- Details
- Written by: Don Goulding
Then the Lord God commanded the man, “You may freely eat fruit from every tree of the orchard, but you must not eat from the tree of the knowledge of good and evil, for when you eat from it you will surely die.” (Genesis 2:16, 17)
There’s a tree in the center of my garden. All around the tree, the garden provides abundant life. But of the tree, I may not partake.
My tree has a name. I don’t like to say it, but I know it well. Each day, I see the tree, there in the middle. Everybody has a tree. They have names like fear, lust, and pride. I don’t know all of them, but I know my tree. It peeks through other foliage reminding me of its forbidden status.
My bent nature, and the indulgences of those around me, keep me from loathing my tree as I should. And so I tasted the fruit. I hated myself afterward, and stayed far from the tree. But even at the edge of my garden, I spotted splashes of color from the fruit.
Jesus came into my garden. He led me back to the tree and touched each fruit. My bite marks instantly healed over, but at the same time, wounds appeared on his body. Then he took me by the hand and we walked through the garden in the cool of the evening. Joy interlaced its fingers with peace. I didn’t feel the usual tug of the tree, not even when we were near it.
“There’s another, the Tree of Life,” Jesus said. “One day you’ll eat of that one. It has all of the bliss of your tree, but none of the addiction, destruction, or neurosis. Wait for that tree.”
While we laughed and played, my thoughts were consumed by Jesus. Then I bounded away to investigate a waterfall. From the height of a verdant cliff, I could see red dots hanging from the tree at the center of my garden. I thought, If I don’t get back to Jesus, the tree will have me again.
Prayer: Jesus, keep me close, protect me from temptation.
- Details
- Written by: Don Goulding
Then he said to them, “Watch out and guard yourself from all types of greed, because one’s life does not consist in the abundance of his possessions.” (Luke 12:15)
In Germany, an acquaintance showed me his new BMW he’d picked up that day. An unspoken spark jumped the cultural barriers, because we both appreciated a beautiful automobile. We walked around the sleek, black trophy with the awe reserved for cathedrals. He opened the door and invited me to sit inside, and even drive if I wanted. The smell of new car and leather was seductive, and I imagined he would name it after a swank German actress. The doors closed with a precisely fitting thud.
Let’s go back over this moment of car ecstasy with the objective eyes of a nontemporal being. Our joy over the aerodynamic lines was nothing more than biochemical traces in our brain neurons left by previous encounters with automobiles in which we were told, “This is a nice car.” The exciting aroma was the outgassing of construction materials, primarily toluene and trimethylbenzene, transmitted to our sensory nose hairs. My imaginary personification of an inanimate object was responsible for ascribing gender to the apparatus. The satisfying door closure resulted from displaced air molecules creating sonic waves that vibrated our eardrums.
Often my pleasures and comforts are just so many reactions of chemistry. To grow up into Christ means I begin to delight in pleasures that are eternal, like love and peace. As a spiritual being, I can live above the base physical elements. I need to own fewer belongings but possess greater kindness, to acquire more faithfulness before a larger estate.
How beautiful and fulfilling it is to have a portfolio of goodness, mercy, and service, and to give monetary reserves to charity. Some would say that’s an irresponsible life. I say it is reckless to live for that which produces a momentary chemical stimulus, and forgo investments into eternal love and its many dividends.
Prayer: Everlasting God, set my mind on true pleasures.
- Details
- Written by: Don Goulding
Deep calls to deep
in the roar of your waterfalls;
all your waves and breakers
have swept over me.
By day the Lord directs his love,
at night his song is with me—
a prayer to the God of my life. (Psalms 42:7, 8) (NIV)
On a beach in the South Pacific, I stare at the clouds. Thirty shades of orange ignite the billows rising from the sea. The sky matures from orange to red so gradually the change is only noticed when I turn away for a time. In the middle of the layered display, way off toward the horizon, one cloud takes center stage. It hums with butterscotch radiance.
What’s in that place of burning light and color? Does the epicenter of that beauty attract angelic songs and twirling seraphim? I wish I could enter the exact location.
High resolution photos of the Sombrero Galaxy reveal a disk of light set against black velvet garnished with diamonds. The galaxy’s center is a mass of light too bright to make out the source. Swirling around the nucleus are 800 billion white suns, looking like so many grains of bleached flour.
What’s in the middle of the 50,000 light-year wide Sombrero Galaxy? I know my body would incinerate, but what would my spirit find in that place where so much creation fills time and space?
From the frothing waves under an emerald waterfall, to the muted serenity of a baby inside the womb, there are places that call to my being.
“Here is the nucleus of life,” they say, “in this seat you can experience the essence of creation.”
These are my “calling places.” They urge me into their core to fathom existence. And yet, they’re unapproachable, viewed only from afar.
We are made for life in the full. Our God wants us to crave life until we force our way past decay, and to his throne. He created us for union with himself and constructed a way, through Christ, to achieve our goal. The “calling places” of the present era serve to remind us that, until we leave the body and unite with God, we are outside of the life that is yet to come.
Prayer: God of my life, from the depths you call me to yourself.