. The joy that awaits us will be worth every imaginable cost.

The Fate of Swords

Sermon manuscript for Green Lake Church of Seventh-day Adventists for Sabbath, March 12, 2016.

If you are driving home from Portland, the scenery is pretty unremarkable. Green trees. A few road cuts. Lots of clear cuts. You go through Olympia, then head down the hill into the Nisqually Valley and there to your right for a minute is a nice view of Mt. Rainier. Then it's back to trees. Then the commercial sprawl north of Lewis-McCord. You pass the turn off for Highway 16, pass the exit for downtown Tacoma, then as you come into Fife, there in front of you is one of the most spectacular views of Mt. Rainier.

Everything is cleared out of the way. No trees block your view. No buildings. No close-in hills. The horizon is filled with the low undulating line of the South Cascades, then rising above them, almost floating in the sky is the immense, gleaming bulk of Mt. Rainier.

I'm surprised there are not more wrecks in that stretch of freeway. People staring at the mountain, taking pictures.

You get a view almost as good when you head south on I-5 just past the West Seattle bridge. And then there's view from the Bainbridge Ferry. Wow!

Mt. Rainier is the great focal point of our city, our region. Our eyes naturally seek it out. At least on clear days!

I think of Mt. Rainier when I read the words of our scripture reading.

Now it shall come to pass in the latter days that the mountain of the LORD's house shall be established on the top of the mountains, And shall be exalted above the hills; And all nations shall flow to it.
Many people shall come and say, "Come, and let us go up to the mountain of the LORD, To the house of the God of Jacob; He will teach us His ways, And we shall walk in His paths." For out of Zion shall go forth the law, And the word of the LORD from Jerusalem.
He shall judge between the nations, And rebuke many people; They shall beat their swords into plowshares, And their spears into pruning hooks; Nation shall not lift up sword against nation, Neither shall they learn war anymore.
O house of Jacob, come and let us walk In the light of the LORD.In the last days, the mountain of the LORD's house will be the highest of all--the most important place on earth. It will be raised above the other hills, and people from all over the world will stream there to worship.

I love the word “flow” in this passage. The nations will flow to the mountain of the Lord's house. Which creates an interesting visual contradiction. The mountain is raised and the nations flow to it. Ordinarily, I think of things flowing down to a low point. But in this passage things flow upward.

Water flows down hill. Avalanches flow down slopes. Landslides flow down. What flows up?

Dreams. Dreams flow uphill. We dream of higher, better, purer, richer, brighter. We dream toward the light. We dream toward the top of the mountain. Our vision reaches up.

And God is the greatest dreamer of all.

Through the prophets in the Bible, God gives voice over and over to his dreams that Jerusalem—the city of God, the capital of the people of God, the site of the glorious temple—would give voice and substance to God's dreams of a holy city. Through the words of the prophets, God dreamed of a society that lived out the highest ideals of truth and compassion, loyalty and honesty, generosity and integrity. God dreamed of Jerusalem as a showcase of the kingdom of heaven.

The deepest laments and sternest rebukes of the prophets were aimed not at the heathen or pagans or infidels—or whatever other word you could use to describe outsiders. The prophets lamented the failures of the citizens, the native-born residents of Zion.

But the prophets lived in hope. God would ultimately accomplish his dreams. Righteousness would triumph. Evil would disappear.

In the last days, the mountain of the LORD's house will be the highest of all--the most important place on earth. It will be raised above the other hills, and people from all over the world will stream there to worship.
People from many nations will come and say, "Come, let us go up to the mountain of the LORD, to the house of Jacob's God. There he will teach us his ways, and we will walk in his paths." 

This was God's dream for Jerusalem. Jerusalem failed. I don't know very many people who imagine they could go to Jerusalem to learn God's ways. Jerusalem is a city sitting on the razor edge of hatred and violence every day. Religious and political tensions threaten to explode in every situation.

Still the vision beckons. Still God calls us higher.

What does that look like? If we are going to live out God's dream, it's vital for us to have a clear vision of that dream.

The more clearly we see God's ideals, the more intensely we focus our attention on those ideals, the more they will shape our lives. That's one of the principal values of participating in worship. In our worship services we give intense, joyous attention to the beauty of goodness. We celebrate the goodness of God. In our music, our readings, our sermons, our fellowship, we affirm our belief that light is greater than darkness, that the fundamental reality of the universe is benevolent intention. God means to do us good. And we aim to do one another good.

