Glory

When was the last time you saw the glory of God?
Saw it and knew?
Glimpsed it and marveled?

The poet Elizabeth Barrett Browning once wrote:
Earth is crammed with heaven,
And every common bush afire with God:
But only he who sees, takes off his shoes.
The rest sit round it, and pluck blackberries…

I can’t begin to count the number of blackberries I’ve happily, or maybe unhappily, devoured throughout my life, all the while missing the glory of the Living God. And while I am sure our ability to see this glory depends on what we look at, more and more, I am convinced it depends on the way that we see.

One way God speaks to me is through particular words that come in time and on time for purposes I may not fully understand in the moment. A word that keeps popping up with recent regularity has been glory.

The kind of glory that is grabbing my attention is unrelated to the place some refer to as God’s home. Neither does it have much to do with the invitation we often read in the Bible—to give glory to God in acts of praise and worship. I am not even thinking about the kind of glory revealed in nature, as in the way Psalm 19:1 captures it, “The heavens declare the glory of God, and the sky above proclaims God’s handiwork.”

Creation does indeed reveal God’s glory, and when we take time to notice all the beauty that surrounds us, we are apt to see this glory and give glory in the same way St. Francis did:

Most High, all-powerful, all-good Lord, all praise is Yours, all glory, honor, and blessings.
To you alone, Most High, do they belong; no mortal lips are worthy to pronounce Your Name.
We praise You, Lord, for all Your creatures, especially for Brother Sun,
who is the day through whom You give us light.
And he is beautiful and radiant with great splendor, of You Most High, he bears your likeness.
We praise You, Lord, for Sister Moon and the stars,
in the heavens, you have made them bright, precious, and fair.
We praise You, Lord, for Brothers Wind and Air, fair and stormy, all weather’s moods,
by which You cherish all that You have made.
We praise You, Lord, for Sister Water, so useful, humble, precious, and pure.
We praise You, Lord, for Brother Fire, through whom You light the night.
He is beautiful, playful, robust, and strong.
We praise You, Lord, for Sister Earth, who sustains us with her fruits, colored flowers, and herbs.

Indeed, heaven and earth declare God’s glory! But the kind or quality of glory I am drawn to these days has more to do with a sense of Presence, sometimes captured in Hebrew as “heaviness” and being under the full weight of God’s presence.
Do you sense the weight of God at all today? In the past?
If so, how and when have you ever felt the weight of this kind of glory?

Ephesians 3 contains a phrase that has long amazed and baffled me. In this chapter from Paul’s letter to the congregation in Ephesus, the apostle dares to say (and even pray—like he expects it to happen!?!) that “God’s glory will be revealed in the church.” In the church!?! In people like you and me and how we live together as a community?!?

Was this man delusional? What a dumb idea! I mean–does he know who we are? How we are prone to act? Glory in the church?

But here we find Paul praying like it is not only possible, but necessarily evident among those who choose to live under the full weight of God’s Presence. It is a natural consequence for those who allow the “brightness” (another way glory is spoken of in the New Testament) to be revealed through them!

In your local church or meeting, if you attend one, how often do you consider what it means or might mean for God’s glory to be revealed in you and through you to a watching world?

I have been thinking about this aspect of glory because I work with so many congregations who are laboring to figure out—once again—what it means to be the church in the world. What is our work, and how do we go about it in our time and place? And more lately, what is distinct about being a fellowship of faith, instead of one more social justice advocacy group, community center, club, service organization, or political party? Increasingly, I am convinced this matter of glory—being revealed in and through us—is crucial to our identity as faith communities.

