Your Square Inch, Part 2: Your Redemptive Potential

Looking past cynicism to see your eternal significance.

In my last blog post, I discussed the theological concept of sphere sovereignty. It was my attempt to offer a practical way forward by which we labor for the common good of the Commonwealth. And yet, in my experience advocating for a sphere sovereignty approach, a significant stumbling block to its implementation is our cynicism. 

Does this really have the potential to change the world? Previously we discussed the failures of the coercive power of both the Church and state, but at least we can conceive of the power of both as institutions. Historically inept though they may be, we can still imagine their potential to change the world. When it comes to sphere sovereignty, however, the problem we face is whether it actually possesses the potential to bring about substantive change. And this skepticism hinders our motivation to labor for a better world within our spheres.  

This is the dilemma I hope to overcome with this post. Having discussed the pragmatics of sphere sovereignty, let's now turn our attention to the potential of sphere sovereignty. I want to help us imagine this redemptive potential in three ways: preserving, planting, pining. 

Preserving

When we think of our potential impact on the world, we should distance ourselves from radical triumphalism. I am increasingly uncomfortable with the notion of cultural transformation, not as a deserving aim but as an undeserved expectation. We must guard against an over-realized eschatology by expecting all things new before Jesus returns and makes all things new. I am not asking us to lower our expectations of thy Kingdom come thy will be done, but I am asking us to appreciate the way in which God's Kingdom does come, and God's will is done. It's simply not as radical as we imagine it. In fact, it's rather ordinary, oftentimes indiscernible. 

Rather than radical 'change the world' expectations, it is far better to conceive of our life as what the world would be without it. We must view ourselves less as radical change agents and more as humble preserving agents. "You are the salt of the earth," Jesus says. Salt was, for them, a preservative that slowed decay. Thus, Jesus is helping us appreciate that the decay of this world would be far more putrid without our preserving presence. 

This is the conclusion of the classic Christmas film It's a Wonderful Life. George Bailey is overwhelmed by the difficulties and futility of his life, so much so that he is driven to take his own life. But a guardian angel intervenes. However, unlike the solution in Dickens' Christmas Carol wherein Ebenezer Scrooge's vision focuses on his own life, the perspective the angel gives George Bailey is not about Bailey but the world without Bailey. He is shown a glimpse of his community as if he never existed, and the glimpse is dystopian. All the small and seemingly insignificant good deeds of George Bailey are taken out of the world, and without them, the world is far worse off. 

This is how the Christian ought to primarily conceive of their impact upon the world. Think less about what you can do to radically change the world and more what the world would be without you. 

If It's a Wonderful Life is too cliché for you, the same concept is displayed in A Hidden Life. It tells the story of one man's seemingly pointless protest against the Third Reich, a hidden life against the Nazi regime. And both the novel and film are honest with the hopelessness of it all. He loses everything, including his own life, because of his resistance, and the viewer is left wrestling with the utter futility of his virtue. But the film closes with this poignant line from the novel, "The growing good of the world is partly dependent on unhistoric acts; and that things are not so ill with you and me as they might have been, is half owing to the number who lived faithfully a hidden life, and rest in unvisited tombs."

What a perfect quote to describe the nobility of our preserving presence. That the world is not as ill as it ought to be is owing to the number who lived faithfully hidden lives and rest in unvisited tombs. This must be included in your vision for your life. Be counted among the countless lives of those who lived for Christ and Kingdom and now rest in unvisited graves, but whose presence staid the decay and darkness of this world with unrecognized Kingdom virtue such that were it not for said virtue, that chapter of history would be far worse than it was. 

When we speak of potential, it begins by recognizing that the ordinary happens to be extraordinary. A faithful presence of hidden virtue may seem insignificant but is, in fact, quite significant in preserving the world from what it would be, were it not for your presence. 

Planting

Next, let's explore our potential impact through the metaphor of planting. Christians like to use the language of building the Kingdom as if a remade world is something we ourselves are constructing. But this is not how the coming Kingdom of God is spoken of in Scripture. 

Jesus describes his Kingdom with this parable from Mark 4, "The kingdom of God is as if a man should scatter seed on the ground. He sleeps and rises night and day, and the seed sprouts and grows; he knows not how. The earth produces by itself, first the blade, then the ear, then the full grain in the ear. But when the grain is ripe, at once he puts in the sickle, because the harvest has come."

We scatter seeds within the spheres entrusted to our care and then notice a few things. "He sleeps and rises night and day," meaning he is not in control of the results. "The seed sprouts and grows; he knows not how," meaning he isn't even given clarity on the impact he's having. "The earth produces by itself," not by his strength, skill, or ingenuity, but by itself. We are not able to manufacture the impact of our lives. 

Regarding the Kingdom of God and its manifestation within our world, we are planting, not building. Building emphasizes our work, while planting trusts God is at work. Building emphasizes immediacy, while planting is patient, gradual, perhaps generations to come results. Building satisfies our demand for control and clarity, while planting forces us to accept our limitations and leave the results to God. Therefore, when it comes to the notion of impact, we plant seeds and trust God.

But make no mistake, that trust is not in vain. The Christian life is planting seeds among countless seeds within a garden of redemption cultivated by the sovereign providence of God, which is sure to bring forth a full and final harvest of redemption. 

Pining

There is coming a day when all our labors—every single thing done in the name of Jesus—will come to bear upon this world, and we will get to see and celebrate that we indeed are world changers. Nothing done in the name of Jesus will ever be lost or forgotten. Therefore, the final way we should imagine our impact is through pining for the impact to come. 