What happens when people finally internalize the wisdom of God?

For the LORD's teaching will go out from Zion; his word will go out from Jerusalem.
The LORD will mediate between nations and will settle international disputes.
They will hammer their swords into plowshares and their spears into pruning hooks. Nation will no longer fight against nation, nor train for war anymore.

God's final, triumphant vision is not vengeance. It is not annihilation. It is not conflagration. God's final vision is the transformation of warriors into farmers, of killers into healers, of bombers into builders, of thugs into therapists.

Can you see that vision? Will you spend time contemplating that vision, nourishing that vision? If you do, you are sure to find it reorienting your life.

A mile or two from my house is a new house. It's set in the middle of twenty or thirty acres that used to be pasture. The house is impressive because of its size and style. Then there is its orientation. The house faces southeast. Which is a little weird. Southeast does not align with any feature of the immediate landscape.

In our neighborhood, the ground is quite flat. The streets run east and west. The avenues run north and south. Houses are lined up neatly along these roads. Houses on the south side of avenues face north. Houses on the west side of face east. So why is this house sitting at this weird angle?

On a clear day, the answer is obvious. The houses are oriented so the biggest windows frame Mt. Rainier. People situate their houses so they can admire the mountain without stepping outside. That's the power of the glorious vision of the mountain.

That's the kind of power Isaiah's prophecy can have in our lives, if we give it sustained attention.

Will you deliberately restrict your consumption of hate and disdain-inspiring media? Will you turn from that kind of soul-withering media and give regular, daily attention to the vision of God, the vision of the triumph of peace and justice, with special attention to peace and justice for those who have less than you?

I don't know about you, but on a sunny, clear day when the air is clear and Mt. Rainier is gleaming, I find it beckoning. I dream of hiking its lower slopes. I find myself tempted to aim for the summit. That's the power of a clear vision.

The more clearly we see the mountain of the Lord's house, the glorious wisdom and goodness of God, the more powerfully it will attract us. The more effectively it will shape our own souls, molding us into partners with God.

Holiness Is Like Running

(Column for the Green Lake Church December, 2014, Gazette)

Holiness is like running. No matter how far you go or how fast you run, you dream of running farther, faster. No matter how generous, loyal, merciful, honest, compassionate or hardworking you are, you will dream of more.

Holiness is like running: It is not defined by what you don't do, but what you do. You don't run by avoiding chairs. You don't do holiness by avoiding sin. Running is not “flight from” but “striving toward.”

Holiness is like running: The stories of the superstars are wonderful inspiration. They are destructive if we read them as standards. Let them spur you to your best efforts. Don't allow anyone to use them to disparage you.

Holiness is like running: some people are naturally better at it than others. Genetics gives us our joints, muscles and tendons. Not all bodies are equal. Genetics and personal history shape us. Not all persons are equally capable of holy action.

Holiness is like running: one of the first commandments for marathon runners is run your own race. Run the right pace for you. Holiness does not come in one size fits all. Pursue the goodness God puts in front of you.

Holiness is like running: you learn it best by practice and by spending time with other people who are actually doing it.

Holiness is like running: it offers a unique pleasure available only at significant cost. The cost of holiness is not some toll imposed by God, it is the struggle to transcend moral and relational inertia.

* * *

I was originally enticed into running by my roommate, Bill Shelly, in the second half of my first year of college. He had become my closest friend. I admired him. So when he began urging me to run with him, I eventually yielded and allowed him to drag me out onto the track. At that point I could not run even one a mile without walking. He kept pulling me forward, keeping me company and staying one step ahead of me.

He pulled me through pain of that initial training on the track, then into the hills behind the school. We ran through college and through seminary. We ran in the hills of southern France. It was glorious. Then after seminary, out in the real world, the pressures of life took over. I quit running. Other things to do. Not enough time.

I worked with health educators. I heard them lecture about the importance of exercise for optimal health and nodded my head. Exercise was one of the eight ways to avoid getting sick and dying. I agreed with the lecturers. I knew I should be getting regular exercise, and for me the best exercise is running. Still, I never quite got around to it. Then a few years ago. I read a book that told stories of runners. The book focused on a couple of amazing races, the Leadville 100 and a race with Tarahumaras of Copper Canyon. The people who ran in these races were crazy . . . and having fun chasing impossible dreams. I was enticed back into running.

