There is an old time hymn that goes like this:

“This world is not my home. I’m just a-passin’ through.

My treasures are laid up somewhere beyond the Blue.

The angels beckon me from Heaven’s open door,

And I can’t feel at home in this world anymore.”
This hymn depicts us longing for the day when we can begin our life in our real home – Heaven. The promise of heaven is sometimes the only thing that sustains us in this life when pain and suffering surround us. We carry a picture of the promise of eternal life like a photo in our wallets and take it out and gaze at it longingly when the going gets tough.
But Jesus stated very clearly at the onset of his earthly ministry that the Kingdom of Heaven is near. It is not some far off dream, a future reward. It is now. Thirty-two times in Matthew, Jesus repeats those words. What does that mean? What difference does it make? How do we experience this nearby kingdom that is now?
Living in the Kingdom of Heaven in the here and now requires a spiritual mindset, that as followers of Christ, we live in two parallel worlds. We have our earthly, temporal world, where we have a physical body and are limited by time and space. But we also have already set foot in the spiritual realm where we are not limited by time and space. We are given spiritual eyes that enable us to see, though dimly, a world beyond death where we live in holy communion with God. Dallas Willard states that there is but a thin veil that separates these two worlds – that heaven is as close as the air we breathe. That should give you goose bumps!
How do we access this other world? Richard Rohr describes it as learning the secret of dying before dying. The sooner we face our own mortality and die to our small, temporal self, the sooner we can step into the reality of heaven and embrace the freedom and largeness of life granted to us as children of God. And we can do and experience that right now! We don’t have to wait until we actually die.
I love this quote and have it on a plaque in my living room: “I am a child of God, one in whom Christ dwells, and I am living in the unshakeable kingdom of God.” When God’s kingdom is already our home, the perils of life have no lasting effect on us. We do not live in fear of anything. We are free to love and give freely of ourselves to advance his kingdom, to live with a broad understanding and purpose that is bigger than our own small, limited perspectives. 
We can go on longing for heaven and seeing it as a future place “somewhere beyond the blue”, or we can begin now to live the resurrection, to walk in the reality that the kingdom of heaven is here and now, because we know the One who died and rose again and he invites us to spend the rest of our earthly days enjoying the reality of eternal life with him right now. That is our choice everyday. We may be just “a-passin’ through”, but we don’t have to wait to experience the treasues of heaven. They are as close as the air we breathe. Amen? Amen!

A dream dies. You turn to walk away, putting aside all hope for another day. The ship has sailed and you pull up your collar against the biting wind and look for a direction- any direction – to go. The clock is ticking and you are not getting younger. The chrysalis hardens around your body and you don’t move much anymore.

You pull yourself over on the bench of the stale booth. You sip your iced tea and make small talk. Then he opens his mouth to speak. You feel a tiny flutter. It is possibly your heart. Half asleep in this dark, hard place, your wings have formed but never stretched.

He says more words. And tiny thread of gold makes its way through the tip of your shell. You do not react on the surface the way your insides are feeling. You strain to hear – first a faint note and then a quiet chord. You cannot remember all the words, but you begin to recognize the melody. You know it is something good, because your eyes are wet and your chin is lifting. You blink to make sure it is real – this light.

Dreams had died and faded away. How can it be that his words are breathing new life into that old dream? Why now? Why after so long could that dream be awakened and washed by such grace, such mercy? Allowed all at once to be who you were always meant to be? Not the person of your own creation, but receiver of unsolicited charis – grace not asked for, thought to be lost, dead, gone forever.

God is not yet finished. He has put desires and longings and gifts in me and just when I was sure it would never be, that maybe all my longing had been a mistake, a misunderstanding, it is all given to me – a banquet, a feast, a table set and prepared for me in the presence of my enemies – the naysayers, the voice in my own head that had said, “give it up.”

He has annointed my head with the oil of choosing. He chooses me. My cup overflows with blessing and gratitude and humble wonder at what is a new beginning. Resurrection. Alive again! Usable. Gifted. Commissioned. Chosen.

