Through a glass, darkly.

From my friend Rich Dixon:

Last week I talked about teaching calculus and “understanding” infinity.

Students would describe “approaching infinity” or “jumping to infinity.” The symbol for infinity ( ∞ ) somehow became a special really big number. Incomplete metaphors are the normal reaction when we’re faced with a concept beyond comprehension.

I told students there was one way to tell if they had a clear idea about infinity. If you’re sure you understand, that’s a sign you don’t.

+ + +

I think a lot about kids caught in the horrors of human trafficking. We do bike tours to support one group of kids in one safe house.

All good, I guess, but I can’t help wondering about the big picture and how such evil is allowed to persist. How can there be parents so impoverished and desperate that selling children seems the only option?

I think Jesus welcomes conversations about those questions. I think He wants to walk with us as we discover our role in resolving injustice where we see it.

And I think He wants us to trust Him, to believe His concern for those kids surpasses ours. He wants us to know He held them gently in His hands before they were born. Long before we showed up, He cared for them in ways beyond our understanding.

I don’t know how that works, and that’s my point. Jesus’ work is so vast and so all-encompassing that I can’t possibly understand it.

There might be a way to tell if I grasp the limitless nature of Jesus’ radical commitment to love and justice. If I’m sure I do, that’s a sign I don’t.

A thought to ponder during Lent:

For now we see only a reflection as in a mirror; then we shall see face to face. Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I am fully known.