VERBAL DESCRIPTION & THE REAL THING
Not far from where I live is the Shimna River that flows
down the Mourne Mountains and into the Irish Sea. As a youngster I used
to go there with the boy’s club. Fast flowing, cold as ice and clear as
crystal, sparkling with a million lights in the sunshine, leaping,
foaming, gurgling, laughing at rocky obstacles, slowly whirling in
silence now and then to catch its breath before jumping over a rocky
edge again in reckless adventure, heading for the sea. That’s what I
remember.
And here is a tiny vial of it in a laboratory and a wise
man is daring to tell us that what’s in this glass tube is the Shimna
River. Well, actually, he didn’t have the nerve to call it the Shimna
River—he said it was H2O. Oh I don’t doubt the accuracy of
his learning or its importance, but even truth accurately told can
obliterate the sense of excitement of living truth that transcends one aspect of any truth.
True
lovers of flowers have their reservations about even good-natured
botanists with their horrible specimen dishes and tiny spades! "You
see?" she says, as she pulls to pieces an exquisite creation. "This is
the stem, here’s the petal and the stamens and the calyx." And as she
goes on ripping and dissecting, "Here’s the corona...." and before you
know it you have a withering heap that is no flower at all. The grace,
the poise, the witchery and the beauty are all gone.
And, God
forgive us, but some of us, before we’re done, we have the living,
vibrant, gallant, redeeming and glorious Christ lying before us, a pile
of old dogmas, bits of accurate information and the ground and support
of hundreds of moral opinions. In our teaching/preaching we confront
people, entire congregations of people, with facts, information,
explanation—great firewood no doubt but there's no fire.
Do
you know the difference between a verbal description of a lovely daisy
or your precious grandchild? Do you know the difference between the
verbal description of a glass of water and that cold, crystal liquid
that you’re gulping down at the end of a hot and dusty walk? Can you
guess the difference between an accurate analysis and description of a
savage and aggressive cancer and the one that’s actually stealing your
beloved?
Can you imagine the difference between the preacher’s
sermon or the teacher’s lesson and the exalted Jesus Christ who looks at
you even now? You can sense the difference between a photograph of
someone you adore and their very personal presence but can you imagine
the shock of joy (or something else) if Jesus Christ were actually
standing before you?
Don’t allow anyone to dismiss words.
They are indispensable to fullness of life. It’s invincible stupidity
to despise Bible study! But Jesus Christ is bigger than the gifted
preacher’s puny little gift or the wise teacher’s pitiful store of
knowledge and wisdom. He’s profoundly more than the hymns we sing. He’s
infinitely greater than even the Bible. This is personal! He’s
no abstraction or a set of truths. As surely as Shakespeare is greater
than his plays and Beethoven is greater than his compositions so Jesus
Christ is greater than his church or his creation and all the speakers
in the entire universe.
And because he is personal we must surely see to it that we talk to him and not just about him; that we talk about him while we're talking about him.
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