Page 637 – Christianity Today (2024)

This past weekend, millions of moviegoers saw A Wrinkle in Time and joined a group of tessering travelers as they warped through higher dimensions in pursuit of the heroine’s missing father. The film is, of course, based on the classic Newbery Award–winning children’s novel written by Madeleine L’Engle, a committed Christian who drew heavily on her personal study of modern physics as inspiration for the book.

In a 1979 interview with Christianity Today, L’Engle spoke of the mystical nature of contemporary physics and how science “should help us enlarge our vision: never change it, never diminish it, but enlarge it.” This can be said most of all about the science of higher dimensions upon which A Wrinkle in Time is based.

Nearly 100 years ago, the first scientific evidence for higher dimensions emerged. Since that time, the science community has reached a broad consensus that the universe contains at least five dimensions and perhaps many more. For some, conceptualizing multiple dimensions bears resemblance to Christian thinking on a spiritual world. N. T. Wright has gone so far as to say that “Heaven is the extra dimension, the God-dimension, of all our present reality.”

But the higher dimensions described by science are not merely spiritual, they are physical. Therefore they can be explored and even measured through science. In fact, today physicists at the world’s largest particle accelerator, the Large Hadron Collider, are conducting experiments that would allow them to detect and measure properties of these higher dimensions. This begs the uncomfortable question, “Can heaven be detected by a particle accelerator?”

To some, this may feel like yet one more encroachment of science into matters of faith. But I would like to offer an alternate interpretation: Could the physics of higher dimensions allow us to integrate the physical and spiritual worlds into a common framework, where they are no longer seen as separate disconnected realities but rather as a single cohesive creation? To see this vision, though, we will first need a quick primer on the physics of higher dimensions.

In 1919, the physicist Theodor Kaluza wrote a letter to Albert Einstein which contained a mathematical proof demonstrating how Einstein’s equations for gravity, when written in five dimensions, can also explain the behavior of electricity and magnetism. This was a truly shocking discovery that led Einstein himself to admit that it “would never have dawned on me.” The insight was so elegant and profound that it led to an entire branch of theoretical physics called string theory, which remains an area of active research to this day.

What exactly do we mean by five dimensions? Well, there are the three dimensions of space we are accustomed to (depth, width, and height), one dimension of time, and at least one additional dimension of space. It turns out that any time we add an extra dimension of space, our conception of what is possible expands dramatically.

Take, for example, the move from one dimension to two dimensions. In one dimension, all we have is length. The only “creatures” in such a world would be lines, and these lines could never move past one another. They are confined to sliding back and forth, bumping into one another like beads on a wire. When we add a second dimension, however, a whole new world of possibility is opened—up and down! Suddenly lines can move above or below one another, they can spin around and point in new directions, and they can even bend to take on new a form, like a circle.

The move from two dimensions to three dimensions is equally transformative. Consider the 1884 novel Flatland by Edwin Abbott, which follows the life of a square who lives in an entirely two-dimensional world. One day, he is visited by a mysterious creature who calls himself a “sphere.” To the square, the sphere appears only as a circle, but it seems to possess supernatural powers. As it moves above, below, and through the flat two-dimensional world, the sphere appears, disappears, and continuously changes size. It can mysteriously manifest inside a locked room simply by going over the wall, an idea that is entirely inconceivable to the square until he visits the three-dimensional Spaceland and sees the true nature of his mysterious visitor.

By natural extension, adding a single dimension of space to our three-dimensional experience has profound implications. Our entire universe, then, becomes just one layer in an infinite stack. Moving into this higher dimension, even if only a millimeter above or below our fingertips, we can find other planes of reality that are completely unseen and untouched by humanity. Modern physics suggests that belief in such an unseen reality is not only rational but scientific. It takes only a small leap of imagination, then, to wonder whether Jesus had access to such higher dimensions. Could he have tessered through space and time?

Scripture contains many beautiful yet bizarre stories of the spiritual world intersecting the physical world. These are challenging stories—the parting of the Red Sea, the chariots of fire, or the hand writing on the wall. How do we make sense of these stories in modern times? Do we look for naturalistic explanations? Or do we throw up our hands and simply say that they are miraculous events that cannot be explained?

What Christians label as miraculous can be misinterpreted as magical fairy tales by a culture that is steeped in a scientific worldview rooted in the philosophy of materialism. What if, as for L’Engle, physics could stoke a broader vision among would-be believers? Perhaps there is a pathway in the dialogue between faith and science that demonstrates how each illuminates rather than contradicts the other.

Modern physics opens the door to the possibility that the spiritual reality described in Scripture can be understood through the mind-bending logic of higher dimensions. For example, a locked upper room is no barrier for a risen Christ with access to higher dimensions, a fiery furnace cannot consume three friends when they are safely stowed away in a hidden dimension of space, and a hyper-dimensional kingdom of heaven can be simultaneously in our midst and yet not fully accessible.

This is not to diminish the importance of faith—in fact, just the opposite is true. The author of Hebrews 11:1 tells us that faith is “confidence in what we hope for and assurance about what we do not see.” The scientific community is continuously giving us even more assurance that our belief in an unseen reality is justified and rational.

Of all the characters in A Wrinkle in Time, my personal favorite is Aunt Beast. A creature without eyes or vision, Aunt Beast explains that her kind, “do not know what things look like. We know what things are like. It must be a very limiting thing, this seeing.” I tend to agree. Our sight can often blind us to the true nature of things. (Needless to say, Aunt Beast does not appear in the film adaptation, which begs the question of whether Hollywood can really handle the spiritual themes of A Wrinkle in Time.)

But, as L’Engle suggests, the physics of higher dimensions can enlarge our vision, enabling us to see through our physical world—this broken layer of a much larger reality—and to imagine that the physical and spiritual worlds are not separate and disconnected but rather that they are a single cohesive creation that waits in eager anticipation for the restoration of all things.

And as we wait, we take great comfort in knowing that the deposit on this restoration has already been made. Through Christ’s ascension, our human flesh resides in heaven, and in return, Christ has sent his Spirit to live among us. The reunion of physical and spiritual has already begun.

Andrew Vanden Heuvel is a professor of physics and astronomy at several community colleges across the country. He works from his home office near Grand Haven, Michigan.

It’s something we all do: we see the headlines, read the news, and think, That’s tragic. I hope it never happens here.

Unfortunately, church leaders are not immune to this kind of thinking—and it may prevent us from taking the precautions necessary for safe (and legal) ministries. Pastors must educate themselves, their boards, and other staff members on the issues that could land them in court. Each of the following stories concerns a church that recently encountered such issues.

Church Factions Compete over Property

For years, sexual abuse of a minor was the number one reason churches went to court. That changed in 2016, when property disputes took the top spot. Disagreements over church property can often lead to legal trouble, as in the following case. According to legal blog Religion Clause, two factions of Little Ettie Old Regular Baptist Church in Beaver, Ohio “both claimed ownership of the[ir] church’s property.” A trial court and appellate court ruled that the two factions would have to share the church building, as they were “equally entitled to church property.” This sends pastors a clear message: Be aware of the legal matters that could affect your property, and ensure that policies, procedures, and documentation are in place before a disagreement erupts.

Saddleback Church Faces Sexual Abuse Allegations

Though no longer the top reason churches end up in court, sexual abuse remains a major issue in churches large and small. Last year, California-based megachurch Saddleback found itself in headlines when accusations were brought forward against a former youth mentor. The Los Angeles Times reported that the accused volunteer had been involved at the church for six years and had “developed relationships” with two boys.

Saddleback’s ministries are far from careless when it comes to screening—according to the Times, “Its volunteers are fingerprinted, their backgrounds are checked, and … they receive annual training on appropriate conduct.” When faced with this case, church leaders may feel discouraged: If this happened at Saddleback, what hope do we have for preventing something similar? Don’t despair. Although you can’t completely negate these risks, you can take steps to minimize them. Stay vigilant, reexamine current procedures, and explore opportunities for further training (like Church Law & Tax’s Reducing the Risk program) to protect the children in your church.

No Legal Recourse for Syrian Man in Oklahoma Church Lawsuit

For most Christians, baptisms are a cause for celebration—but for an ex-Muslim man from Syria, his baptism was nearly his death sentence. He was baptized at his Oklahoma church in 2012, but he requested that the announcement not be made public. When he returned to Syria, Islamic extremists (including members of his family) captured, tortured, and nearly executed him for his conversion to Christianity, though he managed to escape. According to a report in Christianity Today’s Gleanings, the church “had included [his] baptism in its weekly bulletin announcements, then posted those announcements online.” Upon his return to the US, he sued his church for negligence, outrage, and breach of contract.

In a ruling early last year, the Oklahoma Supreme Court ultimately sided with the man’s church—but the 5–3 decision hints at the complicated, inconsistent relationship between church and state. Some argued that the ruling was a victory for religious liberty, others that the case was not a matter of doctrine and the church should not have been protected. Courts don’t always intervene in such cases, so for every item you make public, ask yourself, Is this better kept private?

A Landmark Religious Freedom Ruling

The US Supreme Court handed down a historic ruling last summer in Trinity Lutheran Church v. Comer. Trinity Lutheran Church’s preschool and daycare applied to participate in Missouri’s Scrap Tire Program to replace its playground surface. Its application was rejected, with the state’s Department of Natural Resources arguing that, based on the state constitution, the funds couldn’t go to a church. The church then sued the department’s director, eventually seeking review by the Supreme Court. The 7–2 SCOTUS ruling found the denial of Trinity Lutheran’s application to be unconstitutional and a violation of the First Amendment’s right to free exercise of religion.