This is the only way to holiness—enticement. When we catch a glimpse of the happiness of doing good, sometimes it sets our hearts on fire. We remember other times when we practiced holiness and tasted joy, and we decide to pursue it again. We hear a friend mention some adventure in their own pursuit of holiness, and we catch the note of joy in the telling and become aware of the hunger in our own souls for that joy.

I don't think we can scold people into holiness. We cannot berate people into holiness. We cannot push or scare people into holiness. Fear of the end of time or the close of probation or the frown of God will not goad people into holiness. Sermons about the miserable conditions of Laodicea will lift people from their lethargy. But sometimes a clear vision of the joy of holiness will awaken us to once again put on our holy shoes and chase after higher, sweeter goodness. No matter how far or how fast we go, we will still dream of going farther and faster. Still, while dreaming of greater triumphs, we will revel in the joy of the present journey.

The Christmas story is an evocation of the joy of holiness. The angels are happy. The shepherds are happy. The Wise Men are happy enough for a thousand mile camel ride. There are ineluctable costs associated with all this joy. Still, the happiness is so rich, no one thinks of avoiding the cost.

This Christmas season, as you enjoy the music and lights, the food and gifts, I invite you to consider tasting again or more deeply the happiness of the pursuit of holiness.

A True Picture of God

Sermon Manuscript for Green Lake Church of Seventh-day Adventists

For June 21, 2014

Texts

Exodus 34:4-8

John 1:14-18

1 John 4:8

Twenty years ago I gave a series of lectures at the Adventist Church in Boulder, Colorado. I stayed at the home of a geologist who worked for U.S.G.S. (U. S. Geological Survey) and I was eager to talk rocks with him. How did he connect what he saw in the rocks with what he heard in church?

We must have talked rocks, but I don't remember much of what he said. Instead my sharpest memories are of Gary's care for his son.

I got in late Friday night and didn't see the son until Sabbath morning. Gary served his son breakfast, then wheeled him out to the car in his wheel chair. He helped his son into the front seat and secured him with a special harness. Gary's tenderness with his son had all the marks I associate with maternal care. Competent, gentle, attentive. And—dare I say it—sweet.

We put me and the wheel chair in the back seat and drove off to church. There I was caught up in my official duties and meeting people. I didn't see Gary with his son again until that evening when we were back at the house.

I don't remember the diagnosis. Maybe there wasn't some a tidy neurological or medical label for his constellation of physical and psychological difficulties. I do know that the tenderness and care I observed had been going on for thirty years and would continue for decades more.

Given Gary's credentials and career as a geologist it would be easy to think the significant theological questions in his neighborhood concerned radiometric dates and fossil sequences. Watching Gary care for his son it was obvious the most significant theological question was, is God really a father like that?

The Bible does not mention fossils or zircons or radioactive decay. It does speak of God as father, mother, lover, friend. Is God really a father like Gary? In later years, Gary's wife was diagnosis with Alzheimer's. Gary added her care to the care of his son. Is God a lover like Gary?

Is God as good as Gary?

Another story. Another picture of God.

My friend Karolyn has a son who is severely disabled. There is no simple medical label for Orin. He can walk. He can feed himself. And even those abilities are seen as miracles by his mother. They were giant leaps forward in development that followed an anointing service and prayer for healing more than three decades ago. “God,” Karolyn had prayed. “I think I can do this if he can just feed himself.” And it happened.

What jumps out at me when I listen to Karolyn speak about Orin is her affection. As Orin turns 40, his problems are getting worse, not better. He requires continuous, etenal care. Sometimes Karolyn talks about how wearing that is. But far more often she expresses concerns about his comfort. How do you provide adequate care for a person who cannot tell you if he has a toothache or an ear ache? What would happen to him if Karolyn could no longer care for him?

Occasionally she talks about the greatest mystery of all. She wonders what would happen to her if he died. Given his disabilities it is likely she will out live him. And then what? Where will her heart ever find ease and solace? She loves Orin.

She has devoted 40 years to Orin, 40 years of love, 40 years of service to a child who will never grow up, a child who will never provide the kind of bragging rights parents dream of.

Is God like that?

I have watched for almost 20 years. I have admired her, and wondered at the grandeur of her mother's heart. It remains a mystery, way beyond my comprehension, beckoning me to contemplate an astonishing love.

