Day 18

The story of the kingdom of God starts with God in a garden. First chaos, then creativity. First darkness, then light. First the raw material, then the artwork called Earth. First atoms, molecules and microbes, then life in all its abundant splendour. In the end God, The Green Fingers Master Artist looked at the garden and said: “Wow!”

But something’s missing: Humour, Laughter, Passion, Dreams, Emotions, Hope, Faith and Love.

Then God made us.

What a great story. I love how it’s told. It reads like a play, feels like a song and smells like the ground after the first summer rain. Some theologians believe that it was first told by a farmer.

I think they are right.

I spent the first half of my Saturday morning in the garden. Instead of fighting against the end of summer, I’m embracing the splendour of autumn. I am starting off with a new canvas. I am busy planning the artwork. I have a picture in my mind and autumn is the time to draw the almost invisible pencil lines. The depth will come in winter, the colours in spring and the joy of a finished piece of art will be the highlight of summer.

I’m moving on from the “box of junk” metaphor. I found it’s not helping.

All around the house were dead leafs. Usually we throw them away, but not this winter. I learnt a while ago that if you use them as mulch or leave them to rot into compost, your garden will bloom like Eden itself.

We have to let go. We have to let die. We have to let rot.

But it’s not junk, it’s just shit waiting to decompose into life giving compost.

Day 14

I am confronted by my need to be right. It’s been part of my faith experience for so long. One of the first things that I was taught was that we are right and they are wrong. The world may have lots of questions, but we have in our possession the only right answer. That theology kick started a way of thinking for me. I did not want to engage with people different from me. I did want to hear about the arguments for a new way of thinking, because it might just confuse me.

I know it’s not just me. It’s part of the collective identity of so many religious people. I see it many times. We need to be right. That is how religion works.

It’s like a fortress: sturdy, solid and steadfast. It can’t be bent, move or give in without breaking. If you remove one brick, it weakens. If you remove a few others, the walls might come tumbling down. A fortress needs to be defended, protected, guarded and maintained. The idea is to keep foreign objects out. It is always tense, most of the times hostile and more often than not highly threatened. In a fortress mercy is weakness and power is safety. It is always looking for the best vantage point from where it can stand over and against things that are different. It cannot compromise, relax, flex, appreciate, accommodate, stretch or drop its guard at all. The moment it does that, it seizes to be a good fortress any longer.

That kind of faith just does not work for me anymore. (I hope there is still some space left in the box labelled “Junk”.)

This journey hopes to find better metaphors for faith, because life bends and God moves.

Like a Jumping Castle as a symbol for faith.

When faith moves from religion to relationship it tends to be more like a JC. If you watch children play in it you sometimes get the feeling that the castle is going to brake, but that’s when the jumping is at its best. The walls, corners and pillars are supposed to give in, they are made that way. If they don’t, then you are not jumping wild enough!

Jumping alone is fine for a while, but the best times are when the castle is bursting with kids going crazy.

There is also no competition, no technique, and no prize for the best jumper and no awards for the most back-flips in one jump.

It’s not about the castle, the ticket sales or whether you get the jumping part right or not.

It’s really just about getting your hair messy and your clothes wrinkled, in other words having a bag full of fun.

In the end the JC way of faith is guided only by two rules:

1. You always have to take of your shoes.
2. Don’t hurt the other kids.

Day 12

I don’t believe in Hell. There, I said it. It’s off my chest and out of my system. Wrapped up and ready to meet its friend “Guilt” who’s already inside the box of junk.

This is a big confession.

For so long I believed that to follow Jesus means to believe in hell as place where the lost, the wretched and the damned go. That, so I thought is the starting place of faith. To believe in Jesus is to admit that you are lost and in dire need of some form of saving. If your time runs out before you came to this realization, well, then the Devil and the rest of gang will be waiting for you on the other side. Needless to say, it left me scared shitless.

But fear does not lead to faith. It only leads to superstition and forced religiosity.

Tonight, while grinding coffee beans, it came to me. I don’t believe in hell, because that’s not where I’m heading. It’s not part of my reality. My faith does not depend on the belief in the Devil or the Hell as place where sinners go when they die.

No, I choose life before death. The abundant kind Jesus spoke about. That is where I am going to start looking for God.

What a way to end the week. The box is getting heavy, I must admit. For a moment I thought of taking it out and putting it back, but then I thought: “To hell with it, I am throwing it out!”