From a risk management perspective, this case could establish a critical precedent for cases involving churches and religious freedom. Richard Hammar notes in his write-up on the ruling, “This case recognizes … that churches are members of the community, too, and cannot be excluded from government benefit programs solely on the basis of their religious status.”

Violent Incidents at Churches—and a Deadly Common Denominator

In November of 2016, in Jamestown, New York, 36-year-old Shari J. Robbins encountered her estranged husband—against whom she had a restraining order— in a church parking lot. During the confrontation, Robbins’s husband shot and killed her.

Of 2016’s 29 deadly attacks on church property in which the attacker’s motive is known, 11 were the result of domestic abuse spillovers. Church security expert Carl Chinn says, “While church leaders spend a significant amount of time, money, and thought preparing for intruders or outside attacks, they should also remember this grave danger [of domestic abuse] facing their churches.”

Chinn continues, “When leaders see familial relationships in stress—be it an angry spouse, sibling, or child—they should take notice and act accordingly. … Perhaps the best way to see signs of domestic abuse is to have an intentional group of people looking for it.”

Note: At press time, these summaries were accurate and current—but additional appeals and updates may unfold, and due to the nature of the US legal system, laws and regulations constantly change. The editors encourage readers to carefully search for content related to the topic of interest and consult qualified local counsel to verify the status of specific statutes, laws, regulations, and precedential court holdings.

Emily Lund is assistant editor of Church Law & Tax. For more like this, visit ChurchLaw&Tax.com.

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Erica Komisar is a social worker and psychoanalyst who believes young children are faring worse than they were even 30 years ago. In her practice, “I was seeing an increase in children with mental disorders, being diagnosed earlier and medicated at an early age.” After 13 years spent researching neuroscience, attachment theory, and psychoanalysis, Komisar linked this increase to a social devaluing of mothering and an inability for many women to be present to their children in the first three years of life.

Such a diagnosis, Komisar says, has cheered social conservatives—until she gets to her policy solution: at least one year of federally mandated paid maternity leave, with part-time and flexible options for two more years. “All mothers and babies should have the right to be together in the first year.” In other words, babies need mothers, but mothers—especially single and working-class ones—need tangible, societal, and fiscal support in order to nurture their babies during such a crucial time.

Komisar spoke with CT editor at large Katelyn Beaty about these and other themes found in her book, Being There: Why Prioritizing Motherhood in the First Three Years Matters, as well as what Christian communities offer to the conversation.

Why is it the case that a child’s well-being apparently comes down to his or her secure attachment with the mother and not the father or other caregivers?

Mothers and fathers nurture differently for the most part, and the research backed that up. Mothers and fathers can be equal in many ways, in intelligence, in pay, in the kinds of jobs they do, but the truth is that we’re different biologically.

One of the differences is the biological difference in nurturing because nurturing comes from a particular part of the brain. Basically, when women nurture, when they’re pregnant and give birth and breastfeed and nurture, they produce oxytocin in their brains, a love hormone, a neuropeptide, and it makes women more sensitive and empathic. So it makes women look at their babies’ pain and soothe their babies who are in distress by reflecting the pain, and it’s a natural instinct of healthy mothers whose own mothers have done that for them.

When fathers nurture, particularly as primary caregivers, they also produce oxytocin, but it has a different impact on their brains. When fathers produce oxytocin, it makes them more playful and engage in tactile play with their babies. They’ll tickle their babies, wrestle with their babies, distract their babies away from pain. It’s not making them more empathic, it’s making them more encouraging of the babies to get past the pain. When fathers were given intranasal oxytocin in experiments to see if they could be more like mothers, they actually tickled the babies harder and chased the babies around more. It didn’t make them more sensitive, empathic nurturers.

That may be the politically incorrect thing, but it’s just the truth in terms of what the research shows: Mothers and fathers are different in terms of nurture.

How does this finding inform how women make decisions about work? Many women are in the workplace, either full-time or part-time, and simply can’t choose to be at home full-time caring for their children.

One of the problems that we have in our culture and society is that we have no paid maternity leave, and it’s a real, urgent problem. If you are a middle-class or upper-middle-class woman, you have many more choices than a woman who is poor in terms of being able to stay with your child for up to a year and have flexibility. What I advocate is that we give all women [new mothers] a year off of work and that we pay them to stay home with their babies. After that, we give them the option of another two years of the ability to work part-time and flexibly so that they have control over their work; they can still work but prioritize their children. The book is not about working versus not working, but about more is more.

Do you advocate for a federally mandated one-year paid maternity leave?

Oh yes. In Slovenia, they give three years of fully paid maternity leave. What do they have in other countries? They have a year, sometimes 18 months, and it’s not always fully paid, but there’s paid maternity leave for up to 18 months. Is it such a stretch of the imagination to say we could have an insurance policy from the time we start working as parents—and men too, because they need paternity leave—we put $10 away out of each paycheck into a special insurance fund that pays us back when we need to take parental leave, and if we don’t have children, that goes back into our general pension or social security fund. Would that be such a hard thing for the government to do?

It seems like progressives would be really receptive to your policy conclusions but not necessarily to your research around the differences between mothers and fathers. And that conservatives would be receptive to your research about the differences between mothers and fathers but not necessarily the proposed policy conclusions. Is that the case, and is there common ground?

I try not to be political with this issue, and yet it falls into this political crack. Liberals reject these ideas because they believe in gender neutrality and gender equality, and somehow this defies this, and it also defies … the idea that women can do everything all at the same time and have everything.

I have cricket silence from the press on the liberal side because they don’t even want to hear that men and women actually might be different and the women can have everything in life, just not at the same time. To them, it’s an anti-feminist message.

The fiscally conservative right wing would hope that the faith-based communities would support family life [but] they’re talking to a middle-class population, and it’s like denying that more than half of this country lives below the poverty line. It’s a denial that most women do not work in an accounting firm or even in a restaurant; they work at McDonald’s and they earn minimum wage. Conservatives love my family-first message, but you have to pay for that message, you have to put your money where your mouth is, otherwise it’s just talk.

I think both liberals and conservatives focus way too much on the economics of mothering, the whole field of social economics, which is basically focused on why women should work from an economic perspective and not what it does to children or mothers, and how it tears families apart. That’s both a conservative and a liberal problem.

It seems there would also need to be a shift in workplace values, fostering workplaces that value their workers not just for their productivity but also for their family commitments, too.

It’s two-fold. I’m a psychoanalyst, which means I focus on people’s interiors, but I’m also a social worker, which means I focus on the environment, and the environment needs to change. We need a government that recognizes the maternal-child bond and what that does for the mental health of its citizens. Every other civilized country in the world recognizes this except ours, so that’s the first thing.

The second thing: For businesses, the bottom line is their greatest interest. So if you’re going to work in a business, you want to look for a business that puts their money where their mouth is. Look for a company that actually offers not just six weeks of paid maternity leave but three, four, six months. The issue that I have with businesses is that they may provide paid maternity leave, but women are afraid to take the maternity leave, so the culture of the place has to change. At Yahoo! Marissa Mayer offered a great maternity leave policy for her employees, but then she had twins and was back at work after two weeks. If the CEO of your company comes back to work when her body hasn’t even healed, how do you then take six months off?

Lots of my female peers are married and have young children. From my vantage, they are supremely conscious of the fact that everything they do as a mother will affect the child someday. How do you offer your advice without making women feel an incredible burden and guilt for not being perfect in their ability to be present to their children at all times?

First, I want to straighten out that guilt is not a bad feeling. A famous psychoanalyst named Hans Loewald says that guilt is a signal feeling. Guilt is like physical pain; it basically implies that there’s an internal conflict, in this case, that the mother has. As a society, we tell women, “Don’t feel guilty, bury the guilt, dig a big hole, and stick it in there. Your baby will be fine and you’ll be fine.” If you were playing basketball and you broke your ankle, and your coach told you to ignore the pain and play on the ankle, would that be a good thing?

When we have pain or conflict, in this case, it’s our psyche’s way of telling us we have a conflict and need to look at and resolve the conflict, and we might actually make different choices if we look at the conflict, but we certainly don’t want to bury the conflict. Maybe the question we need to ask is, “Why are there so many mothers who feel so conflicted?” Why have we created a society that forces mothers away from their babies so early that they have to feel conflict?

What can faith communities uniquely offer to this conversation?

I’m Jewish, and in Judaism, we say isheree ahava, which in Hebrew means the sacred obligation to love your children. At a very early age, we have to teach our children the sacrifice part. In our day, we go into our 20s and 30s with a fantasy, an illusion about what it means to be a youthful person and have a perfect life, and we go into it thinking we can have everything all at the same time and sacrifice nothing. As a faith-based community, the Christian Bible talks about sacrifice, how having children does require sacrifice in those early years. You’re going to sacrifice financially [or] your ego and your career ambitions for a little while. Maybe you live near your family and you don’t want to do that; maybe you sacrifice in that way. Even the idea of educating your children that it’s much better not to be alone when we have children. Women are very isolated, which brings on a lot of these postpartum symptoms. We’re not meant to raise children alone; we’re meant to raise children in close-knit families and communities.

Katelyn Beaty is an editor at large for Christianity Today magazine and the author of A Woman’s Place: A Christian Vision for Your Calling in the Office, the Home, and the World (Howard / Simon & Schuster) which has recently been released in paperback with an accompanying small group curriculum (Abingdon).

Virginia State Parks / Flickr

An Ontario judge ruled this week that a foster agency violated a Protestant couple’s religious freedom rights when it opted to remove two children from their home and ban them from fostering over their refusal to teach about the Easter Bunny.