The congregation in Ephesus was likely a small house church in a city of about 250,000 people. Though we have come through a time that many people called “unprecedented,” there were similarities between then and now. In those days, citizens lived under the heavy, threatening hand of the Roman empire. Through the Pax Romana, relative peace was often kept through the threat of violence, suppression, and domination. Citizens were encouraged to remember whom they belonged to and where their allegiance must lie. Through loyalty and worship of the Emperor—civil religion and nationalism were very strong. In those days, historians think about 65% of the population lived at or below subsistence levels, with a large gap between the haves and have-nots. And there were health crises—like a probable smallpox outbreak around 160AD—that may have killed more than a quarter of the population. Maybe the past few years are not as unprecedented as we might imagine.
But in the midst of these realities, a new community was forming, made up of Jew and Gentile, Greek and Barbarian, slave and free, rich and poor, male and female, Roman citizens and those under occupation. In a divided world, people came together to establish what one writer called a “sociological impossibility”—a “movement without analogy.” What they were creating—or better, how God was re-creating them—was an intriguing puzzle to those around them.

A second-century writing known as the Letter to Diognetus reflects how God was visible among them in those days. It is the era in which the church at Ephesus would have likely been flourishing. The writer describes them this way:

“Christians are indistinguishable from others either by nationality, language, or customs. They do not inhabit separate cities of their own, or speak a strange dialect, or follow some outlandish way of life. Unlike some other people, they champion no purely human doctrine. With regard to dress, food, and manner of life in general, they follow the customs of whatever city they happen to be living in, whether it is Greek or foreign. And yet there is something extraordinary about their lives.”

He goes on, as many other early church writers do, to touch on some of the extraordinarily-ordinary ways a community just like that one—and maybe one like your fellowship and mine—can reveal the glory of God as we live under the weight of that Presence and allow the brightness of that reality to shine through us. Some of these ways include:
• Fidelity—to God, our spouses, and one another in the pursuit of faithfulness.
• Care for the poor in practical and intentional ways that reflect our harmony with the heart of God.
• Mutual aid—caring for the practical and material needs of the fellowship’s brothers and sisters.
• Enduring suffering and condemnation when persecuted or opposed, rather than lashing out in defensiveness. “Blessed are you when you are persecuted for my Name’s sake…”
• Practicing reconciliation rather than division—and seeking to live into that unity that transcends our diversity.
• Praying for others with sincerity and bringing the healing power of God into one another’s lives.
• Demonstrating an allegiance to one ruler, the risen Living Christ, rather than any emperor or political party. Acts 17 describes this reality, in part, by saying it “turns the world upside-down” when we refuse to give our allegiance to false Gods or humans and political systems who imagine themselves as in power.
• Honest and integrity, hospitality, and generosity.
• Non-violent resistance to injustice, idolatry, and evil.
• Above all else, this glory is revealed through the discipline and grace of sacrificial love.

The writer of the Letter to Diognetus concludes by saying, “To speak in general terms, we may say that the Christian is to the world what the soul is to the body.”

God’s glory was revealed through the incarnational Presence of Christ being lived out in and through them. It was and remains possible, I believe, as we learn to live under the weight of God’s real Presence among us.

I share the examples from the Early Church—not because I think they must be replicated—but rather to remind us that more often than not, it is not in the splashy, attention-seeking, or dramatic actions that God is revealed. Rather, lives and communities are often transformed through the persistent, resilient, faithful presence of a people living under the full weight of God.

A couple of years ago, I was speaking at a Mennonite church in Kansas. A plaque on the wall just outside their sanctuary was a translation of Philemon 6 that read: I pray that everyone who meets you will see how wonderful it is to live in Christ.

The congregation intended this to serve as a reminder of who they hoped to be for God’s glory and the good of others. Now, as far as I can tell, this is a really lousy translation of Philemon 6. Neither the Greek nor any English translation I can find puts it this way. But I love what it implies! Through the abiding Presence of Christ in us, others can see and be drawn to the goodness and glory of God.

I’ve carried this message with me since seeing it that day and often reflect on its meaning for my life, my local congregation, and Quakers in general.
Questions I keep asking—for myself and Friends in general: Do people experience being nearer to the Presence of God when they are among us? How often does anyone get a glimpse of glory because of who we are and what we do? Are others drawn to our God and our shared life because they “see how wonderful it is to live in Christ? And finally, do we take time to see and feel the glorious weight of God cramming every nook and crack of creation and enflaming the bushes all around us?

I’d love to hear your thoughts. In the meantime, I will put down my bowl of blackberries and check out a few nearby bushes…