Come
The Merriam-Webster on-line dictionary suggests that kingdom come is another word for heaven, but we have already visited with that idea; and, I really want to focus just on the one word, even if it is being taken out of context. When we pray about something that is to come, whether our prayer be, like Christ's, about God's kingdom or about a more pedestrian concern--tomorrow's doctor's appointment, the job interview next week, our children's future--we are living in anticipation.
We all choose where we will live. I live in a place where the foothills of the Appalachian Mountains cozy up to the rolling horse farms of the Bluegrass. I live in an eighty-year-old house on a quiet street in a small town with a university in the same county where I grew up. I have chosen where I live based on a number of variables: I like having four distinct seasons, I have a sense of home connected with Kentucky, I like the people here, I like the house my wife found, I like my job (which is nearby), I like living near larger places that offer more cultural and culinary options, I like not actually living in those larger places because I hate traffic and crowds. We choose where we live based on a variety of factors--some within our control, others imposed upon us (which we accept or not, and thereby also control).
Just as we choose where we live geographically, we also choose where we live temporally--where we live in time. We are placed into a time, but how we live in that time is our choice. We can live in the moment, live in the past, live for tomorrow (or next week or next year)--or we can live in anticipation. Living in anticipation does not mean living outside of the present. In fact, living in anticipation requires that we live now. Those who try to live outside the present are bound to fail, as Miniver Cheevy so sadly discovers in the poem by E.A. Robinson ; however, living beyond the present, living in anticipation, means living in the now with a constant awareness of the future and, possibly, an awareness also of the past.
We have to live in the present because that is when we are. This is what we have, and we are supposed to use it; think of the present as something given to you (and this gets toward that sort of hokey pun [is that redundant?] about the present being a gift, but you were hoping to avoid that probably), like the talents in the parable. Ignoring the present is burying the one talent: we cannot, should not do that. We are to be stewards of whatever we have been given. I have heard many people speak of tithing their time, and rightly so. We have to use what we have been given to accomplish our commission.
Living in the present does not mean that we should ignore the past. Our past, personal as well as collective, has an impact on who we are and how we function. We are shaped by our own histories, and we have to be aware of them: as philosophers tell us, the unexamined life is not worth living. We need to know whence we came to better prepare for where we are going. I may not be proud of everything I have done, but those experiences are part of who I am. Things I have done may be forgiven--grace and mercy are amazing manifestations of God's love--but those things that God has forgiven and forgotten still have an impact on who I am and how I exist in any given moment, just as all the other moments have their own impact on my life. So living in the now does not preclude acknowledging the past. Nor does it mean ignoring the future.
Living in anticipation and living in the future are not the same things. Living in the future, in my world view, means always waiting for something that has not happened yet, whether that be finishing school, paying off the mortgage, getting married, whatever. Some people do not live their lives, they live in expectation of what might happen or what they want to happen. People who live in the future cannot enjoy the lives they have because they cannot be truly aware of the lives they have; they are so concerned, so distracted by what might be that they cannot see what is. Some people who happen to be labeled as Christians--and perhaps some who are not labeled that way--exist in the present but live in the future; more specifically, they live in the afterlife before they get there, and that is not what any of us should be doing. To live outside of the now, even if we are living in a place as wondrous as heaven (which is where everyone imagines him or herself after this life) cuts us off from the reality into which we have been placed.
Living in anticipation, on the other hand, is not about waiting. Living in anticipation means living in the now, but with knowledge of what is to come. This returns us to Emily Dickinson: "So instead of getting to Heaven, at last/ --I'm going, all along." If we live in the present, with the knowledge of the future, we are able to experience God--and thereby heaven itself--in our lives. Separating ourselves from the present is, in essence, separating ourselves from God. We are here now, and God is here now; we are not in the future now, although God is. By attempting to avoid the time we inhabit, we disconnect from God; ironically, many of us may believe we are trying to be closer to God.
To live in anticipation means to live with a goal; to live with a goal means to live with a purpose. It becomes a matter of substituting a preposition: we are not living in the future, we are living for the future. This might seem a trivial difference, but it is consequential: we are living in the now, but with our lives pointed intentionally toward a goal. When we live in anticipation, we live intentionally, we live with purpose, and if we are pointing our lives toward God's kingdom, then we are living with God, and God's will becomes the guiding force in our lives.
Having a compass as awesome as God should put us all at ease, but I think it probably makes some of us nervous, much like those moments when we were learning to drive and our dad was sitting stoically beside us as we lurched and screeched our way through that particular rite of passage: the presence of our heavenly Father, like the presence of our earthly father, no matter how loving and supportive, makes us nervous because we are afraid, because we are self-conscious, because we are insecure.
If we trust God as our compass, if we live with our lives pointed toward his kingdom, then we should be able to navigate our lives. Time may be linear but lives are not. Each moment offers choices, and those choices make a difference. Robert Frost's two paths in the wood criss-cross throughout our lives, and we need to know which way to go, else we end up someplace we never wanted to be wondering what might have been. We may not always see God's guidance, but if we trust in it, if we rely on it, it will steer us right.