This is a picture of God. This is the truth about God.

Some of us need to take down the pictures of God that were painted by preachers, Bible teachers, parents, friends.

Of course, God dreams of human children who are beautiful, strong, holy, skinny, virtuous, shining, gracious, disciplined, honest, kind, smart, musical, artistic, etc., etc.

Jesus said that we are to be perfect like God.

Paul wrote that we should forgive like God, love like God, be patient like God.

James challenges us to practice divine generosity.

But what if you are not beautiful, strong, holy, skinny, virtuous, shining, gracious, disciplined, honest, kind, smart, musical and artistic?

What if you are bumbling, fickle, dishonest, addicted, criminal? What then? Where do you stand in the eyes of God?

We can see the answer in Gary and Karolyn. The primary locus of value in a child is found in the heart of mom and dad, not in the achievements or character of the child.

This is the grandest, deepest truth. It is the most difficult to grasp. Those of us who do not have a special needs child can know this truth only by paying deep, respectful attention to parents who have lived it. And even then we will always be outsiders, looking in wonder at a mystery that is beyond us.

When the Bible pictures God as a father or mother, it intends us to imagine these family connections in their richest, sweetest ideal. Some of us have experienced great pain because our parents did not exhibit this radical affection. For some of us, the words father or mother connect us with images of rejection, alienation, or even abuse. Our parents may have beat us or neglected us, belittled us or scorned us. The Bible offers us another vision. And we come to church to celebrate this alternative truth:

God takes delight in God's children. God prizes God's children without regard to our successes or failures, our accomplishments or deficiencies.

This is the truth. This is the way God is.

I was visiting with an old friend this week, someone I've known for decades. Kirk's son is not easy. Every story about the son is a story of struggle. Often it's a story of disappointment. But this time I heard a different story. The new pastor of their church had taken the son out for coffee a couple of times. Later the pastor remarked to Kirk, “Your son is cool. He's interesting.” Kirk then said, “No one says that about my son. He is a difficult person. He's bi-polar. Opinionated. Outspoken. Edgy. I can't believe our pastor said, 'He's cool.'”

You are the son, the daughter, God treasures. Other people wonder what on earth God sees in you. Let them wonder. Let them be bewildered. God adores you.

As we come to know this more and more deeply, we will then be able to do for one another what that pastor did for my friend, Kirk. We can brighten God's heart by saying good things about his children, especially the difficult ones.

You are precious. We are precious. God is love.  

The Sweetness of Doing Right

Four Treasures of Adventism

A lecture series for Green Lake Church of Seventh-day Adventists

Lecture Three: The Sweetness of Doing Right

Sabbath morning sermon, April 6, 2013

Text: Matthew 7:24-27

For forty-two years my life has been better because of Bill Shelly. When we first met, I weighed thirty pounds more than I do now. I carried a deep sense of inadequacy. I was a freshman at Southern Adventist University. Awkward. Nerdy. Uncool. Bill was also a freshman. But he was smooth, charismatic, cool. Women flocked around him. I was completely out of his league socially. But for some reason he decided I was going to be his friend. He actively drew me into his world. Hanging out with Bill meant I got to meet all sorts of cool people, big names on campus. I was flattered beyond words. Bill had a magic power to make ordinary people sparkle.

Our friendship deepened through college and seminary. His confidence in me prompted me to attempt things I would have never tried on my own. His friendship made me a larger, richer, better person. He changed my life.

Bill was a wonderful model of the transforming power of Jesus. He did not search for people worthy of his love. Bill loved people into a greatness they did not know they possessed.

If you've tracked with me so far, the term “unconditional love” might come to mind. But with Bill that got a little tricky. Bill was loyal and forgiving, yes. But if by unconditional love you imagine someone who makes no demands, well didn't quite fit the picture. Bill always had ideas about how you could improve your life.

A few months into our friendship Bill invited me to the track to go running. I laughed and said, “No way.” I hated running. Running bases in baseball or going out for a pass, that was fun, but to run hundreds of yards merely for the sake of running? That was masochism.

But Bill cajoled, teased, insisted until I joined him on the track. We did a very slow jog together. Four laps. A mile. Then I collapsed on the bleachers while he ran another mile. I remember sitting there thinking, that's incredible. I have a friend who can run two whole miles. That's almost superhuman.