Revelation 21 says, "Then I saw a new heaven and a new earth, for the first heaven and the first earth had passed away, and the sea was no more. And I saw the holy city, the new Jerusalem, coming down out of heaven from God." 

This is the moment for which we pine. Heaven overwhelms and transforms the earth yielding a new heaven and earth. But what is fascinating is that it is a descending city, not a garden, which is an interesting twist to the story. Previously, I argued that if the fall had never occurred, we would not have frolicked about the garden of Eden forever. We would have advanced and developed the world just as humans have done, only all our advancements would have honored God and blessed creation. 

Fast forwarding to the end of the story and reunion of heaven and earth, it is not the return of the garden of Eden, essentially giving creation a redo of sorts. Instead, it is a city. An advanced, fully developed, world-encompassing, God-honoring, creation-blessing city that bears the glory of every tongue, tribe, and nation. Revelation shows us that creation is still destined to be as it would have been if not for sin. Our resurrection will be like waking up from a collective nightmare and realizing the fall never even occurred. 

But where did that heavenly reality come from? Where and how is this holy city constructed? It is being constructed as we speak, and you are hard at work building it. The coming redeemed world will be filled with the labors of God's people throughout the centuries, meaning nothing done in the name of Jesus is ever lost or forgotten. Those who labor for heaven on earth will one day realize they have succeeded. In this way, our pining for a new world is not pie-in-the-sky wishful thinking; it is profoundly applicable to our lives here and now. 

Allow me to turn to Lesslie Newbigin to further explain. Newbigin once delivered lectures on "The Kingdom of God and the Idea of Progress," which are found in a book compiling several of his lectures entitled Signs Amid the Rubble. I'm going to quote portions of those lectures, then add clarifying comments to the stereotypically dense words from Newbigin. 

Newbigin says this, "We all rightly shrink from the phrase 'building the Kingdom of God' not because the Kingdom does not call for our labor, but because we know that the best work of our hands and brains is too marred by sin and pride and impure ambition to be itself fit for the Kingdom. All our social institutions, even the very best that have been produced under Christian influence, have still the taint of sin about them." 

His point is that even if we could build God's Kingdom here on earth, it would be a marred kingdom, for even our best efforts in service to Jesus are tainted with sin and thus unfit for the perfect world that is the Kingdom of God. 

Therefore, Newbigin concludes, "There is no straight line of development from here to the Kingdom." That is to say, redemption's progress is not a simplistic, linear, and triumphant march that ends in a new world. And the ultimate reason this is so, according to Newbigin, is the reality of death. Even the limited good that our marred deeds produce is destined for burial. He says, "Across our path this obliterating shadow lies: not only must we go into the dark unknown, but also all our labors, all our achievements, all is destined to be swept away and forgotten. Everything in the end is destined to be buried in the dust of failure and death."

So, Newbigin has not shied away from our cynicism. He concedes that our best efforts to redeem the world are tainted by sin, and then we die and eventually, even those tainted efforts will be forgotten, and the impact of our lives lost.

But Newbigin doesn't end there. "Our faith as Christians is that just as God raised up Jesus from the dead, so will He raise up us from the dead. And that just as all that Jesus had done in the days of his life seemed on Easter Saturday to be buried in final failure and oblivion, ye was by God's power raised to new life and power again, so all the faithful labor of God's servants which time seems to bury in the dust and failure will be raised up, will be found to be there, transfigured, in the new Kingdom."

This is his crucially important point. When Jesus lay lifeless in his tomb, it wasn't just his body that was buried, but also his work. All his words, deeds, promises, and most significantly, his alleged atoning sacrifice—all was buried and destined to be forgotten as pointless history. But when Jesus rose on Sunday, it wasn't only his life that was resurrected, but also his life's work. All of it, including his cross, was vindicated as true and effectual and continues to transform the world to this day. 

Well, Newbiggin argues, you too will be raised in this way. Not just your life but also your life's work. "All the faithful labor of God's servants which time seems to bury in the dust and failure will be raised up, will be found to be there, transfigured, in the new Kingdom." Nothing we do for Jesus is in vain. All who labor to bring heaven to earth will see and celebrate their success when Jesus indeed brings heaven to earth.  

Newbiggin concludes, "Every faithful act of service, every honest labor to make the world a better place, which seemed to have been forever lost and forgotten in the rubble of history, will be seen on that day to have contributed to the perfect fellowship of God's Kingdom."

Rather than Lesslie Newbigin, perhaps it will help to quote the Apostle Paul. 1 Corinthians 15 contains Paul's famous resurrection discourse. He argues that Jesus is risen from the dead, and we too will be raised from the dead, all leading to his famous boast, "O death, where is thy sting? O grave, where is thy victory?" But what many fail to notice is Paul's application to this resurrection promise. One might expect an encouragement to hold on to that future hope, but instead, he ends with present pragmatics, "Therefore be steadfast, immovable, always abounding in the work of the LORD, because you know that your labor is not in vain!" How does the future resurrection make our present labors not in vain though they seem so vain? Because Jesus is not just going to resurrect your body; he is going to resurrect your body of work. 

Go for it, brothers and sisters, go for it! Fill Kentucky with good deeds knowing as certain as Jesus risen from the dead that when Kentucky is transformed, the indelible mark of your labors will contribute to that transformation. We long to see impact now, and we rejoice when we do get to see it, but one day, we are guaranteed to see it. Each of us will look around this glorious, resurrected world and marvel at what we have done.

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