Every once in a while it is necessary for me to get outside the Reformed bubble. Not to wander in some hedonistic romp on the dark side, of course, but to gather in some of the threads of awe and amazement beyond the limits of. . . well, beyond the limits of me.
Sometimes that’s just a lot of fun
Lately I’ve been volunteering at the Butterfly Exhibit at Meijer’s Garden, an amazing display of creative wonder in Grand Rapids. My task is to prevent the butterflies from escaping, but engaging with the kids and adults at the beauty of the butterflies is simply breathtaking.
One four year old was entering and his mom explained that he had come to believe that fairies rode around on butterflies. He was so excited to even think about such a wonder he was practically dancing in place. I told him that I had never seen a single fairy but I hoped he would let me know if he did. A half hour later he burst out of the exit exclaiming “Eight, I saw eight fairies!” and still dancing with delight.
The moment was so supercalifragilisticexpialidocious and so astonishingly naive that I smiled hugely and grieved a little at the same time. There was laughter behind the smile and some grief about my own lost childlike imagination and wonder.
Where has that gift gone?
Ann and I had an adult version of a butterfly experience recently. The event was a 20th anniversary celebration complete with a renewal of vows. That was ordinary enough except the site was at a casino. That’s pretty foreign territory for most Reformed folk.
The couple were out of the ordinary too. Her heritage is Romanian and her spirit radiated an escape from authoritarianism plus a touch of Roma. His mother is Italian and his father is Native American. She was dazzling glitter from top to bottom and he stood ramrod straight with classic Italian features topped by long pitch black almost pony tailed hair.
The guests were equally diverse. Aside from the spectacular diversity of the immediate family, the guests ranged from ex-pat Romanians who stumbled across one another in exile to casino elders delighting in the reversal of long suffered native injustices and cruelties. Plus two Reformed.
An astonishing array of human diversity, unified only as witnesses to the magnificence of God’s gift of love shared.
In some ways the night was as totally artificial as fairies riding butterflies. Aside from casino fantasy, all our collective warts and bruises were well hidden. We were all dressed to the nines and on our best behavior but I’m sure there were some whose lives were teetering on the brink of chaos. Or whose churches are fighting an uncivil war. Or nurturing hidden wounds related to false litmus tests for piety. Or poor decisions coming home to roost. After all, we do live in a world where delusion is taken for truth and where ignorance is often proudly intentional.
Despite all that, the “Amens!” following the renewal blessing were genuinely loving, Churches might be experiencing warfare and the world threatens all sorts of destruction, but that night we briefly rode together above the storms and were glad. It felt a little like riding on eagles’ wings. Or a touch of butterfly wings?
However, existential metaphors do not a theology make.
Four year old butterfly imaginations and casino surprises are powerful, still brutal honesty would advise taking a deep breath. Yes, it was interesting, maybe even extraordinary, but let’s not make a mountain out of a minor diversion. Yes, it’s not difficult to imagine fairies using butterflies for transportation but it’s not true. Yes, there were strangers gathered in their finest dress who probably told their finest stories with the finest spins imaginable. And yes, it was fleeting and so outside everyday reality as to be a figment of my imagination, just another delusion.
Or is there something intense enough to take us beyond?
Isn’t our Reformed superstructure all about limited human beings catching a glimpse of something so far beyond that it’s breathtaking? Or our surprise at finding splendor unexpected? And then struggling to find the right words to convey our wonder?
Isn’t that what a creative order of worship seeks for our Sunday mornings?
Isn’t the best of our literature, scientific research, human relationships and even our theology demonstrating the limitations of six inches of grey matter struggling to understand the magnitude of love and grace? All our best efforts are flawed but we keep trying.
Sadly sometimes it’s the opposite. Sometimes there are griefs so deep that only a groan escaping from the soul’s core can mark a brutality beyond words. Sometimes fear dominates, reducing wonder to word smithing or church order minutia. Sometimes words so utterly fail that only the crowing of a rooster is powerful enough to push into repentance.
If we can see it. . . it is possible for a four year old’s imagination to pivot through a casino and the quest for abundant life gets a little richer. And seeing might make us a little bolder perhaps or a little more vibrant today than yesterday.
For sure more pastoral.
Maybe that’s how we were intended to imbibe the bread and wine of remembrance. Maybe that’s why my church recently sang “indescribable unchangeable untameable uncontainable incomparable God – awestruck we fall to our knees.” Maybe that explains my choking up every time I sing “Peace Like a River” or hear a mountain stream.
Maybe that’s why a couple of young men decided to write about their only comfort in life and in death. Maybe Louis Armstrong experienced it every time he sang “It’s a Wonderful World.”
I wonder if that’s what Jesus’ ascension was at least partially about. The human/divine Jesus rising to a 50,000 foot perspective for a family reunion while viewing that beautiful blue marble we call home. While boots-on-the-ground humans gape skyward with longing, hoping to see beyond their sight, the Holy Trinity gazed lovingly on one small part of creation and celebrated. It must have been an astounding moment, bursting with wonder and awe.
Maybe like a four year old’s imagination and a casino blessing.
I absolutely love this. Thank you.
Wonder-ful Al, all of it. But the cinematic reflection on the Ascension, wow! I’ll never view it the same way again.
Beautifully and powerfully written! A balance of reality and Hope that doesn’t disappoint.
“After all, we do live in a world where delusion is taken for truth and where ignorance is often proudly intentional.”
“Maybe that’s how we were intended to imbibe the bread and wine of remembrance. Maybe that’s why my church recently sang “indescribable unchangeable untameable uncontainable incomparable God – awestruck we fall to our knees.”
Thank you Al
As a person with an Irish American mother and a German American father, I believe in both the fae and reality. There just are some things that have no logical explanation. You expressed the dichotomy beautifully.
Art in its many forms gives me access to wonder, as does the scope of nature’s gifts from the microscopic to the cosmic. But it’s there in the ordinary and even the suffering too. We need only open our hearts as much and habitually as we can. A phrase from the Pray as You Go app helps me get there: “Become aware of God’s gaze of love upon you.” I am captivated by the notion of fairies riding butterflies! Thank you for your shared ponderings.
Thank you, Al – this is wonderful writing and questing! The kind of nourishing and inspiring blog you want to keep and reread in future days.
Al, this was such a deliightful read. In spite of our losses and disappointments, in Christ we are resurrection people, with the sure hope of new beginnings — today and tomorrow — even for guys with the name Al who are a lot older than you.
Thank you, well said.
oh, goodness, amen to what everyone else has said. and then another amen. thank you!