Most afternoons, Bill dragged me out to the track for my one mile and his two miles. Then he decided we should try running the hills behind the university. This was sheer lunacy. Run uphill????? A long ways up hill????

I protested. Bill insisted. We started running hills. And somewhere, some afternoon on a downslope run on White Oak Mountain I experienced the secret. I was floating down the hill in sheer euphoria. I had become a runner. Over the next few years Bill I ran together on the dunes of Lake Michigan and in the hills of east Tennessee. We ran through the golden foothills of the Sierras and the mountains of southern France. Bill died twenty-five years ago. His death created a wound that is never entirely healed. But his gift of running has been a continual source of healing and happiness. When I am struggling with depression, the unfailing cure is get out of the house and run.

I mean no disrespect, but if I had to choose between the two gifts Bill gave me—affirmation and affection or the kick in the pants that got me started running—I don't know which I would rank most highly.

I used to imagine that my friendship with Bill was unique. But I've told this story in other places and several times, afterward, someone has come up to me and told their own Bill story. They were Bill's best friend. Bill used to take them running. He would run ten miles at dawn then jog a slow mile with them later in the morning. Bill added sparkle to their lives with his laughing and generous affection. Bill enriched their lives by turning them into runners.

The ministry of Jesus was a lot like Bill's. Jesus overflowed with rich affection, compassion, generosity. He couldn't let people leave a campmeeting hungry because he was afraid they might faint on the way home. He fed them. He couldn't allow a woman accurately accused of adultery to experience the customary punishment. People filled with demons screamed insults at Jesus. He paid no attention to their words. Instead he read the hidden hunger of their hearts and set them free. He publicized the astonishing richness hidden in a poor woman's two penny offering.

Like Bill, Jesus overflowed with affection and the power to see a beauty in people they did not see in themselves. This part of the Jesus story is appropriately celebrated by Christians. It is highlighted in the official mission statement of the Green Lake Church.

Our mission statement speaks of “providing ‘safe territory’ for all people.” It mentions “openness,” which “creates a healing environment where people worship, study, play, and celebrate each person’s individuality and unique expression of Divine grace.” These words capture Bill's laughing affection. If we do this well, we will be a blessing in the world. We will be carry forward a vital element of the ministry of Jesus.

However, there is a glaring omission in our mission statement. We say nothing about our obligation to one another to encourage change and growth. Jesus and Bill loved people just the way they were. They were extravagant in their affirmation and affection. But, they could not help themselves, they also pushed people to get off their couches. Jesus and Bill loved people too much not to prod them to live closer to their potential.

This is also our mission as a church.

Jesus began his “Sermon on the Mount” with the rich assurance, “Blessed are the poor in spirit, theirs is the kingdom of heaven.” Blessed are the spiritually destitute, the people who are religiously, morally, psychologically, ethically bankrupt. God's plans, God's dreams still include them. God cannot complete his manuscript of the symphony of the ages without writing their part in it.

The first beatitude is the most radical, daring statement of the graciousness of God in all of Scripture. Then without the least apology or hesitation, Jesus goes on to summon his audience to join him in a wildly audacious holiness.

Jesus assumes the validity and force of the ten commandments. That's getting chubby Johnny out of the dorm to stagger four times around the quarter mile track before collapsing on the bleachers. But when Jesus looks you, he sees the ten commandments is way below your potential. He wants you to run White Oak Mountain.

“You have heard,” Jesus said, “'Don't murder.' That's way too meager. I call you to live above anger.”

“You have heard, 'Don't commit adultery.' Stay out of the wrong bed. Is that your idea of intimacy? Come on, you can do better than that!”

“You have been told, 'Don't renege on contracts you've signed.' I challenge you to be so honest, so transparent and straightforward, that a contract is superfluous except as an aid to memory.”

Most of the ten commandments are stated as limits on our dysfunctional impulses. Jesus calls us to a vastly more exalted ethic: “Don't just resist the urge to kill, harm and steal. Love your enemies. The enemies you sleep with. The enemies you go to church with. The enemies you compete with at work. The enemies you go to school with. Love them. Seek to do them good. Pray for them.”

An essential part of the mission of the church is to prod us in the pursuit of holiness, to encourage us to run the mountains of compassion, generosity, peacemaking, world-mending. As a congregation, we welcome everyone. But we offer more than solace, consolation, acceptance. We begin there, yes. We want to extend a rich welcome to all. Then, having welcomed one another, having offered a warm embrace, we then attempt to fire dreams of holiness, visions of growth and change, ambitions to heal the world. We offer one another an occasional kick in the seat of the pants. We offer frequent affirmations of the value of pursing exalted ideals.