We all choose where we will live. I live in a place where the foothills of the Appalachian Mountains cozy up to the rolling horse farms of the Bluegrass. I live in an eighty-year-old house on a quiet street in a small town with a university in the same county where I grew up. I have chosen where I live based on a number of variables: I like having four distinct seasons, I have a sense of home connected with Kentucky, I like the people here, I like the house my wife found, I like my job (which is nearby), I like living near larger places that offer more cultural and culinary options, I like not actually living in those larger places because I hate traffic and crowds. We choose where we live based on a variety of factors--some within our control, others imposed upon us (which we accept or not, and thereby also control).
Just as we choose where we live geographically, we also choose where we live temporally--where we live in time. We are placed into a time, but how we live in that time is our choice. We can live in the moment, live in the past, live for tomorrow (or next week or next year)--or we can live in anticipation. Living in anticipation does not mean living outside of the present. In fact, living in anticipation requires that we live now. Those who try to live outside the present are bound to fail, as Miniver Cheevy so sadly discovers in the poem by E.A. Robinson ; however, living beyond the present, living in anticipation, means living in the now with a constant awareness of the future and, possibly, an awareness also of the past.
We have to live in the present because that is when we are. This is what we have, and we are supposed to use it; think of the present as something given to you (and this gets toward that sort of hokey pun [is that redundant?] about the present being a gift, but you were hoping to avoid that probably), like the talents in the parable. Ignoring the present is burying the one talent: we cannot, should not do that. We are to be stewards of whatever we have been given. I have heard many people speak of tithing their time, and rightly so. We have to use what we have been given to accomplish our commission.
Living in the present does not mean that we should ignore the past. Our past, personal as well as collective, has an impact on who we are and how we function. We are shaped by our own histories, and we have to be aware of them: as philosophers tell us, the unexamined life is not worth living. We need to know whence we came to better prepare for where we are going. I may not be proud of everything I have done, but those experiences are part of who I am. Things I have done may be forgiven--grace and mercy are amazing manifestations of God's love--but those things that God has forgiven and forgotten still have an impact on who I am and how I exist in any given moment, just as all the other moments have their own impact on my life. So living in the now does not preclude acknowledging the past. Nor does it mean ignoring the future.
Living in anticipation and living in the future are not the same things. Living in the future, in my world view, means always waiting for something that has not happened yet, whether that be finishing school, paying off the mortgage, getting married, whatever. Some people do not live their lives, they live in expectation of what might happen or what they want to happen. People who live in the future cannot enjoy the lives they have because they cannot be truly aware of the lives they have; they are so concerned, so distracted by what might be that they cannot see what is. Some people who happen to be labeled as Christians--and perhaps some who are not labeled that way--exist in the present but live in the future; more specifically, they live in the afterlife before they get there, and that is not what any of us should be doing. To live outside of the now, even if we are living in a place as wondrous as heaven (which is where everyone imagines him or herself after this life) cuts us off from the reality into which we have been placed.
Living in anticipation, on the other hand, is not about waiting. Living in anticipation means living in the now, but with knowledge of what is to come. This returns us to Emily Dickinson: "So instead of getting to Heaven, at last/ --I'm going, all along." If we live in the present, with the knowledge of the future, we are able to experience God--and thereby heaven itself--in our lives. Separating ourselves from the present is, in essence, separating ourselves from God. We are here now, and God is here now; we are not in the future now, although God is. By attempting to avoid the time we inhabit, we disconnect from God; ironically, many of us may believe we are trying to be closer to God.
To live in anticipation means to live with a goal; to live with a goal means to live with a purpose. It becomes a matter of substituting a preposition: we are not living in the future, we are living for the future. This might seem a trivial difference, but it is consequential: we are living in the now, but with our lives pointed intentionally toward a goal. When we live in anticipation, we live intentionally, we live with purpose, and if we are pointing our lives toward God's kingdom, then we are living with God, and God's will becomes the guiding force in our lives.
Having a compass as awesome as God should put us all at ease, but I think it probably makes some of us nervous, much like those moments when we were learning to drive and our dad was sitting stoically beside us as we lurched and screeched our way through that particular rite of passage: the presence of our heavenly Father, like the presence of our earthly father, no matter how loving and supportive, makes us nervous because we are afraid, because we are self-conscious, because we are insecure.
If we trust God as our compass, if we live with our lives pointed toward his kingdom, then we should be able to navigate our lives. Time may be linear but lives are not. Each moment offers choices, and those choices make a difference. Robert Frost's two paths in the wood criss-cross throughout our lives, and we need to know which way to go, else we end up someplace we never wanted to be wondering what might have been. We may not always see God's guidance, but if we trust in it, if we rely on it, it will steer us right.
posted by Rodney Rhodus | 7:18 AM
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