Frances and Derek Baars didn’t grow up learning about the Easter Bunny or Santa Claus, and didn’t want to lie about the fictional figures to the 3- and 4-year-old sisters in their care. Their convictions, based on Christian beliefs, raised concerns among the Children’s Aid Society (CAS) of Hamilton—which took the children away from the Baars with just a day’s notice, citing the couple’s refusal to respect the girls’ cultural traditions.

As committed members of a small Presbyterian denomination, the Baars assumed there would be instances where their values wouldn’t line up with CAS, a government-approved, secular organization that they knew placed kids with same-sex parents and supported gender transition for youth. But they never anticipated what happened back in 2016.

“If someone had told us then that the Easter Bunny and Santa would team up against us, we would have asked what they were smoking,” Derek Baars said this week in an interview with CT.

Like some in the Reformed Presbyterian Church of North America, the Baars do not observe Easter and Christmas, keeping only the Sabbath as a holy day. When they became foster parents in December 2015, they altered their celebrations to purchase Christmas gifts for the girls and take them to a family gathering as well as a Sunday school program at another church.

Beyond their own theological views of Christian holidays, “We have a strict ‘no lying’ policy, because God is the God of truth who is Truth, and telling kids that the Easter Bunny and Santa are real is lying,” Frances Baars told CT. They had shared their positions against the Easter Bunny, Santa, and other traditions like Halloween during their training and home study.

Even though the children’s birth mother gave no instructions specifically regarding the Easter Bunny or Santa, CAS staff still brought up Santa with the foster children and urged the Baars to explicitly incorporate the Easter Bunny, specifically “the tradition of the Easter [B]unny bringing chocolate Easter eggs,” according to the court document.

Later, one placement worker, Tracey Lindsay, expressed concern that the Baars would condemn potential gay or lesbian adoptive parents for their girls, though the couple assured her otherwise.

“It seems likely that Lindsay’s discussion regarding prospective same-sex couples to the Baars was fueled by a potential stereotypical belief in the inability of Christians to support same-sex marriage,” wrote Justice Andrew Goodman of the Superior Court of Justice in Ontario.

In a 62-page decision issued Tuesday, Goodman concluded that CAS violated the Baars’s religious protections under the Canadian Charter of Rights and Freedoms. He ordered that the organization update their file to reflect their standing, so that the Baars’s history won’t keep them from future opportunities to adopt or serve as foster parents. (They have since begun the adoption process in another province.)

“Their constitutional rights of freedom of religion and freedom of expression have been infringed and must be remedied in a manner that is appropriate and just in the circ*mstances,” Goodman wrote. “The Society didn’t reasonably accommodate the Baars or even attempt to.”

The Reformed Presbyterian couple sought no compensation in the lawsuit, but wanted to ensure fair treatment for fellow Christian couples in Canada seeking to open their homes to children.

“When they told us, ‘You must lie to these children or they would be removed,’ we knew that we were not responsible for the result of doing what’s right, and God would take care of us,” Derek Baars told CT. “He has upheld us.”

“The favorable result has been tremendously encouraging for our brothers and sisters in the Lord,” who had joined them to pray that God would “turn the judge’s heart” as he does with the king’s heart in Proverbs 21:1, Baars said. He noted that the Alliance Defending Freedom, a US-based group advocating religious liberty, sent funds to support the Canadian law firm that represented the couple.

The potential clash between faith protections and LGBT rights has come up in the United States as well; but often the other way around, with religious agencies confronting fear or pressure over their requirements for adoptive or foster parents.

South Carolina’s top foster care agency, Miracle Hill, is currently facing legal backlash involving the Palmetto State’s department of social services for requiring that foster parents share its Christian faith. Last year, Texas and South Dakota passed protections allowing state-funded child welfare agencies to continue to use faith-based restrictions for family placements.

Many adoptive and foster parents are Christian, and it’s less likely for them to face discrimination like the Baars in Canada. “While less overt discrimination cases may occur on occasion in US foster care, it’s not the norm,” according to Kelly Rosati, a former Focus on the Family leader and mom to four kids adopted from foster care.

“I worry that the discrimination fear is used as an excuse not to engage and help these kids who desperately need permanent and loving families,” Rosati told CT, noting that more than 100,000 kids in US foster care are awaiting adoption.

A similar case to the Baars’s took place in 2011 in the United Kingdom, where a judge sided against a potential set of foster parents who said during the application stage that they would not endorse hom*osexuality to children in their home due to their Pentecostal Christian beliefs. The court ruled that “laws protecting people from discrimination because of their sexual orientation ‘should take precedence’ over the right not to be discriminated against on religious grounds.”

Perhaps you are one of the blessed few who are entirely content with their appearance. Perhaps you never stand in front of the mirror, as I did this morning, wondering as you take in the image before you, “Why didn’t God improve on that?”

While we’re at it, why didn’t God make you smarter? Stronger? More creative? More insightful? More wonderful in every way?

If, like some irritating friends of mine, you happen to be reasonably good-looking, talented, prosperous, healthy, and happy, asking such questions could seem downright greedy. But lots of us are obviously lacking in one or more of these zones.

Or so it would seem.

But in the kingdom of God, things are not always as they appear.

Jesus is pausing with his disciples in the region of Caesarea Philippi. He asks them how he is currently viewed by the populace, and the response seems very promising: “Some say John the Baptist; others say Elijah; and still others, Jeremiah or one of the prophets” (Matt. 16:14).

One would think a rabbi couldn’t do any better, but Jesus then asks the disciples their opinion.

Peter, one of those keen pupils who instantly sticks up his hand whether he knows the answer or not, replies at once: “You are the Messiah, the Son of the living God.”

For once, Peter is right, and Jesus blesses him. But “then he ordered his disciples not to tell anyone that he was the Messiah.”

This is a bit disappointing. Peter finally gets an answer right, and he can’t tell anyone? In fact, he gets The Answer right and he can’t tell anyone? Why in the world not?

“From that time on Jesus began to explain to his disciples that he must go to Jerusalem and suffer many things at the hands of the elders, the chief priests and the teachers of the law, and that he must be killed and on the third day be raised to life” (v. 21).

Jesus connects his messiahship, his appointment as the very Instrument of God, with suffering and death … and at the hands of the very people who ought to be his strongest supporters, the religious leaders of the people of God.

This shockingly contradictory idea provokes another outburst from Peter, which Jesus stifles and sets in order. But soon after that, things get even stranger.

Dazzling Savior

Jesus takes Peter and his other two closest associates, James and John, up a “high mountain” (Matt. 17:1–11). I’ve lived in British Columbia for 20 years and wouldn’t use that term for a slight elevation in the Levant. But I would be missing the point. “High mountains” in the Bible are where certain famous Israelites have met God, notably Moses on Sinai and Elijah on Carmel.

Sure enough, Moses and Elijah appear on this high mountain, too. But instead of meeting Yahweh, they meet with Jesus. And such a Jesus! “His face shone like the sun, and his clothes became as white as the light” (v. 2).

Peter, once again quick on the draw, wants this amazing meeting to continue so he offers to build shelters for them. But then a bright cloud (yes, just like at Sinai) envelops them and a Voice says, “This is my Son, whom I love; with him I am well pleased. Listen to him!”

The disciples do the natural thing: They fall to the ground, terrified. But Jesus tells them to get up and stop being afraid. They do, and they see only Jesus remaining.

They see that, as important as it is for Jews to pay attention to Moses and Elijah, to the Law and the Prophets, it is supremely important for them to listen to the very Son of God.

And then that Son of God, just now revealed to them in his dazzling heavenly splendor, says this: “Don’t tell anyone what you have seen, until the Son of Man has been raised from the dead.”

Not again! Peter must have been ready to explode. Why would Jesus silence them about the greatest sight anyone had seen for hundreds of years?

Jesus reminds them that his forerunner, John the Baptist, has already been killed. The implication is clear: If the powers that be are willing to execute someone as popular as John to ward off any challenge to their position, how much worse would they do to someone reported to be the glowing Son of the living God?

James Bond and Jesus

Jesus had to look and sound like an ordinary man—a man so literally nondescript that we have no record of his appearance. He had to do so in order to do what needed to be done: serve as the Son of Man, the representative and model of humanity, quietly making known the good news of the kingdom of God and training his disciples to take over his work once he inevitably came to the attention of those powers and received the predictable treatment from their ruthless hands.

Why didn’t God make even Jesus more beautiful? If he was capable of shining like the sun, why didn’t he do so all the time? For one fundamental reason: Jesus had a calling, a vocation, a mission to fulfill. As God’s Messiah, he was anointed to perform a certain task. And that task required him to look ordinary, not spectacular. So he did.

Perhaps, however, you have a little trouble relating to Jesus. He is the Son of the living God, after all. Fair enough. Let’s consider a somewhat different illustration. How about James Bond?

The Bond movies have starred such actors as Sean Connery, Roger Moore, Timothy Dalton, Pierce Brosnan, and Daniel Craig—and, indeed, George Lazenby. Now, among the less plausible features of this entirely implausible series are the striking good looks of these men. But James Bond is supposed to be a secret agent. When Sean Connery or Pierce Brosnan enters a room, everyone notices. How long does he stay anonymous? About two seconds.

I, on the other hand, routinely enter, dawdle in, and exit rooms without anyone paying the slightest attention. It follows, by inexorable logic, that I could be an excellent secret agent. “The name is Stackhouse: John Stackhouse.” I could steal the formula, the fortune, and the femme fatale and no one would notice.

