The lure of Christ’s gracious presence invites us onto a wandering path of discipleship that leads into forgotten places—the margins of highways and the wilderness of slums. As the title of Ernst Käsemann’s landmark book on Hebrews puts it, we become The Wandering People of God. We are nomads who set up our tents where others don’t want to live. We wander into relationships where we share burdens and hope to encounter the living presence of Jesus among the disfigured, disordered and disheveled. “Can we see Jesus?” The answer depends on where we go and with whom we await Christ’s presence.

I slip in bed when you’re asleep
To hold you close and feel your breath on me
Tomorrow there’ll be so much to do
So tonight I’ll drift in a dream with you

Dixie Chicks, Lullaby

Isaac wrote a while back about looking for “a soundtrack for our lives.” Today I heard the Dixie Chick’s song above and knew after the first stanza that I’d be adding it to my life soundtrack. It captured perfectly this morning—a morning I want to remember. I drifted out of sleep just enough to realize how comfortable I was. The dawn was cool enough that our grandma bedspread (you know, white with cottage-cheese-feeling patterns all over it and tassled edges) was keeping me just warm enough. I sunk a little deeper into the mattress and fell back asleep reveling in the warmth of my wife using my shoulder for a pillow and the peace of nothing to worry about for the next four days. Meanwhile, Toby, our dog, sighed—a bit miffed perhaps that he’d be waiting a bit longer for breakfast.

As good as the waking hours are I often find sleep just as enjoyable. It hasn’t always been this way. As a kid I went through a period (when I moved my room down into the basement) of being terrified of going to sleep. In college I just saw it as an intrusion on the important business of the day. After September 11th sleep was fretful, depressing, and fear-filled. Not to mention the many nights in the last few years where anxiety woke me up well before dawn. So now when a morning comes along where I feel in my bones, fingertips, and breath that, in the words of Julian of Norwich, “all shall be well, and all shall be well, and all manner of thing shall be well” I’m thankful. And when a song comes along that same day that recalls and vivifies the moment, all the better.

“A text is not a text unless it hides from the first comer, from the first glance, the law of its composition and the rules of its game. A text remains, moreover, forever imperceptible…. There is always a surprise in store for the anatomy or physiology of any criticism that might think it had mastered the game, surveyed all the threads at once, deluding itself, too, in wanting to look at the text without touching it, without laying a hand on the ‘object,’ without risking—which is the only chance of entering the game, by getting a few fingers caught—the addition of some new thread” (Dissemination p.63).

A text hides and reveals. It reveals through hiding, by playing with our perception, inviting us into a game—a way of reading that risks getting caught up in the text, feeling the way the text opens up the more we play, the more we jump in, the more we risk. The text is alive, it breathes, it hides, it invites, it surprises. Or, as the writer of Hebews say, our holy text “is living and active” (Heb. 4:12f). It isn’t static. Can’t be mastered. Doesn’t stay still long enough for a reader to claim exhaustive meaning. The Word doesn’t exhaust—it offers perpetual satisfaction, always more to find, more words, more silences, more edges, more divine hiddenness to get our fingers caught in. As Derrida says, the text (and can I include our holy text?) is not an object that we can look at without touching, without getting stuck in it, and maybe getting stuck with a knife, a “double-edged sword” as Hebrews puts it.

But there’s something even more intriguing to me than just their addictive sound. The album that I purchased is a remake of the music of Hildegard von Bingen. Hildegard was an amazing woman: theologian, educator, founder of a convent, and the first musician for whom we have a biography; all this 9 centuries ago! Garmarna keeps the original latin lyrics and melodies of Hildergard’s songs, but adds its own unique style and sound. So, from a group that doesn’t have any specifically Christian beliefs, comes this amazing sounding album that ranges in topic from faithful devotion to Christ to the Virgin Mary to the Lord have mercy prayer.

Some have claimed that Hildergard’s music has been hijacked by the New Age movement (though, to be fair, he doesn’t specifically mention Garmarna as one of the New Age bands). However, in Garmarna I don’t hear a group that’s abused the music of Hildergard or wrenched it from its original intent. Instead, I hear a group that’s captured in a fresh and deep way some of the contemplative and mystical truths of the Christian faith that the medieval period often captured so well, but which we have tended to disregard as relics of the “dark ages.” I do recognize that Garmarna is likely not playing them with the same intent Hildergard had of worship and/or liturgy. Nonetheless, their music is good, true, and beautiful and that it makes it a manifestation of the Kingdom of God.

