Remembering Who We Are

Here’s a question I’m fond of asking – Do you see yourself as a physical body with a spirit, or a spiritual being with a body? The most common answer, usually after a moment’s hesitation, is – as a spiritual being with a body. But my favorite part is to allow an awkward pause to play out after they respond, before I ask them – So exactly how does that work for you? To which they invariably begin to tell me about their intentions to live a more spiritually oriented life, but how they just can’t seem to consistently follow through on those intentions. So then, how can it be that so many are convinced that they are spiritual beings – but can’t quite seem to hold that focus for very long?

Either all of these people are self-deluded in their belief that they are spiritual beings (no doubt, the non-theists conclusion), or they are experiencing a real problem with forgetting who they fundamentally, are. Interestingly enough, not many books or sermons seem to directly address this conspicuously reoccurring amnesia. I’m suspicious it’s because, apart from religious trappings, most people have no idea what it means to be a spiritual being – so the default settings kick in, and they allow the physical world to define everything in their life . . . including who they are.

In the creation narrative, God creates the world in six days and rests on the seventh. What’s curious about this account is that there is nothing in the theology of either Judaism or Christianity, which views God as requiring rest. Theologically, this rest is better understood as a pattern of sanctification (a setting apart) that God specifically hardwired into his creation design for our benefit. This sanctified design feature is then codified by being included in the Ten Commandments, arguably underscoring its significance and grave importance for all time. And if that weren’t enough emphasis, it is the commandment uniquely placed between how we are to engage God (1-3) and man (5-10) . . . and is the only commandment to admonish remembering.

The Ten Commandments can be viewed as an obligation to an inscrutable deity, or as a ponderous gift offered by a beneficent Father. If you’re struggling to see them as gifts, then I would suggest that you’re likely allowing yourself to be defined by the physical realm. But if you can recognize the profound treasure they represent, in the way they so succinctly define the true nature of things – namely, that God is God and we aren’t . . . then you are beginning to remember. Without them, each of us becomes beguiled by our own self-interest, presuming ourselves to be the only deity worth recognizing, invariably leading us to be at enmity with the one true God (1-3) and with one another (5-10).

Nine of the commandments remind us that we are not God, but it is in the touchstone of the 4^th commandment where we find ourselves placed in context . . . and we begin to remember where we fit in. Because remembering who we are is inseparable from our need to worship God – to set aside the physical demands on our life, so that we might have our memory restored, properly calibrated and aligned to the deeper truths and purposes at work in our lives . . . while we bask in Abba Father’s love and grace. It is in the discipline of such a remembering, where we can begin to be who we were meant to be . . . and fully appreciate the shorter catechism of the Westminster Confession when it tells us that the chief end of man is to glorify God and enjoy him forever.

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This is from my Chiaroscuro Collection

Don’t Let Me Forget

Don’t tell me – let me guess
That’s me hiding in plain sight
Peeking from behind my everyday
And that’s you moving like light
Pouring over the hills of morning

Don’t tell me – let me guess
That’s me dressed to kill time
Grinding gears in the middle of my week
And that’s you moving like light
Playing in the tree tops laughing at the sky

Don’t tell me – let me guess
That’s me circling between my past
And present looking for an opening
And that’s you moving like light
Silently mirrored on the face of the deep

Please tell me – don’t let me forget
That’s me set free dancing with you
Moving like light in effortless motion
Pressing patiently against the darkness
Until it disolves into daylight