To Do Only What You Can Do

Beautiful people have a burden, and they are a burden. Have you ever tried to work beside someone who is fiercely handsome or unusually lovely? You can’t get anything done, can you? In fact, when faced with such a situation, the only sensible thing to do is to marry the person. (Which is what my wife did. But I digress.)

We truly ought to give thanks to God that we are not more gorgeous than we are—or more intelligent, or more creative, or more rich, or more influential, or more wise, or more whatever—because if we were much more gifted, we could not function the same way in our particular roles. People might write off our testimony to the Lord’s blessing in our lives with the ready retort, “Well, that’s easy for you to say.” Or they might never feel they could identify with us, living as we do in a bubble of blessing, and so they could never confide in us. Or they might try to push their way into the kingdom of God for the wrong reasons, to enjoy the trappings rather than the substance of the gospel of renewal, and that would be bad, too.

God wants the whole world back. So God places his people in every walk of life, in every social stratum, in every ethnic group, and in every locale precisely to maximize God’s influence and draw the world most effectively to God’s heart. Thus God strategically deploys individuals and equips them to fit their respective missions.

I am situated where I am, and I am the person I am, precisely to do what only a Christian such as I am can do: namely, to live this particular Christian life and be a witness in my particular way in my particular social matrix. I alone have this set of relatives, friends, co-workers, enemies, neighbors, and so on, and I alone am this sort of person. Therefore I alone can exert the particular benign influence on each of these people that I alone can exert.

This all can sound nonsensically repetitive, of course, but it isn’t. Such a statement is vital to the realization that God has not made mistakes in making each of us who we are and placing us where God has in order to get done what God wants to get done. One day, thank God, we will be more beautiful and talented than we are today. But for now we are “undercover,” playing the roles we have been given in order to achieve key mission objectives that simply could not be achieved were we to drop our disguises and appear in the glory that God has prepared for us (2 Cor. 3:18; 4:17; 1 John 3:2).

The sober implication of all this is that we should accept ourselves and our situation because we trust that God has wisely and kindly assigned us to be a certain sort of person doing a certain sort of work. Yes, there are times in which God calls people out of their situations into greater freedom—or into heavier forms of service. Sometimes God’s call is surprising and disruptive. Normally, however, we can be assured that unless we have simply run away from God, he has positioned us throughout our lives to do what we alone can do. And however hard it has been—and God’s calling is sometimes excruciating—it’s for only 70 or 80 years, at the most, and then we get to go home and truly be ourselves (2 Cor. 4:16–18).

We’re Not Playacting

I daresay, furthermore, that this picture of being called by God to participate in a series of assignments during a lifetime mission is an important improvement upon the common metaphor of our being issued roles in a play. The image of drama has a venerable heritage in Christian thought, to be sure, and it has its uses. (After all, when the likes of Søren Kierkegaard, C. S. Lewis, N. T. Wright, and Kevin Vanhoozer capitalize on the image, one is wise to give it its due.)

But drama isn’t real—and our lives certainly are. We are not playacting. We are, the Bible says, in a war. A long war, sometimes hot, sometimes cold, but always a grim contest with life-and-death results. The challenges are real, the threats are real, the deprivations and sufferings are real—and so are the outcomes real. You, like me, may find it much more encouraging to keep remembering, in each season and circ*mstance of life, that you are being called not to act in a play but to accomplish a particular set of tasks as a particular sort of person in your particular situation so as to advance God’s purposes in the real world as only you can.

Why didn’t God make you more splendid than you are? For the same reason that Jesus kept his glory under wraps: to be most effective in performing his assigned mission, to getting done what he in particular was to get done.

God equips us to succeed in the calling he gives us. This truth doesn’t mean that we can’t use resources God provides us to strengthen and beautify and otherwise improve ourselves and our circ*mstances. But we do so only if those efforts will help us achieve our mission better—not to avoid it for something we prefer.

These are hard truths. But one can lean on hard truths for firm support. And the best of these truths is that God’s assignment is only temporary and then there is home, home forever, in which we can finally relax and be totally our glorious selves.

I can hardly wait!

But for now, I’ve got to get back to work.

John Stackhouse teaches at Crandall University in Moncton, Canada. This article is adapted from his new book, Why You’re Here: Ethics for the Real World (Oxford).

Few events in the Philippines have been more anticipated than Pope Francis’s 2015 visit to the home of the world’s third-largest Catholic population. Six million people attended a parade on the final day of the pope’s trip, a meeting he decided to make following one of the strongest cyclones ever recorded. During mass with survivors of Typhoon Haiyan, Pope Francis declared, “I have come to tell you that Jesus is Lord. And he never lets us down.” Stirred by his homily, many were overcome with tears.

Pain is not an anomaly for Filipinos. Suffering punctuates centuries of Philippine colonial and contemporary history. But this affliction has not affected the religiosity of Filipino Catholics. Indeed, so inspired by his experience in the country, Pope Francis tweeted that “the Philippines is witness to the youth and vitality of the Church.” The Filipino translation of the tweet went viral and was retweeted more than 70,000 times.

Given that the state is secular, it is a mistake to say that the Philippines is a Catholic country. But with 80 percent of the population professing the faith, the impression remains the same anyway—especially given the fact that the country sits in a region dominated by Buddhism and Islam. From politics to education to fiestas, Catholicism pervades much of Philippine society. According to a recent survey, 77 percent of Filipino Catholic adults consider religion to be “very important” in their lives.

Despite missionary presence in China and Japan, Christianity has historically struggled to put down spiritual roots in Asia. So what makes it stick in the Philippines? Some credit belongs to the religious zeal of the Spanish regime. But by and large, the faith thrives today because Filipinos appropriated Catholicism to make it their own religion.

A colonial enterprise

When the Spaniards arrived in the Philippines in 1521, more than 100 ethnolinguistic groups already occupied the archipelago of more than 7,000 islands. While they did not exist as one country, the islands were nevertheless connected to each other via trade routes and slave-raiding that included other territories in the region. Trade, in fact, existed before the 10th century.

The islands also teemed with religious diversity. The Ifugao in northern Luzon, the Tagalog in southern Luzon, the Visayan in the central islands, and the various indigenous communities in Mindanao each had their own cosmology, code of ethics, and mode of worship. Muslim communities were also scattered around the islands, including Manila.

Locals first came into contact with Catholicism when Ferdinand Magellan and his crew showed up as part of the colonial race in the 16th century that competed for resources and the Christianization of unexplored territories. After meeting with Magellan, Rajah Humabon, the ruler of the island of Cebu, and his subjects embraced Christianity, though this may have been to avoid conflict with the conquistadors. But local resistance in nearby Mactan Island, headed by its ruler, Lapu-Lapu, led to the death of Magellan and his comrades.

Despite Magellan’s death, the Spanish sent other expeditions back to the Philippines. As the century wore on, expeditions became increasingly crucial for Spain. The crown believed that the Philippines would become a new and important source of revenue for the empire. It was Ruy Lopez de Villalobos’s trip in 1543 that named the islands Filipinas, in honor of Spanish King Philip II.

Spain’s close relationship with the Philippines was cemented after explorer Miguel Lopez de Legazpi discovered a route between the islands and Mexico, making trade between the two colonies—and the kingdom—possible. Legazpi set up a permanent Spanish outpost in Manila in 1571 and, after evicting its rulers and inhabitants, decided that the island would become the capital of the new colony. Legazpi built Manila in the style of a typical European town, with a plaza, cathedral, and public offices from which the entire archipelago was governed. Only Spaniards, however, could reside within the walled city. The natives—known like other indigenous communities in the New World as indios—had to resettle elsewhere.

As historian Samuel Tan notes, the goals of the Spanish regime in the Philippines could be summarized as: God, glory, and gold. Apart from expanding its trade, the evangelization of indios was a clear mission of the empire. Led by Father Urdaneta, Spanish Augustinian friars moved from Mexico to the Philippines upon the request of Philip II and became the first official Catholic missionaries in the country. The Dominicans, Recollects, Franciscans, and Jesuits followed suit over the centuries.

The Catholic fathers’ pattern of evangelization was standard. Under a policy known as reduccíon, the Spanish relocated natives from the mountains to the lowlands. Churches around the country were built through polos y servicios, a law which forced men between the ages of 16 to 60 years old to render labor for the local governor or the parish priest. The priests also became the de facto administrators of the Spanish regime in the towns in which they were assigned. This made them very powerful, even against local secular authorities. Given the small number of missionaries and administrators, the policy made governance and religious education efficient.

Although reduccíon was coercive, Catholic evangelization was not necessarily so. For example, mass baptisms were not practiced just because a datu (local leader) converted. Although some missionaries destroyed images (larawan), the majority relied on nonviolent persuasion to convince local converts to abandon their indigenous worship and practices.

The Jesuit historian John Schumacher claims “no whole people, at least prior to the 19th century, has ever in the history of the Church been so thoroughly evangelized as were the Filipinos.” The Christianization of the country was more than a change of heart of the people; the conversion included systematic lifestyle change. Friars made it a strict requirement for any native wanting to be baptized to have learned the tenets of Doctrina Cristiana, a document spelling out Catholic prayers, morality, and practices. Church leaders also taught catechisms—translated into vernacular languages—to young people. Friars ensured too that Christian teaching took over indigenous beliefs about restitution, sexual morality, and nature worship. Polygamy and slavery, for example, had to be renounced before baptism.

Catholicism’s influence affected everyday life and annual traditions. Church bells rang as a reminder for communities and families to recite the Angelus and other prayers. Mass attendance was also recorded every Sunday. In many cases, the Catholic pantheon of saints replaced local deities believed to be behind the agricultural cycle, though the holidays and festivals persisted—just under the banner of the patron saints. Consequently, by the 17th century, Catholicism had become the pervasive religion among lowland Filipinos, especially in Luzon and the Visayas.