“The Lord your God is with you, He is mighty to save. He will take great delight in you, He will quiet you with His love, He will rejoice over you with singing.” Zephaniah 3:17

Today is hard because I have gotten to the other side of three joint replacement surgeries and I’m still not better.
Today is hard because it is Saturday and my son who lives 750 miles away is in town and I probably won’t see him til Wednesday.
Today is hard because I have hit that wall after surgery where you think you’re moving forward and instead you fall, fall, fall, into that dark pit of dispair and self-pity.
Today is hard because I can’t do anything for myself and everything I do is effort.
Today is hard because is is 5 days before Christmas and everyone is baking and shopping and wrapping and celebrating and I want to be but can’t.
Today is hard because I am taking all my rage and anger and dissappointment out on the one person who has been there for me through it all. I can’t stop myself and I hate that.
Today is hard because I have lost all empathy and compassion for anyone else but myself and it is an ugly thing.

I have given up retaliation for lent. As I contemplate Christ’s tight-lipped acceptance of his unjust and cruel demise, I have a new window into the cross – the one he bore, the one we are called to bare. Injustices happen to all of us on an everyday basis – some consequential, most not. What would the world look like – what would MY world look like – if I chose to let go of my “right” to stand up for myself in the midst of said injustices? What if I chose to forgive, be quiet, overlook, stop caring, about these things?

It would mean that I don’t have to honk and shake my fist at other drivers. It means I don’t need to act indignant or perturbed when the sales clerk is less than helpful and I have to help myself. It means I no longer speak cross words or even think cross thoughts when my spouse doesn’t do something to my liking. It means I shrug my shoulders at humanity, shake my head and smile at stupidity, it means I return rudeness with kindness and self-centeredness with generosity.

During this experiment, I am guessing there are physiological benefits for me as well, such as lowered blood pressure and a slower heart rate. My stress level settle down. There is a peacefulness and joy in my spirit – a gentle touch of his presence. By choosing to not get even, my spirit evens out. The ridiculousness and pettiness that drives me to scream, “Not fair!” is exposed. By letting go, I become vulnerable, weak, but submissive.

Injustice was settled once and for all with the resurrection – the lamb who was slain has absorbed all debt for all time. I don’t need to worry my little head over settling the insignificant wrongs done to me. And that makes everything seem right.

Christmas is put away – or at least I have made a dent. Its slightly earlier than normal. I always struggle with putting it away – you know – out of sight, out of mind. And who really wants to put it out of mind? Or even should?  We are so often in a hurry to put it all up and then in just as much of a hurry to put it back down. Sad. I usually wait at least until Epiphany to take it down – the day that celebrates the arrival of the Magi and their bestowal of gifts upon the holy child.

So, I am compromising. The wise men get to stay up for now – along with the obligatory camel that always must accompany them. I love the wise men and all that they represent. Educated, but not unteachable. Having arrived at their station in life, yet willing to journey, to follow their curiosity, to dream of a better kingdom far off and foreign, to be resident aliens in search of a better way. Brave enough to question kings, wise enough to outsmart those same kings. To be beckoned by a celestial anomoly enough to not just wonder, but to actually set out – embark – seek out – discover.

That is who I want to be. Not set, not closed, not wooden and self-righteous. But brave, teachable, wise, curious, smart. Maybe that is why it is called epiphany.  

I’ve gone and done it now – foraged into “blogdom”. I have threatened and schemed for a long time, but remained a dime-sitter. Until now. So, today I begin. I dedicate this blog to myself – my meandering musings, my need to think outloud, to give voice to what usually only lives in my head. To stir up the pot, or to tie in a bow – and everything in between. I am a resident of this planet, placed here by my Creator in this here and now. I am an alien of this world, my heart attuned to a different drum, a way of life counter to most dwellers of this earth. This is not to be a place for judgement or battle, but one of justice and peace – true shalom. So, here goes…