Especially for our younger members.

If you have been blessed by education, a strong mind, creative abilities, physical strength or attractiveness, musical abilities, the privilege of music lessons—we join Jesus in calling you to use those gifts to charm the world. To ease suffering, to increase happiness, to enlarge opportunities for people who have lived for generations in places that withered dreams.

It is not enough to graduate and join the work force, buy a house, drive a nice car or ride a three thousand dollar bicycle. That's way too small.

If you have experienced professional or academic success, we want to congratulate you. You have worked hard. That is commendable. Having blessed your success, we go on to ask, in what ways has your elevation brought beauty and healing to the world? Are you running the mountains and sand dunes of holiness or are you still on the couch watching TV?

Let's be clear, Jesus' summons to run the mountains of holiness is an invitation to joy, even to ecstasy and euphoria. Often when we first encounter the call to holiness it has all the attractiveness of Bill's initial invitation to go running on the track. It appears to be a summons to masochism, to drudgery and perpetual discomfort. If we allow Jesus to pull us off our couches and into the sustained, energetic pursuit of holiness we will eventually find ourselves caught up in the runner's high.

The summons to holy living is an invitation to joy. Doing right does not impoverish life. It enriches it.

Almolonga is famous. Not that I had ever heard of the place until last week, when it was featured in a report on NPR. But as my daughter occasionally points out, the fact that I am unaware of something likely says more about me than the particular cultural phenomenon under discussion. Almolonga is famous, at least among economists and anthropologists. It's been the subject of Ph. D. dissertations and scholarly articles.

According to the story on KUOW, Almolonga used to be your average, poor village in the Guatemala highlands. Now, it is famous for its middle class prosperity. Forty years ago, the town had four jails and they were usually full. Now the city has no jail at all. What happened?

One answer is, they changed their religion. Historically, the religion of Almolonga, like the rest of Guatemala, was Roman Catholicism tinctured strongly by folk religion rooted in the Mayan past. This traditional religion was completely integrated into the life of the community. The civic and religious calendars were the same. The annual cycle of festivities involved the entire community. The religion had centuries-deep roots. It offered an institutional way for people to pursue some measure of comfort and reassurance. It provided no effective challenge to any of the dysfunction that was endemic in the culture. A critic might argue that the religion had been reduced almost entirely to Marx's description: an opiate.

The new religion is radically different. It is Latin American charismatic Christianity. This religion makes radical demands. In the old religion, alcohol was an indispensable element of recurrent festivals. Alcoholism was rampant with all its usual accompaniments—domestic violence, dysfunctional commerce, poverty. The new religion fiercely opposed the use of alcohol. The new religion regulated dancing and entertainment. It demanded that people attend church every week, both on Sundays and during the week. Church members were expected to contribute money regularly and generously. These expectations were not just preached from the pulpit, they were reinforced by deliberately-cultivated social pressure.

Even to a casual observer, the contrast between the old religion and the new religion was stark. Quite apart from any specifically theological differences, the old religion appeared to be richest in its offer of consolation and reassurance. Through its liturgical year, it offered a sense of divine participation in the cycles of life. Against the backdrop of a hardscrabble life, it offered the promise of heaven. The new religion, by contrast, exhibited a restless, impatient drive for change, growth and improvement. In addition to ordinary religious content, the sermons of the charismatic preachers instructed the people to dream big, to work hard, to save their money, to spend strategically. God wanted his people to prosper. And an indispensable element of prosperity was hard work.

By the 1990s, most of the village population had joined one of these new churches. Alcoholism disappeared. Family incomes began rising. Farmers began exporting their produce to El Salvador and Mexico. The town became something of a distribution hub for produce. Some families began importing avocados and then distributing them regionally. Economists studying the town repeatedly invoked Max Weber's words about the “Protestant work ethic.” The jails closed.

Many of the Protestants see the present-day prosperity as a miracle, God's confirming blessing on their move from the realm of spiritual darkness into the truth. In the NPR piece, the local Catholic priest objected to this “miracle” interpretation. The prosperity, he said, was the result of hard work and fertile soil.