Yet the Philippines’ Christianization was not a smooth process. Not all natives embraced the religion wholesale. In 1621, local leaders Bankaw and Tamblot led anti-Catholic uprisings on the islands of Leyte and Bohol. Over the centuries, Spanish forces also tried to penetrate some parts of Mindanao but resistance among Muslim communities relegated them to coastal areas. Muslim resistance involved what the Spaniards called juramentados, swordsmen who were ready to die for their cause. Many other indigenous communities in Mindanao—collectively called lumad (native)—retained their existing beliefs and practices.

Muslim communities in Mindanao never recognized the authority of the Spanish regime over their territories. In the local translation of the peace treaty signed in 1878 between Spain and the Sultanate of Sulu, the latter was only named a protectorate. But this provision did not keep Spain from including Sulu when the Philippines was handed over to the United States after its defeat in the Spanish-American War in 1899. This historical moment serves as a backdrop to secessionist movements, Moro insurgency, and the peace process in Mindanao.

Filipinizing Catholicism

Various documents of the Catholic church in the Philippines, including its local catechism, assume the Catholic faith is part and parcel of being Filipino. This idea obviously overlooks the presence of other religious minorities in the country, such as Islam, and the growing prominence of other Christian groups, like evangelicals and Iglesia ni Cristo (an indigenous church). But the assumption makes sociological sense for two reasons.

On one hand, Catholicism has become a cultural attribute, given the extent to which it affects everyday Filipino life. Over the centuries, Filipinos internalized Catholicism because church rituals related to their practical concerns. Indigenous religious practices were largely about livelihood, prosperity, healing, and safety. This understanding was very different from Christian theology that brought ethics and worship together. In this light, Catholic sacraments, beliefs, and objects interested indigenous Filipinos to the extent that they contributed to health and livelihood. Holy water, Latin prayers, and the intermediary role of saints fed into local beliefs.

This syncretisation became a significant factor in why Christianization did not completely eradicate indigenous practices. Even today, amulets with Latin prayers and other Catholic symbols are readily available outside Quiapo Church in Manila. The same church is home to the Black Nazarene, whose annual feast gathers millions of devotees every year in a procession around the old city of Manila. Towels that touch the image are believed to transmit miraculous powers of healing.

On the other hand, Catholicism has also become a religion that Filipinos use to empower themselves. This is a salient theme in much of Philippine historical writing. In his influential work, Pasyon and Revolution, historian Reynaldo Ileto makes the case that the natives drew from the Pasyon (or Passion) to understand their suffering at the hands of Spaniards. An epic narrative sung during Lent, the Pasyon recounts the suffering of Christ. During the Spanish period, clergy used this for religious socialization but natives received it in a different light. The suffering of Christ mirrored their own and empowered them in their struggle against the colonial regime.

One of the pitfalls of Spanish missionaries was a failure to train local clergy. Until the 20th century, movements calling for Filipino priests were often treated by the government with suspicion, as in the case of Cofradia de San Jose. The brotherhood of Filipino priests was set up by Hermano Pule, a local whose application to join an order was rejected in 1839. But the Spaniards eventually quashed the brotherhood, alleging it as heretical and rebellious.

During the American occupation in the first half of the 20th century, foreign clergy occupied the hierarchy of the Catholic church. While the church appointed Filipinos as parish priests, important positions like the archbishop of Manila were still held by non-Filipinos. After World War II, the Philippines became independent from the US, a political transition that increased the urgency of arguments to Filipinize religious orders. The reasoning was clear: Locals needed to take an active role in missionizing the country and the wider Asian region.

In 1957, six priests from different religious orders sent a memorial to the pope lamenting the inadequate number of trained Filipino clergy: “How can Catholic Philippines ever fulfill her providential mission in the Far East if the doors of the old religious orders and congregations do not really and sincerely open to admit and form native Filipino candidates?" The process was gradual, but by the 1970s, religious orders, schools, and the clergy in general became thoroughly Filipinized. It coincided with the martial law of President Ferdinand Marcos.

Indeed, in the latter half of the 20th century, the Catholic church played an important role as a public religion under Marcos's authoritarian regime. The president declared martial law in 1972 under the pretenses of countering an insurgency and the rise of Communists—justifications later found to be fabricated. Nevertheless, the Catholic hierarchy initially accepted the declaration, echoing the state mantra that “discipline was necessary for social progress.” But the situation grew only more severe: the police and military implemented a curfew and the government suspended the writ of habeas corpus, actions leading to various human rights abuses under the Marcos regime.

By the 1980s, parishes which had been organizing their respective communities to document and protest the excesses of military rule soon found themselves human rights abuse victims. Basic ecclesial communities in the countryside were harassed by the military and their religious leaders imprisoned. Some were even murdered. As the persecution carried on, the Catholic church was the only institution that could credibly contest the power of the state on behalf of the Filipino people. Religious leaders and lay people worked for the release of political detainees, operated alternative media, and preached against the military rule. In 1986, Cardinal Sin, the archbishop of Manila, made a radio broadcast calling on people to take to the streets to protest recent and allegedly fraudulent election results. The ensuing protest marked the beginning of the People Power Revolution that ultimately ended Ferdinand Marcos's long dictatorship.

A century of change?

What does the future hold for the Catholic church in the Philippines? While many religious scholars and pundits are convinced that Catholicism remains vibrant in the country, there are caveats to their optimism. Weekly church attendance among Catholic adults has fallen significantly from 64 percent in 1991 to 41 percent in 2017. This large drop in church attendance looks even grimmer when compared against other Christian groups. For instance, 7 in 10 Protestants and evangelicals attend church weekly. For Iglesia ni Cristo, weekly attendance among adults is 90 percent. While conversion to evangelicalism and Iglesia Ni Cristo has not been statistically remarkable, their media visibility is only growing and their political endorsem*nts increasingly sought.

To be sure, church attendance is not a definitive predictor when it comes to the future of religion. But these numbers are indicative of where the Catholic church stands in relation to religious instruction and come at a time when other studies have shown that parishioners are increasingly unhappy when their priests discuss politics. In the last decade, clergy argued against making artificial contraceptives freely accessible to the public. Despite vocal resistance from the clergy, nearly three-fourths of Filipinos favored the legislation, and the law was enacted in 2012. (The situation has likely grown more complex, given the recent tension between President Rodrigo Duterte and the Catholic hierarchy over the administration’s drug policy.)

In this sense, Roman Catholicism cannot rely on its past glory to carry itself forward. Religion involves piety, but that is just one part of it. When missionaries brought Catholicism to Filipinos, they radically altered their political, moral, and religious lives. Increasingly, however, Filipino Catholics are making a distinction between these different areas of life. The challenge, therefore, for the Catholic church—including its schools, parishes, and other institutions—is how to sustain religious influence.

The Filipino Catholic Church is at a crossroads. One solution may be taking the feedback of local theologians, like Rito Baring and Rebecca Cacho, who call for religious education through which “people are able to think critically and decide more wisely for themselves on issues affecting their lives.” Filipino Catholics are looking for a religious renewal that speaks to their daily realities. Will the church step up?

Jayeel Cornelio is a sociologist of religion at the Ateneo de Manila University and the Chinese University of Hong Kong. He is the author of Being Catholic in the Contemporary Philippines: Young People Reinterpreting Religion. He is also the guest editor of the special issue of Philippine Studies: Historical and Ethnographic Viewpoints dedicated to Filipino Catholicism. You can find him on Twitter @jayeel_cornelio.

When Samira Izadi Page arrived in Dallas nearly two decades ago, she experienced a generous Texas welcome from a local Baptist church that provided her Iranian family a fully furnished apartment.

That first impression changed her life—setting her on the path to finally convert to Christianity, seek ordination in the Episcopal Church, and dedicate her career and ministry to refugees.

“My life has always been about being a bridge between two cultures,” said Page, founder of Gateway of Grace, a nondenominational nonprofit that has connected more than 90 Dallas congregations with refugee families in the area. “It’s not about me; it’s about God’s work. I see myself as just a bridge, a steward of what God is already doing.”

Plenty has changed in North Texas since 1999, when Page and her ex-husband arrived with their two sons, having made their way to the United States via Turkey and Mexico. Back then, Page had glimpses of the God of the Bible—a childhood dream of Mary that she could never forget, plus the Christian values gleaned from classic literature she read growing up in Iran—but hadn’t yet come to understand the gospel preached in churches in her new home.

In her first years in Dallas, the area was already booming with ethnic diversity; the region’s immigrant population had grown by two and half times (146%) between 1990 and 2000, according to US Census data. During the 21st century, the foreign-born and refugee population has continued to climb and, at times, become a source of political tension.

“When they learn about refugees, their big, Texas-sized hearts show up to help.”

The year before President Donald Trump took office, Dallas-Fort Worth resettled more refugees than any other US metropolitan area, according to US State Department data reported by The Dallas Morning News. Well over a third of the area’s refugees were from countries targeted by Trump’s ban, mostly Iraq, Iran, and Syria.

Polls showed that white evangelicals were twice as likely as Americans on average to support the new restrictions, while holding more negative views of their Muslim neighbors than members of other faith groups.

Despite the national view among evangelicals, and even the voices of prominent locals like Robert Jeffress, pastor at Dallas’s First Baptist Church, Page continued to see the same spirit of generosity among the city’s believers as those who first welcomed her.

“We didn’t have these issues that were so polarizing, but the people haven’t changed,” she said. “When they learn about refugees, their big, Texas-sized hearts show up to help.”