Mothers wail and writhe as they face the beasts of death—the beasts that feast on human flesh in an orgy of violence, that swallow the hope of new life as they tear apart bodies. Powers from the dark bowels of hell unleash their terror on God’s people. At the command of King Herod they drink deep the blood of children, the children of Israel. The unthinkable becomes reality. Worst nightmares come true. The skies holding back the chaotic darkness crash down upon God’s creation, upon his covenanted people—his beloved bride murdered before his eyes. “A voice was heard in Ramah, wailing and loud lamentation, Rachel weeping for her children; she refused to be consoled, because they are no more.” Bethlehem’s children are no more. Darkness settles over the land. This is the “time of King Herod.”

Will God remain silent as he hears the cry of innocent blood? Will God turn a deaf ear to Rachel’s screams? No. But do we have ears to hear God’s answer, God’s Word?

“In the time of Herod,” as the prince of darkness hovers over the land, after all hope is devoured, “the people who sat in darkness” see a “great light, and for those who sat in the region and shadow of death light has dawned” (Matt. 4:16). The powers of darkness lash out as they see the sun breaking through on the horizon. They realize the dawn of this new age will end the old age during which they freely roam the land, striking out in terror. King Herod knows the arrival of the king of the Jews threatens his dominion over the people. The travelers from the East come seeking “the child who has been born king of the Jews” and Herod, the incarnation of worldly power, whose word wields the sword of death, shudders. It is this lowly Messiah who appears without majesty that shakes the foundation of Empire. It is this human child that “startles many nations” (Isa.52:12). From Herod’s position of power, the good news of the kingdom of the Messiah is terrifying. When the reign of the Messiah begins Herod knows that the power of the earthly ruler is relativized (“Give unto Caesar the things that are Caesar’s, and to God the things that are God’s”). A new Kingdom is at hand and it renders suspect the empire’s economic and political grip. Citizenship in this new Kingdom makes earthly authority arbitrary (“Seek first the Kingdom of God”). Caesar and Herod can no longer claim the lives of the people; they no longer hold the people in bondage. As Herod discerns the “bad news” of the present time, he must act to save his dominion over the people. He knows he must snuff out the embers of the Messiah’s coming kingdom before it spreads like wild fire across the land. For this reason King Herod trembles. For this reason he must kill all the children in Bethlehem. For this reason Herod cannot follow the lead of the wise men from the East and bow down to Israel’s Messiah.

But as the shadow of death, the shadow of the powers of darkness, make their last stand against the hope of the world, God’s Word becomes flesh. The answer to Rachael’s cries is Emmanuel—”God with us”—who fights the demonic beasts in the desert and comes out proclaiming “The kingdom of heaven has come near.” God’s light shines in the darkness and Herod’s worst fears come true—his mighty arm of death cannot overcome it. Through the nightmares of Bethlehem’s mothers shines the light of a reoccurring dream—a dream that awakes the sleeper with tears of hope. The Messiah’s Kingdom is the daydream that gives hope to those who struggle under Empire’s boot. For Israel under foreign dominion, the Messiah is the answer to their years of “wailing and loud lamentation.” It is the weak who pray along with Pope John Paul II, “O Holy Night, so long awaited, which has united God and man for ever! You rekindle our hope. You fill us with ecstatic wonder. You assure us of the triumph of love over hatred, of life over death.”

Have we squelched the burning hope for something better—that spark of hope that cries out from the depths of our being—with the entrancing water of worldly realism that says we must give up on our imagination and seek to make the best of what the system has to offer? The gospel pleads with us, don’t let the world kill your Kingdom imagination—don’t give up hope in the Kingdom of God. Don’t doubt the revolution that Jesus Christ started and sustains in his Church.

if you know any more interesting intentional christian communities, please add them to the list.

