Together Again

The Metamorphosis of God In the Beginning Was the Word The churches of Christianity don’t realize they are holding a monstrosity in their arms, hugging him tightly, resting their head trustingly on his bosom. Warmed by his closeness, their eyes closed dreamily in his tight embrace, they feel safe and secure. But the God of their dreams is an idol of undiscerned blasphemies and infinite evil. He is not the true loving God of the Bible. Across the long centuries, a heavy accumulation of erroneous traditions has been thrown over God’s self-portrait. Christian doctrine has become a thick, blanketing shroud hanging heavily over the cross. Those grave-clothes of tradition must be pulled off and thrown away. God’s glory must be allowed to shine forth again openly. But sadly, tradition is always guarded by loyalty. To get rid of tradition, you must first overcome loyalty. Believers are programmed. In every church, loyalty to tradition is pushed as a virtue. It’s called faith, and the people are urged to be faithful. The mantra is, “trust and obey.” Loyalty to tradition is equated with loyalty to Christ and the truth, and easily becomes the love of their spiritual lives. And when zeal is added to loyalty and tradition, it trumps reason every time. Is that you, child? All the churches have their loyalists, quick to the defense of dogma. In every church, traditionalists are convinced that they possess the God-given truths of the Bible, to be guarded with zeal and steadfastness, no matter their biblical support. After all, those dogmas have impressive pedigrees. They come with long histories from trusted and respected leaders. Criticism of a church’s dogma doesn’t just reproach today’s faithful, then. It’s also a reproach against their forbears, against the founders of their tradition, the heroes of their faith. In traditionalist eyes criticism is a rash and foolish rejection of history and of truth itself. And so their hand-me-down doctrines are unthinkingly followed, blasphemous though they may be. Loyalty to tradition keeps the shroud of errors firmly in place, draped securely over the cross. On the other hand, many of the attendees who warm the pews in this post-modern world, as well as those who don’t, just don’t care, one way or another. Your set of beliefs is as good as mine. Or maybe mine’s better, but let’s not fuss over it. Religion is a private matter. To each his own. Truth is relative, after all, and no one has a monopoly on it. Peace is what matters. Let’s not disturb the peace. Live and let live. Why fuss about doctrine? Let’s learn to get along together. This nonchalance and apathy over doctrine is the shoe on the other foot. Both shoes have fallen. This has led to an easy acceptance of strange and irrational doctrines that cannot stand close scrutiny. Loyalty and apathy, religion and secularism, both keep the traditions firmly in place. If the truth is to be seen, the traditions must be torn away. One of these traditions waves God off into a separate world, high and away in utter holiness, far above the dirt and grime that ever clings to embodiedness. He is pure Spirit, they claim, a holy ghost, ephemeral and other-worldly. And strangely, he has three heads. Well, strangely, he has three heads and he doesn’t have three heads. The churches have substituted an incomprehensible three-headed gargoyle for the living God of Scripture. But because their gargoyle is Spirit rather than wood or stone, said to live in the Bible and in their heart, they think to have avoided the trap of idolatry. So they strive hard to please him in their lives and in their worship. They strive for a close personal relationship with him. But substitution, wherever found, is always false. Always. That’s a strong statement, but it’s true. To substitute is to make believe that one thing is another. That’s not possible, child. And yet this silly game of pretend is played passionately every week in the churches. It’s pure fiction. Substitution is a lie candy coated to mask its taste so it will go down easier. But eat too many of them and you’ll get sick. And that’s what has happened. The churches have swallowed too much substitution and have become feverish. They’ve lost touch with reality. A substitute for God, even if it’s spirit, even if it’s made of doctrines and traditions instead of wood or stone, is an idol, and setting it up in church doesn’t make it real. And a substitute Christ is actually an Antichrist. But unfortunately, substitution is now central to Christian doctrine. Christianity early donned these bright clothes of pretense and make-believe, and those pretensions have come down to us basically unchanged. In churches of every stripe, the faithful take great care not to soil these Sunday clothes by questioning or doubting. The people are taught that true faith upholds their beliefs. They must “trust and obey.” So, in every church there stands a golden calf with three heads, a substitute God made up of lies and blasphemies. There it stands, motionless and immutable, robed with error, while the leaders proudly cry out, “Here is your God, O Israel.” And they eagerly and passionately present this substitute god, this golden gargoyle, to the people for worship. Incredible? No, child, it’s happening everywhere. The churches of Christianity have apostatized. They’ve fallen into appallingly false traditions. And they don’t recognize how foolish and blasphemous is their worship. Because their idol is spiritual rather than physical, because it’s made of words put together into sweet-tasting, candy-coated doctrines that make them feel good, they don’t recognize it as an idol. Instead, they draw it tightly to their breast and sing its praises. Thinking to honor God, they flatter their idol to the high heavens. He is pure spirit, and untouched by the dirt and grime that clings to the things of this world. The shroud must be removed. How? Will it come off with a polite tug, if we smile and say nice, feely-touchy things? No, it’s heavy. And it’s stuck. We must yank on it vigorously, repeatedly. So, that’s what we’ll do. Let the traditionalists huff and puff. Forget politeness. We’ll be frank and blunt, and in your face. We’ll yank the shroud vigorously aside. Let the dust fly. It’ll be worth the effort. The truth will be seen, again. God’s Original Embodiedness We can begin with the nontraditional and disquieting idea that God once was embodied. Yes, in the beginning, at the creation, God had a body. The disquieting truth of his embodiedness has always been there, but it was hidden under the shroud. Now, upon seeing it suddenly for the first time it may shock and awe traditionalists, like a ghost that unexpectedly materializes and speaks. But is it a ghost, or is it an angel? Either way, ghost or angel, the truth of God’s embodiedness will challenge most churchmen cushioned comfortably in the overstuffed chairs of tradition and orthodoxy. Yes, the biblical record presents the disturbing truth that God was embodied when our world was formed. In the beginning, God had a body. In the beginning, the divine Body and the divine Spirit were One. Believe it, child. Wrap your brain around the idea. Hug it tightly, and never let it go. It’s the basis of all history. It’s why the world was created. It tells the purpose of life, and opens up the future. It’s the reason for the cross and for salvation. And it explains why the divine Word became flesh in the man Jesus. In the beginning, when God created the heavens and the earth, he was both matter and spirit, together. But then something wondrous and amazing happened. God had been contemplating metamorphosis for himself. He had been wanting a change. So, he decided that he would temporarily separate his Body from his Spirit, transform it, and return it to himself renewed and revitalized.