The key is making the connection between the gospel and their outreach. Gateway of Grace doesn’t offer a template or a one-size-fits-all program for congregations. Instead, armed with an MDiv from Southern Methodist University as well as her own doctoral research on how to ease Christians’ anxieties about refugees, Page teaches from Scripture on how God compels believers to love, serve, and care for displaced people.

After all, it was Matthew 25 that spoke most deeply to her when she ultimately came to faith in Christ, compelled by a God who urges generosity and sees our everyday needs. When she read the Bible’s words, “Whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me” (Matt. 25:40), the former Shia Muslim encountered a Savior who “cares about the day-to-day struggles of the people and promises to bring healing, restoration, and dignity.”

Page couples Bible lessons with her own insights from growing up in Islamic culture and the Middle East. Sometimes she needs to remind people outright: Not all Muslims are terrorists or ISIS sympathizers, and refugees aren’t illegal immigrants; they’re here through sanctioned and vetted resettlement programs.

Ultimately, the city’s Christians—even in politically conservative, white congregations—connect with refugee families over common experiences big and small. Page has watched baby showers and Easter egg hunts and Thanksgiving dinners level cultural divides between Texas natives and Muslim refugees. But she’s also seen deeper connection forged, such as women from both faiths who open up about their experiences with domestic violence.

With God’s Spirit at work through the gospel, this kind of outreach, Page said, “can happen at churches anywhere, and it’s happening now in the center of the Bible Belt.”

World Relief, the National Association of Evangelicals’ humanitarian arm and a federal refugee resettlement agency, has observed similar openness among politically conservative Christians as Page has in Dallas.

According to Matthew Soerens, director of church mobilization, a bigger factor than living in a red state or blue state is whether or not a person knows refugees in their community. “If you’ve met a refugee—and that term evokes someone you know personally … —you’re unlikely to believe the rhetoric that refugees are a public safety threat,” he said.

Even with the slowed numbers of new refugees coming into the US, Dallas has enough to keep Gateway of Grace and Page’s hundreds of volunteers busy. In fact, the frustration over Trump’s policy actually drew attention to her ministry and has helped her connect with more churches and more refugees.

When I met Page for lunch at a busy café in Northwest Dallas in February, the 45-year-old bustled in wearing big, dark ringlet curls and a black capelet, coming straight from visiting a Muslim refugee in the emergency room. She tapped her phone with pointed, shimmering nails as it buzzed with updates about a new apartment complex they discovered that was filled with new arrivals in need of their services.

“What I love about Samira is that she leads with love and grace, meeting people just where they are to care for them,” said Brent McDougal, senior pastor of Cliff Temple Baptist Church, one of Gateway of Grace’s partner churches. “But as she develops relationships, it opens up conversations … where Jesus can be talked about.”

Gateway of Grace zeroes in on meeting practical needs rather than proselytizing but always makes it clear that Christian beliefs inspire their free services. Inevitably, the faith questions come up.

After one baby shower where a young refugee mom was presented with piles of brand-new gear, some of the once-hesitant Muslim attendees were impressed enough to say, “Give us your book,” wanting to know more about what their new Christian friends believed.

The constant curiosity led Page to launch a weekly Bible study and worship service. The Wednesday night gathering now draws around 70 attendees, both Christians from persecuted backgrounds and Muslims seeking to learn about Christ, and offers prayers in Arabic, Farsi, and English.

Buzzfeed credited her with helping Dallas become one of America’s most refugee-friendly cities, and she’s also been honored with local recognition and opportunities to teach and preach through the Episcopal Diocese of Dallas.

Gender has played a significant role in her Christian journey. Page sees a vast contrast between the notion of male rule she came to understand in a Muslim context and the biblical framing of wifely submission, since Christians teach that women and men are equal in dignity and equal heirs to the kingdom of God.

The more Page studied theology, starting with her master’s in 2010, the clearer she felt a call to ordained ministry, which ruled out traditions such as Roman Catholic or Southern Baptist. (Her husband is Baptist; the two met when he interviewed her on a local Christian radio station, KCBI.) In the Episcopal tradition and with Gateway of Grace, “God has given me a lot of favor with Christian leaders across denominations,” she said. “It has all been for his work.”

Her spiritual life looks so much different from her childhood, when she felt forced to study, pray, and fast to please God, only to be spun into cycles of guilt over her missteps. These days, Page trusts the Lord’s direction for her life and ministry, humbling seeing herself as a part of his bigger, ongoing work.

“No people on earth have moved from one place to another apart from God’s plans,” she said. “When we see the flux of refugees in our cities, we should be asking, ‘What is God up to? Do I want to be a part of God’s mission or not?’”

Her advice for Christians is straightforward: “If you are really concerned about the number of Muslims coming to America, love them. Share the gospel with them. Only Jesus can transform the hearts of Muslims.”

Anyone who knows me knows that I am rhythmically challenged. Whenever I lead a song on the guitar, people don’t know when to come in or when I will come in, and when there is a new stanza, anticipation brews— will he get it right? Nah, probably not. Every so often, I surprise others and myself. I’ve always been this way, and nothing earthly can change it. I don’t even try anymore. Perhaps my being rhythmically challenged explains why I’ve been thinking about rhythms for a few years.

Rhythms are everywhere. Today I got out of Grand Central Station at 6:03 a.m. to head to morning prayer. On my two-block walk, I saw the same man unhitching his food stand from his SUV for a new day of work, greeted the same cashier at Starbucks who knew exactly what I wanted, and heard the same kind of blaring music in the background; today it was Justin Bieber’s “What Do You Mean?”—a catchy song, I have to admit.

As a minister, I see rhythms all over the place, such as in marriages. I see the initial joys of preparing for marriage, bliss on the wedding day, the inevitable first major conflict that may linger, reconciliation, and the cycle repeats. If the couple stays the course, they will realize that there are hidden rhythms in marriage as well. Love deepens, even after decades. Loving a person for 40 years might not sound exciting, but it is, and there is only one way to find out. These rhythms are reserved for and awarded to only those who walk down that path.

There are also rhythms in worship services and communities of faith; the best ones liturgically lead people through the story of redemption repeatedly – invitation and celebration, confession, forgiveness of sins, listening, responding, and going or sending.

As a teacher, I see all kinds of rhythms in the classroom. When a student finds the pulse of the course, he or she begins to take off. Astute students can see patterns writ large and synchronize their lives to it: vocabulary and translation on Monday, grammar on Wednesday, a quiz on Friday, and the most difficult problems taken from obscure footnotes. Things become predictable. Teachers can also detect rhythms or, better yet, arrhythmias in students. Teachers may pull students aside and give them advice and even give their parents a call; arrhythmias are not only serious in medicine but also in education.

Biblical Rhythms

The Bible also has rhythms. If we examine the people who did great works for God, most of them underwent a similar pattern. God humbled them, taught them the important lesson of dependence, and exalted them in due time when their characters could accept praise with humility. God humbled Moses for 40 years in the wilderness, taught him the valuable lesson of dependence, and exalted him to challenge the king of Egypt.

God did the same with David. Everyone overlooked him. When Samuel came to the house of Jessie to anoint a king, David was not even present; no one thought he could be king, not his father, not his brothers, and no, not even the most discerning prophet in the land, Samuel. When David came to the court of Saul, further humbling took place to the point he became a fugitive. There in the caves, abandoned and rejected, he learned to depend on God. Eventually, he became the king of Israel. Examples can be multiplied, even in minor leaders like Gideon; God chose him because he was from the feeblest clan and the weakest family (Judges 6:15), and when God finally called him to deliver his people, he reduced his army from 32,000 men to 300: humility, dependence, exaltation, repeat.

I don’t want to belabor this point unduly, but we can see this rhythm in the life of Jesus as well. Paul says that Jesus humbled himself; the pre-incarnate Christ did not regard equality with God something to be grasped (Phil. 2:6–8). The gospels show his dependence on God in the wilderness when he says: “Man does not live on bread alone, but on every word that comes from the mouth of God” (Matt. 4:4). The resurrection shows victory, exaltation, and glory. There are many other patterns in the Bible, but these examples should suffice to show that rhythms exist in the spiritual realm.

Keeping Time

What does this all mean for us? First, God has a pattern for our own lives. Based on this observation, we can assess ourselves whether we are keeping in step with the Spirit. What are we doing? How do we spend our time, our money, our resources? What do we dream about? In other words, what are the beats in our lives?

By looking at our lives in broad strokes, we should be able to see whether our cadences are godly. The benefit of a broad overview is that we don’t have to exegete details; a snapshot is enough. The big picture usually does not deceive because we see leanings, tendencies, and habits. If we have not been a part of Christian community for years, then we do not prize fellowship. If we have not read the Bible in months, then we do not value Scripture. If we have not prayed in many seasons, we don’t really have a relationship with God. If we don’t give to the work of missions, then we don’t have a missional heart. If we incessantly think about getting ahead in the marketplace, then that, too, tells a story. A diagnostic analysis can teach us which way our hearts are leaning and what the rhythms of our lives are.

Second, by examining Scripture and studying the patterns of God, we can begin to see what God may be doing in our lives. Is God “bruising us” and teaching us the importance of humility? If so, then knowing that God typically works in people before he works through them will not only give great insight but also great encouragement. God is near in his love and working, not far and distant. Do we feel that we are in the wilderness? If so, this insight can be invaluable because the wilderness teaches essential lessons as well—trusting God for provisions, the need for endurance, and discerning God’s leading.