(A transcript of the radio program can be found here: http://www.prx.org/pieces/92206/transcripts/208030)

Of course, the priest was right about hard work. Good religion works miracles by fostering hard work. The “miraculous” impact of the Charismatic churches on the life of Almolonga has come as a natural consequence of deliberately creating a church community that prods people toward wise, energetic action. These churches do more than console people in hard times. These churches exhort their members to work to make things different.

When people live in a community that celebrates disciplined living, they are more likely to live disciplined lives. And discipline—ordering one's life according to wisdom and goals—is indispensable for living an optimal life.

God wants his children to live well.

The book of Deuteronomy is a series of sermons Moses preached at the end of his life. Near the beginning of the first sermon, Moses says:

"And now, Israel, listen carefully to these decrees and regulations that I am about to teach you. Obey them so that you may live, so you may enter and occupy the land that the LORD, the God of your ancestors, is giving you. Deuteronomy 4:1

If you obey all the decrees and commands I am giving you today, all will be well with you and your children. I am giving you these instructions so you will enjoy a long life in the land the LORD your God is giving you for all time." Deuteronomy 4:40

God gave Israel laws, rules, commandments—use whatever term works best for you—to foster their well-being. God wanted them to succeed. Near the end of the last sermon, Moses says,

If you listen to these commands of the LORD your God that I am giving you today, and if you carefully obey them, the LORD will make you the head and not the tail, and you will always be on top and never at the bottom. Deuteronomy 28:13.

Interestingly, researchers looking at the religious life of Almolonga noted that this is perhaps the Bible text most frequently referenced by the Charismatic Christians. They live in communities where there is a high expectation. This passage expresses profound wisdom. It is a bedrock foundation of healthy religion. God wishes you well. A central purpose of church—the household of God, as Paul calls it—is to foster human well-being. And absolutely crucial for well-being is good habits, self-control, intentional living. Life according to wise rules.

Good religion, authentic Christianity, makes an observable, measurable difference in people's lives. One way it does this is by urging people to adopt good behaviors, smart behaviors. Not to avoid damnation, but because holy living promotes happy lives.

Almolonga is a good example of the kind of effect we should expect from the religion of Jesus. If our religion is not enriching lives, we ought to reexamine it. Something's wrong.

Historically the Adventist Church has emphasized the importance of right behavior. Unfortunately, this emphasis got linked with our fear of damnation. But even with that dysfunctional connection, the emphasis on right behavior has paid rich dividends for many of us. Adventists who follow church rules live longer, healthier lives. Families that keep Sabbath together experienced a sweeter, richer home life. Kids who pick up our antipathy to drugged living are less likely to practice binge drinking in college. Kids who grow up in the church pick up our expectation that they will pursue higher education.

Young people who develop a routine of daily devotional practice are more likely to do well academically. Families that practice tithing set themselves up for the rational management of their money and thus are more likely to avoid the tyranny of debt. Good behavior pays off. Here and now. In this world. It is the key to the sweetest life. So, as a church, we welcome everyone. We honor differences and individuality. And we goad each other, from wherever we are in our lives, to take the next step in the pursuit of holiness. Laughing at our failures and our inconsistencies, being gentle with one another no matter how effective or ineffective our efforts at goodness.

We pursue holiness together because we want the best for one another. Sometimes it pays off in ways we can see and touch.

A few summers ago, I ran the Pacific Crest Trail from Norse Peak to Chinook Pass under a blue sky and puffy clouds. The trail follows the ridge line. For several hours I loped along surrounded by grandeur, euphoric with the rich physicality of the running itself. Mt. Rainier glowed in the sun off to my right. The unspoiled expanse of the William O Douglas Wilderness spread out to the east. It was like flying. It was a gift from Bill. A gift that flowed from his friendship—yes. Just as importantly it was a gift that flowed from his refusal to accept my pudgy, lethargic self as my best self. I luxuriated in hours of running trail through a glorious northwest summer day because of the discipline Bill inspired.

Holiness is not a pursuit of heaven off in the future. Heaven is a gift you cannot earn. Holiness is the best life, the wisest life, ultimately the sweetest life now. It takes effort, of course, like making music, mastering a profession, pursuing a career, making a discovery or going for a run. The effort of holiness, the work of doing good, is never wasted and sometimes leads us directly into bliss here and now. In the long run, the practice of holiness will turn out to be the smartest, best preparation for luxuriating in eternal bliss.