Now consider Pablo and Chris. Two months ago they rode a Greyhound bus to Durham down from Chicago. They weren’t able to make it in Chicago due to the high cost of living and a poor job market. They heard it cost less to live in Durham and that the job market was better so they decided to give it a shot. After two months, nothing. They are staying on our futon in the study for the next week before they make the 27 hour greyhound trip back to Chicago.

“People who have lost work should have hope,” Bush said, “the economy is growning, new jobs are being created.” Well, who exactly is creating these jobs? Bush spoke about this incorporeal hope at a technical college over in Winston-Salem where the people are feeling severe effects of the declining textile market (FYI: Did you know Winston-Salem is the birthplace of Krispy Kreme Dounuts?). In August Pillowtex, a major textile corporation, shut down leaving 5,500 North Carolina residents without jobs. To these people Bush says, “The economy is growing, new jobs are being created.” John Emrich, chief executive of Guilford Mills, replies, “It is very frustrating to be ignored.”

Later in the same article, i stumbled across a disturbing revelation: “Bush’s message likely didn’t win over some 300 activists who gathered a few blocks from the Benton Convention Center, where the president was expected to raise $1.1 million for his re-election campaign.” This is so offensive. Bush offers nothing tangible to the plight of the unemployed then turns around and takes a million dollars from NC for his election campaign. Is his election campaign more important than putting that million dollars to work in a desparate state?

You may be saying to yourself, “Isaac, that is just the way the electoral system works. Candidates need money to run.” Well maybe there is something wrong with the system then. The church should commission some of its members who know the system (politicians, lawyers, etc.) to use their gifts for justice. How can we participate in an presidential electoral process that forces candidates to spend so much money to win our vote? The King to whom we Christians pledge our allegiance at baptism and remember at the eucharist calls us to care for the poor not support the use of money poured into someone’s quest for power. As Christians we must be faithful to the leadership of our King by serving as priests and servants in his Kingdom (Rev. 1:6). When our King tells us to use our talents for the kingdom we better reconsider what we are supporting with our vote.

Maybe we North American Christians should listen a little more to the voice of James:

Now listen, you rich people, weep and wail because of the misery that is coming upon you. Your wealth has rotted, and moths have eaten your clothes. Your gold and silver are corroded. Their corrosion will testify against you and eat your flesh like fire. You have horded wealth in the last days. Look! the wages you failed to pay the workmen who mowed your fields are crying out against you. The cries of the harvesters have reached the ears of the Lord Almighty. You have lived on earth in luxury and self-indulgence. You fattened yourself in the day of slaughter. (5:1-5)

Those words sting. The North American church is extremely wealthy when compared to the global church. We must examine our use of worldly riches for selfish, earthly gain. But the point is not for guilt to overwhelm us to the point of dehibilitation. We must not wallow in our shameful riches. Paul instucts Timothy on how to deal with the rich in the church. His exhortation applies as much to our church as it did to theirs:

Command those who are rich in this present world not to be arrogant nor to put their hope in wealth, which is so uncertain, but to put their hope in God, who richly provides us with everything for our enjoyment. Command them to do good, to be rich in good deeds, and to be generous and willing to share. In this way they will lay up treasure for themselves as a firm foundation for the coming age, so that they may take hold of the life that is truly life.

Paul commands us to share with those who don’t have much. Apparently our brother president Bush is wasting his time feasting with the rich folk at lunch when he should be going around to the North Carolina churches exhorting them to share their wealth with those who are losing their jobs. Jesus is not a fan of investing in the way people of the world exercise power (Matt. 20:25-28). We should call Bush to use his power for heavenly good not for corrosion that will “eat [our] flesh like fire.” Let us start to “take hold of the life that is truly life” by using our wealth for the only thing it is good for, generously sharing. And we should reconsider our support of an electoral system where so much money is wasted on buying votes.

Ever wonder why the disciples seem so dense? Why it took so many miracles, so many failures, and why Jesus had to tell them ten times over that his mission lay at the cross? I think part of it is that hanging out with God is befuddling. I imagine that the disciples spent some nights awake watching Jesus sleep, wondering how this guy with a 5 o’clock shadow and doing something so ordinary as sleeping could be the same guy who had raised young Jairus’ daughter back to life just a short while earlier.