Let’s not forget that God walked with Israel and provided for them in the wilderness, and at times he even carried them. Even when God exalts us, knowing the patterns of Scripture helps because no one stays on top. In fact, there are dangers of being exalted, pride being the greatest. If we know this point, then we can guard our hearts and always take the lowest seat of honor in our exaltation, which is always a prudent decision, proof that we have learned well.

Third, if we are walking in step with God, then we can look around and see who else has a similar rhythm. I have come to realize that when we find these people, ministry gains considerable speed for the simple reason that we are now walking with others in fellowship. More pointedly, because we are walking in time with others, we don’t have to do anything new to walk with this person. The God of rhythms has brought rhythms together. An illustration at this point can be helpful.

It would not be easy for me to mentor a person. I am married, have children, have a job that requires a good number of hours, and a ministry of teaching, writing, and networking. I don’t have many hours left over. But I can mentor many people if God aligns rhythms. For example, if God calls a person to morning prayer, then I will see this person two times a week for one hour each time. If this same person happens to be a man, and he commits to my monthly men’s prayer meeting, then I will see him for an additional three hours once a month on Saturday morning. If this person also comes to the same Bible study on Monday evenings, then I will spend an additional two hours with this person. If this person attends the same church, then the hours multiply even more. Finally, if this person attends my dinners, events, and goes on missions with me, then I will see this person more than he or she would want to see me! God aligns people.

Church planting, kingdom-centered endeavors, and like projects do not have to be time-consuming if our rhythms are synchronized. Discerning what God is doing and has already done is one key to acceleration. If we believe that there is not one maverick molecule in the universe (thank you, R. C. Sproul for that alliteration), then is it surprising that God orchestrates the lives of people? We only need to look up and then look around to see. Looking upward keeps our focus on God, and looking around allows us to see what networks God has established for us.

The challenge to living this way is our pride. If God has set up everything, then we can’t take credit for it. Our fallen flesh does not like this part. However, far from being bad news; it is the only way to build. As the psalmist reminds us: “Unless the Lord builds the house, the builders labor in vain” (Ps. 127:1). I pray that we discern God’s patterns in our lives, get into good and godly rhythms, and find others with whom to walk. The outcome will be fellowship, friendship, and fruitfulness.

John Lee is the head of the Upper School at The Geneva School of Manhattan, a Christian classical school. His most recent book is Paradoxes of Leadership (Elevate, 2017).

You’ve heard the buzz: A Wrinkle in Time, based on the classic children’s book by Madeleine L’Engle (1918–2007), hits theaters this week as a 0 million Disney movie.

A lot more than money is riding on the film’s success. Not only is the sci-fi novel beloved by millions of readers—since winning the 1963 Newbery Medal, it has sold upwards of 16 million copies—but its author was one of the most adored writers of Christian faith in recent history.

As I’ve learned while writing her spiritual biography (A Light So Lovely: The Spiritual Legacy of Madeleine L’Engle, which releases in August), her fans among millennials and my own Generation X, in particular, are as vast as the cosmos she so loved. For many who struggle with faith and doubt, L’Engle has become a kind of patron saint for the wavering, the wondering, and the wounded.

No pressure, Hollywood.

This new adaptation of Wrinkle, directed by the irrepressible Ava DuVernay (Selma, 13th, Queen Sugar), stars no less than Oprah Winfrey, Reese Witherspoon, Mindy Kaling, and Chris Pine. Frozen’s Jennifer Lee adapted the storyline for the screen, and along the way the main characters have been creatively recast as a multiracial family. DuVernay herself is the first female director of color to oversee a budget this size.

Newcomer Storm Reid plays Meg Murry, the story’s teen protagonist, who is sent by a triad of angelic beings (Mrs. Whatsit, Mrs. Who, and Mrs. Which) on a quest to find her missing scientist-father trapped behind a dark force in the universe. The “Mrs” trio teaches Meg and her companions how to fold, or wrinkle, the space-time continuum so they can skip from galaxy to galaxy, planet to planet—a concept called tessering.

“I think you have to prepare yourself that the movie will look different than the book,” producer Catherine Hand told me. “I hope people who love the book don’t just focus on the trees and not see the forest.” Hand first sat down with L’Engle in 1979 to discuss bringing the story to the big screen and now, nearly 40 years later, is seeing her dream become reality. “The movie is going to look different because it had to look different,” Hand explained. “Too many filmmakers, writers, directors, all sorts of creative talent have been influenced by Wrinkle for 50 years. Some of the visuals that we hold dear in Wrinkle we’ve already seen on film. We had to take the essence of the emotional story—e.g., why did this happen in the book?—and explore how to give it a new look but with the same meaning.”

The question many are wondering is whether the “essence” and “meaning” will include the spiritual themes that were vital to L’Engle’s Christian faith.

Asking ‘Cosmic Questions’

During the 1950s, as a 30-something transplant from New York City to rural Connecticut, L’Engle struggled to balance writing, child-rearing, and small-town life. She also wrestled with what she called “cosmic questions”: Does God exist? Why are we here? Do we exist after death? Well-meaning pastors encouraged her to read German theologians (she rarely ever named which ones, exactly, although philosopher Immanuel Kant is a strong contender). But she found no solace there. Such theology, for L’Engle, emphasized a limited God definable by human categories, a concept wholly at odds with the awe-inspiring, star-strewn universe she saw at night while walking her dogs.

By contrast, it was the wonder and humility of scientists, especially theoretical physicists like Max Planck and Albert Einstein, who eventually convinced her to become a Christian. If the Creator of a vast and surprising cosmos could love this small planet enough to become one of us, then—despite her ongoing questions—that was a faith worth clinging to. As L’Engle said in a 1979 interview with Christianity Today, “I believe that we can understand cosmic questions only through particulars. I can understand God only through one specific particular, the incarnation of Jesus of Nazareth.”

Thus, “A Wrinkle in Time was my rebuttal to the German theologians,” L’Engle wrote in Walking on Water: Reflections on Faith and Art (1980). Her protagonist—angry, nerdy Meg Murry, in many ways a portrait of L’Engle herself as a girl—is unwilling and unable to conform to cultural expectations, to the usual categories by which we define human worth. By the end of her story, Meg must confront the source of the darkness that’s at war with the light: a pulsing, disembodied brain that threatens to absorb everything into the pattern of itself. Its goal is to annihilate the created particularity of each unique thing, down to the smallest particle.

For anyone who’s ever fallen asleep reading German theology (raises hand), this is a stirring concept. If faith can be reduced to an intellectual exercise, to mere agreement with certain principles and precepts, then all you have left is knowledge without agency, without mercy or compassion. All you have is a disembodied mind, out there in the universe, coldly detached from human suffering. And a thing without a body could never, ever love you the way God in Christ does.

Translating a ‘Core Story’

One could argue that Wrinkle is a “core story” in American literature: one of those seminal classics that takes on the status of myth. Myth’s essential nature is to articulate truths about the human experience that are universal, that are beyond mere human invention, pointing to a pattern of meaning that undergirds our existence. For literary-minded Christians like C. S. Lewis (The Chronicles of Narnia), myths offer partial glimpses of a foundational Story written by the Author of all authors, a Story that became historical fact in Jesus. Myths may not be about what literally happened, but they are most certainly about what happens: birth, joy, passion, longing, loss, death, redemption.

Meg’s journey to fight not only the darkness “out there” but to fight it within herself is one such story. Indeed, I would argue that Wrinkle qualifies as “mythopoeic”: a term Lewis and his friend J. R. R. Tolkien (The Lord of the Rings) used to describe a created thing that is somehow more than itself, whose spiritual and theological underpinnings are able to transcend the original storyteller and context.

Lisa Ann co*ckrel, director of Calvin College’s Festival of Faith and Writing, was a college student when she saw Wrinkle performed as a stage play at the Lifeline Theatre on Chicago’s North Side. “It was my first really powerful, personal engagement with Madeleine’s work,” she said. “I can’t even describe it to you, the stagecraft of how they managed to pull off a tesser. It was magic, magic, from what I can tell.” Just one example of how the truly mythopoeic can transcend even the medium by which it comes to us, whether children’s book, stage performance, opera, graphic novel, or, one hopes, a blockbuster movie.

During a Q&A at the 1996 writing festival, L’Engle was asked about a possible film version of Wrinkle. She claimed she had told Catherine Hand, “I can’t sign the average Hollywood contract because I cannot sign that clause giving the producer freedom to change character and theme.” L’Engle explained that she eventually got the clause reversed, but the contract also included language granting the producers the rights to the movie “in perpetuity throughout the universe.” So, she said, she took a red pen and made an asterisk, noting, “With the exception of Sagittarius and the Andromeda Galaxy.” As the festival audience erupted in laughter, L’Engle joked, “They had a serious meeting of their lawyers before they would accept this, in case I knew something they didn’t know.”

Then, in a more earnest tone, she continued: “I would like it to be made into a movie, but a good movie, not a bad one. I believe my books, and so I can’t sign that clause. And I’d rather not have them done than have them come out and say something I’m not saying, which is very easy in the world of Hollywood.”

Only after various fits and starts, a low-budget, made-for-TV movie finally aired in 2004 that was panned by reviewers for its clunky special effects and slow pace. It also notably left out both a key biblical text (John 1:5) and a direct reference to Jesus that together distill a vital spiritual theme in the book: the source of the light by which the darkness is overcome is not we ourselves—though we’re invited to join it. Yes, Jesus told his followers “you are the light of the world” (Matt. 5:14), but only because they participate in the light of Christ that “shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it” (John 1:5). (For the record, this particular viewer wept openly when Mrs. Whatsit, before taking leave of the Murrys in the final scene, told Meg, “Well done.” Three out of five stars.) But anyone who loves the book was left wanting more.

