Heaven and Earth and The Space In Between
There are two worlds. There’s this tangible one with sounds and shapes and tastes. It’s the ground we walk on and the air we breathe, the meals we share around the table, the conversations we have. This world is marked by color and diversity, beauty and imperfection, loveliness and decay. It’s rainbows and humidity, pay checks and grocery lists. It’s the here and now, everything that can be measured by the five senses.
But the beauty of this world only holds merit in light of another world. One filled with thirst and desperation, light and darkness, grief and transformation. Every so often the curtain over this other world grows thinner and we see glimpses of it here on earth. We feel it in our desperate tears praying for breakthrough. We sense it when we go through dark spaces and the light feels especially far away. We long for it when we lose someone we love or the trials in this life bring a weight heavier than we can bear.
I’ve felt it particularly on long runs early in the morning, when I feel euphoric and untouchable. I’ve also felt it crying out the name of Jesus late at night when my anxiety feels crushing and insurmountable. And lately I’ve become more aware of the battle taking place in this other world because I see it paralleled in the news reports and stories unfolding around me.
To the naturalist, this world is all there is. Intangible things might as well be placed in the fables with fairies and unicorns. But there are also many believers who live their life as though this world is the only reality. This is the group I am addressing here.
I have this theory that in other parts of the world, where poverty and war-torn nations have ravaged, the natural and the supernatural are nearly one and the same. In places where witch doctors and demonic strongholds are commonplace, so are accounts of miraculous healings and prophetic dreams and divine intervention. I think it’s because desperation keeps people from becoming too distracted or too complacent. But here in America, we are cushy, comfortable, self-sufficient. We don’t witness as many miracles because we’ve surrounded ourselves with everything we could possibly need; there’s no need for God.
It’s scary to some people to picture a home where casting out demons is a thing, but what’s scary to me is a place of worship too complacent to recognize it’s need for the one we are supposed to be worshiping. Where some might find it unnerving to live in a war-torn village where underground churches are at constant risk of persecution, what I find unnerving is an army of sleepy soldiers who don’t even know how to pick up their own swords. If you’re no longer following me, I’m referring to the sleeping church. The one that preaches the name-it-and-claim-it prosperity gospel. The one that walks according to the exact letter of the law at the expense of hating its own brothers and sisters. The one that keeps church inside four tidy walls, checks its watch to ensure the service hasn’t seeped outside that one hour mark, and keeps its hands tucked tightly in its pockets during worship. This body is merely a hardened heart hidden behind a put-together exterior.
What if there was complete and utter breakthrough just on the other side of our comfort zones?
This church has been slowly conditioned to believe that somehow showing up one hour a week equates to a relationship with the Living God. That the Word of God is merely a book of instructions and not a weapon of Truth in a society infiltrated by lies and disillusionment. That prayer is not the currency by which we gain Heaven’s attention and demons are slain. It’s easy to chunk the spiritual realm in with the crazy charismatics to avoid taking responsibility for that quiet voice inside beckoning us to change our lives.
But what if other places in the world knew something we didn’t? What if we’ve been lulled to sleep for so long, being told that it’s enough to get a good job and raise a decent family? God doesn’t expect anything else of you but to cuss less and manage your drinking, drive the speed limit and be a regular attendee at your local church. What if we’ve created a religion that is not only empty and unfulfilling, but toxic?
What if the life God has called His children to is supposed to be exciting and wholly-surrendered and a little bit scary? What if there was complete and utter breakthrough just on the other side of our comfort zones? What if the antidote to all the hatred that exists today was found in the upside down gospel of Jesus, reminding us that our battle is not against flesh and blood but against rulers in the unseen realm? That Love has a name and the same spirit that brought Jesus back from the grave lives inside each one of us?
And what if believers began to bring Heaven down by committing to pray more and listen to the voice of the Holy Spirit when He beckons us to move? I’m learning that the more seriously we take concerns of Heaven, the less seriously we begin to take the concerns of Earth. And that to me looks like Heaven breaking through.