And from the viewpoint of the resurrection we see that it is not only unexpected and scandalous for God to become incarnate in a single person in history, but also an act of gracious love to enter our world, share in our sufferings, and conquer our enemies.

Joan of Arcadia also raises some questions that are worth pondering. Why are shows like these at least mildly popular ( Touched by an Angel and 7th Heaven are similar)? Or, as Joan’s mom asks one befuddled priest: “What is God doing right now? What is he thinking? Is God bored? Run out of ideas? God’s a father right? Then why doesn’t God do something about his children that are suffering [referring to her parapalegic son]?” The priest doesn’t quite know what to say, other than “I’ll pray for you,” and when we start to actually start answering those questions ourselves their difficulty becomes evident.

To the question of evil Christians respond that Jesus bore our suffering and sins. However, while that means our sin has been paid for and we don’t have to bear our suffering alone it doesn’t negate the fact that we still must bear it. Perhaps some suffering must be borne if we are to mature and be refined, but all of it?

The incarnation also raises the problem of particularity. Why did God show up at the certain time and place that God did? Why did God come only once, and stay for such a short amount of time and remain in such a relatively small area? As one columnist puts it:

We are living here on a planet in shambles, terrorists running murderously amok, the Mideast on the verge of exploding, humanity plagued by hateful prejudices that go back centuries, poverty and depravity rampant, and when God decides to intervene, it’s to straighten out a few troubled folks in a small town and solve a murder case? It’s just too ridiculous.

Even if this show raises eyebrows with comments like “I came off a bit harsh in the Old Testament, but am nicer in the New Testament and Koran” (I’m not sure Jews would be too keen on that statement), it reminds us that spirituality is not a dead topic. The question of how a person can find meaning in a crazy and hurting world is alive and well. And while religion might be spurned as an answer (Joan reminds God that she is “not a religious person”), questions about God and the desire to be known by that God remain alive and well.

To be honest, I am not too intent on trying to figure out how I can assign “home” to a certain geographic location. Don’t get me wrong! My Colombian and Costa Rican roots are very important to me. I love to hear stories about my parents and grandparents and their coming to the United States. Those stories and those cultures shape who I am today. My years in LA, Tucson, and Santa Barbara also have played a big part in forming my identity. I have learned so much from my relationships with those people in those cities; I am indebted to them.

So why am I not too concerned about what city or country to call “home”? Because, I have located myself in God’s Kingdom – that is the place where I find my true identity. The Church, the place where Christians are enabled by the Spirit of God to make the Kingdom of God known, is my family. Every Sunday I pledge my allegiance to the Kingdom of God when I stand up and walk down the aisle and take the Eucharist. I say along with Paul, “Our citizenship is in heaven. And we eagerly await a Savior from there, the Lord Jesus Christ” (Philippians 3:20).

My particular nationality, culture, family, are all very important to me, they make me me. But they are subservient to my primary allegiance to Christ and his Kingdom. In fact, I believe that I can only experience the goodness of all my particularity (nationality, culture, family, etc.) when I understand that stuff in proper relation to Christ the King (Hebrews. 2:8). If I don’t understand God as the Creator and Lord of all of me and the rest of His creation, then I will not be able to fully experience all the goodness God intends for me.

As well as the beauty of this place I’ve also seen God’s Kingdom at work here at the house where we are staying. The husband of the family had a bad stroke about a year ago, and has since been trying to recover the basics of life: walking, speech (connecting thoughts to words is very difficult for him), eating, etc. Today I got to see him walk without his cane for only the second time since the stroke. It’s a reminder of our frailty and God’s grace to see a grown man learning to walk again.

He’s not a Christian, but I’m convinced it is God’s doing. From where else could such good come? We may be tempted to chalk it up to the power of the human spirit or the marvels of modern medicine, but those are means of the grace not its source. Graces of strength and ingenuity bring about good despite sin’s powerful ability to twist and use for ill anything it can (and those things have certainly been instruments of evil many times over). But here they are used for the tremendous good of life and healing. It is out of a conviction that God holds the world together and continues to shed “common grace” on all humanity out of the love God has for his creation that we can affirm the Kingdom is at work in this situation. And hopefully, this man will someday have his joy made complete by coming to know this healing and merciful God.