Despite ongoing obstacles, Hand didn’t give up her quest to bring the film to the silver screen. It’s a big story, after all—galaxy-jumping is no trifle and deserves big effects. But its themes are also, as Hand is well aware, cosmic. “My curiosity about a spiritual life absolutely was one of the driving forces behind why I did what I did for 30 years,” she told me. “When I was a young girl, my mother said, I used to wake her up in the morning around five to make sure we weren’t late for church. So there must’ve been something in me that was always drawn to faith.” She went on to say, “I think I had an understanding of what God was from a 10-year-old point of view, which deepened when I got to know Madeleine, who expanded my views.”

The two developed a friendship over the decades, one that Hand treasures. “There is no one on this planet that loves A Wrinkle in Time more than I,” she said. “However, we had to make a movie of the book, which meant we had to rethink the story. Jennifer Lee, Ava DuVernay, the creative team at Disney, and Jim Whitaker, the other producer, were essential in finding a fresh approach to the material. We all loved the themes, the characters—the essence of the story. And I hope audiences will agree that we stayed true to that essence.”

Entertaining Possibilities

Of course, insert Oprah into any story, and it will mean whatever Oprah wants it to mean. But does it retain its mythopoeic nature as a story with theological underpinnings? And does that matter?

“When it was announced that Ava DuVernay was going to do the adaptation, I was so excited,” YA author Sara Zarr told me, “because I felt that Selma [DuVernay’s film about the 1965 civil rights march from Selma to Montgomery, Alabama] had a really strong directorial point of view. And that’s what you need when you’re taking on a story that’s so well known. Because if you don’t have your own strong point of view and confidence in executing it, you’re going to try to make it into something that everyone will like or approve of, maybe in a tepid way, and no one will criticize.”

Zarr’s own Story of a Girl was made into a television movie starring Kevin Bacon and Ryann Shane, and the process of watching her own book become film was a fascinating one. “When I’m writing a book,” she said, “I may or may not have an idea in my head of what a character looks like, and I may or may not do a decent job of describing that.” Then the reader gets a hold of the book, and “they’re recreating the image in their head, and it’s going to come together differently than in someone else’s head. So when we’re reading a novel, we’re recreating a story.” When it comes to a film adaptation, “we have to go in realizing not every single person in the world sees or experiences things in the same way we do. And I think that’s really cool.”

Film critic and novelist Jeffrey Overstreet (Auralia’s Colors) agrees: “I hope that there’s still that sense of expansiveness in all the story means,” he told me. “Anytime you adapt a story like this from one medium to another, from one translation to another, you’re going to end up entertaining possibilities that were just suggested in the original and thus also inevitably minimizing things that are emphasized in the original. That’s just the nature of adaptation. It’s sort of like an illustrated manuscript among many illustrated versions of the same thing.”

Zarr added, “If an adaptation is not how they imagined it, fans can feel it’s a defilement of the original thing. But the original thing will always still exist.” And it’s not going away anytime soon: As of this writing, L’Engle’s book is sitting at number one on Amazon’s current bestsellers list.

“Madeleine would want us to go to the movie with an open mind and a willing heart,” Hand told me, “because that’s how she saw the universe.”

It remains to be seen whether the film will qualify as mythopoeic, theologically speaking. It may not address all our “cosmic questions.” But it can still be darn good fun.

Sarah Arthur is the author of a dozen books about the intersection of faith and literature, including the forthcoming A Light So Lovely: The Spiritual Legacy of Madeleine L’Engle (Zondervan).

Few times in the year present more pressure and stress for pastors than the week before Easter. The demands feel so overwhelming that we often lose our own center in Jesus during our celebration of the most important moment in history. So allow me to offer to you, in a few words, three reminders that may help you relax in Jesus as Easter approaches.

1. Do the Will of Jesus

Success is first and foremost doing what God has asked us to do, doing it his way, and in his timing.

Years ago, when I was first wrestling with redefining success, I imagined what it might be like to come before God’s throne at the end of my earthly life and say, “Here, God, is what I have done for you. We had 500 new people on Good Friday and Easter!” Then he would respond, “Pete, I love you, but that was not what I gave you to do. I didn’t ask you to neglect your family for the last three weeks and push your volunteers beyond their limits.”

Think with me for a moment about some of God’s faithful and, hence, most successful leaders:

• Jesus said of John the Baptist, “Among those born of women there is no one greater than John” (Luke 7:28). Yet, if we were to create a bar chart on the size of John’s ministry over time, it would demonstrate a peak followed by a steady and precipitous decline.
• The prophets Jeremiah and Isaiah both served God with passion and obedience, but they were mostly written off by an unresponsive remnant—definitely not what anyone likely considered success.
• Jesus didn’t wring his hands and question his preaching strategy when “many of his disciples turned back and no longer followed him” (John 6:66). He remained content, knowing he was in the Father’s will. He had a larger perspective of what God was doing.

It’s hard to see how any of the names on this list would be considered successful in most leadership circles today. Yet the Bible makes it clear that God approved of their ministries. We may well be growing our ministries but nevertheless failing.

Success is first and foremost doing what God has asked us to do, doing it his way, and in his timing.

Embracing God’s definition of success for New Life Church over the years was initially difficult for me to accept. It slowed me down, and I suddenly felt like I didn’t look as good as the leaders of other more successful ministries to which I compared myself.

It meant that New Life had one objective: to become what God had called us to become, and to do what God had called us to do—regardless of where any of that might lead us. It meant that all the previous markers—increased attendance, bigger and better programs, a larger budget—had to take a backseat to this one.

I encourage you to pause and reflect for a moment. What might change in your context if you were to define success this Easter season not by the numbers but as radically doing God’s will? What external markers might become less important? What internal markers might become more important?

What fears or anxieties are you aware of as you even consider such questions?

Believe me, I understand how disorienting these questions might be. But I also know how freeing it is to live and lead from the center of God’s definition of success.

2. Stay in Loving Union with Jesus

It is possible to build a great Easter experience for our people, relying only on our gifts, talents, and experience. We can serve Christ in our own energy and wisdom. We can expand the ministry without thinking much of Jesus or relying on him in the process. We can preach truths we don’t live.

I was in my early years as a Christian when I first came to grips with the sad truth that God appeared to use prominent Christian leaders whose relationship with Jesus was either nonexistent or seriously under-developed. It was a discovery that left me confused and disoriented. Yet, after decades in ministry, I am no longer so confused. Why? Because I have experienced to some degree what it’s like to be one of those leaders. I have prepared and preached sermons without thinking about or spending time with Jesus. I know the experience of doing good things that helped a lot of people while being too busy or caught up in my own whirlwind of leadership worries to be intimately connected to Jesus.

Consider the following quick check-up to diagnose how your experience of loving union with Jesus is going:

You know you’re not experiencing loving union when you …

1. … can’t shake the pressure you feel from having too much to do in too little time.
2. … are always rushing.
3. … routinely fire off quick opinions and judgments.
4. … are often fearful about the future.
5. … are overly concerned with what others think.
6. … are defensive and easily offended.
7. … are routinely preoccupied and distracted.
8. … consistently ignore the stress, anxiety, and tightness of your body.
9. … feel unenthusiastic or threatened by the success of others.
10. … regularly spend more time talking than listening.

Jesus faced overwhelming pressures in his life—pressures that far outstrip anything most of us will ever face. Yet he routinely stepped away from those endless leadership demands to spend significant time with the Father. He slowed down to ensure he was in sync with God. By routinely stepping away from his active work, he entrusted the outcome of his circ*mstances, problems, and ministry to the Father. And as a result, every action Jesus took was rooted in a place of deep rest and centeredness out of his relationship with God.

A question each of us must wrestle with on a regular basis is this: In what ways does my current pace of life and leadership enhance or diminish my ability to allow God’s will and presence full scope in my life?

3. Keep Your Work in Perspective

Jesus has a little work for you to do. Your work for God is important to him. But it is small. Consider the complexity of the work God is doing in millions of lives around the world. Consider his innumerable works since the beginning of human history. Imagine yourself looking back at your “to do” list for Holy Week after seeing Jesus face to face. Is everything on that list really so important?

Jesus is building his church—not you. He said, I will build my church, and the gates of hell will not overcome it (Matt. 16:18). He is the exclusive church builder. This work we do belongs entirely to him. And God alone has the power to grant someone a revelation of Jesus (see Matt. 16:17). We sure cannot. This is immensely hopeful and immensely humbling.

For the past few weeks, before I go to bed, I have been pondering the last paragraph in the final book in C. S. Lewis’ Chronicles of Narnia, The Last Battle. It has helped me surrender my “little” earthly work to God and keep a healthy perspective around my unfinished plans and work. Aslan (representing Jesus) explains to the children what their earthly journey meant. Lewis writes,

He no longer looked to them like a lion; but the things that began to happen after that were so great and beautiful that I cannot write them. … But for them it was only the beginning of the real story. All their life in this world and all their adventures in Narnia had only been the cover and the title page: now at last they were beginning Chapter One of the Great Story, which no one on earth has read; which goes on forever; in which every chapter is better than the one before.

When I remember that my short earthly life is only the “cover and the title page” and “Chapter One” will begin when I see him, my body relaxes. My cup overflows with thankfulness. And I join with Julian of Norwich in affirming, “All shall be well, and all manner of thing shall be well.”

Pete Scazzero is the founder of New Life Fellowship Church in Queens, New York City, a large, multiracial church with more than seventy-three countries represented. Pete is also the author of The Emotionally Healthy Discipleship Courses, a discipleship model transforming churches around the world. Follow him @petescazzero.