Bert Hielema–Columns and Writings

May 20 2023

THE ARK, THE CHURCH, AND US.

Ojibwe/Chippewa Tribe

The story goes that the Great Spirit was unhappy with man and created a great flood. The only survivor was Waynaboozhoo who had made a raft of logs and sticks for himself and other animals that were alive. They floated around for over a month, but the waters had not gone down.

This account is only one of the many ‘flood’ legends that live in the indigenous communities of the world. The most prominent, of course, is the Noah story, related in Genesis 6, where God expressed his dismay with granting humanity such a powerful position on the planet, endangering its continuous viability. So, God decided to make a new start with Noah and his family: “Build a boat made from cypress trees”. 

Cypress Trees?

I am not sure why Vincent van Gogh, that famous Dutch painter, who killed himself at the age of 37, adopted the Mediterranean cypress tree as a motif. Maybe because the tall, tapered, cone-shaped evergreen has always carried associations of mourning and death, and the FLOOD caused a lot of death. Of course, God knew the tree’s qualities, as they are like our cedar trees, light in weight and very durable. They grow tall and slim, easy to debranch, and, by divine design, excellent material to fashion a huge ship.

The Ark as a symbol of the church.

For many years the Noah family was busy in nowhere to construct this huge vessel: felling the trees, abundant in those days, where now there only is desert. Their act was a telling testimony, a warning, and, of course, also the butt of many jokes, just like today, when preaching for the Lord’s return is seen as odd, to say the least. The signs then were loud and visible: the signs now too are loud and visible. The decade-long Ark construction job, culminating in the mysterious march of the animals, failed to impress the people. Now the disappearance of the animals and the global heating out there too, is failing to change people’s mindset.

A New and Different World emerged.

After the waters had receded, God again spoke to Noah: see Genesis 9, the most under-appreciated passage in the Hebrew Bible:

Then God said to Noah and to his sons with him:“I now establish my covenant with you and with your descendants after you, and with every living creature that was with you—the birds, the livestock and all the wild animals, all those that came out of the ark with you—every living creature on earth. ¹¹ I establish my covenant with you: Never again will all life be destroyed by the waters of a flood; never again will there be a flood to destroy the earth.”

Two things stand out: 

1. God included all animals and placed them on the same level as humans, worthy of being God’s partners: that’s what ‘Covenant’ means, a solemn treaty between equals. 

2. No repeat of God’s direct intervention with creation: we are on our own: we are the new gods. God granted us absolute power over creation. 

What is our report card so far?

Not too great, frankly. Great disparity between the rich and the rest, even in the so-called West, where I live. Christianity itself, is in deep decline, while the need for comfort and faith is at a premium. Statistics show that people who attend church live longer and more content, because human interaction is necessary for happiness. We need others; we need fellowship, but life is so busy, that there is no time to prepare healthy meals, and no time to exercise properly: so, paradoxically, we die much sooner.

Here is the problem.

The church, in general, sees the Bible as God’s only word, and the salvation of the soul of prime importance. Our treatment of the planet mirrors our own busy and unhealthy life, assuring its death as well. Our economy regards the state of the stock market and economic growth as the sole criterion for a profitable bottom line, and never counts the damage to creation as a cost. Now that cost is due: expect ever higher inflation, rapid economic decline and collapse.

The Ark, the Church and us.

Karen Armstrong in her latest book, Sacred Nature, traces how slowly we abandoned the concept of the holiness of creation, adopted the heaven heresy, preferring the Scriptures over God’s Created Word, even though the Book of Job and many Psalms affirm that “The earth is the Lord’s and the fulness thereof, the world and all that dwells therein”.

John 3: 13 tells us that nobody goes to heaven, and John 3: 16 affirms that God’s love for creation exceeds God’s love for his Son. 

Shouldn’t we do the same? Love Creation unconditionally! 

May 13 2023

THE NEXT SIX MONTHS.

A bold statement! The next six months will decide the fate of the world, thanks to the culmination of outright stupidity and lack of religious understanding. Human initiative has surrendered to Artificial Intelligence, signalling the end of learning, promoting the sovereignty of ignorance. Human stupidity manifests itself in the evil of Infinite Growth in a Finite World, and the continuous expansion of fossil fuels. The Christian religion has gone off the rails, has degenerated into formalism and dependence on institutions, evident in the rejection of sexual differences, and the crowning of Charles III in an Old Testament structure.

Consequences.

The war of Putin versus NATO is sheer human folly. Wars are waste, waste the world cannot afford. Wars are history-makers, now leading to collapse, not only of the victims, but of the victors as well. 

The current hot war is but a small part of our total war against Creation, our war against God, a war we are destined to lose, of which the next six months will be decisive. 

May 10 1940.

I write these lines in the week of May 10, a day grafted in my mind. Now 83 years ago, I can still vividly visualize what happened on that day: Germany invaded my country, the Netherland. It was a beautiful, sunny day, and I was sitting, me, almost 12 years old, on a low brick wall, surrounding the large Reformed Church, located on the corner lot next to our house on the north and to my elementary school on the east. 

In front of me was a triangle-shaped field, where we played soccer, giving me a perfect outline of the inner city, dominated by the 100meter high Martini Church Tower. A single-engine airplane circled overhead. The next day the German Army entered, the start of 5 years of brutal occupation. 

That day the world changed for ever.

Today, May 2023.

Today we are in a similar situation: the world changing forever: the final change. Wars do that to society, as suddenly history accelerates. The   outcome of that long, long war, from 1914-18, with a lull of 21 years, and its fateful conclusion from 1939-45, came at a cost of 100 million deaths, a full Ten Percent of those living on January 1 1900.

Now, May 2023, we face worse, much worse, as the fate of all living is at stake.

 I like detours. 

Detours expose me to new unexpected vistas. Augustine, that famous theologian in the 4^thcentury, when the church was in her infancy, and Latin the language of the still active Roman Empire – it would expire soon – said, “Si comprehendis, non est Deus”, meaning in the new Lingua Franca, English: If you think you understand it, you are not talking about God. 

The same is true about the future: if you think you know the future, you fool yourself. So, my heading is an impossibility. I don’t know what’s going to happen in the next six months, not in minute particulars. I even don’t know what my brain, my intuition, will write in the next few minutes. 

But one thing I know: we live in apocalyptic times: the true nature of humanity and of creation is being revealed: the true nature of us, humans, is now plain: utter stupidity. The true nature of creation too, is revealed: sinning against creation carries its own penalty: suicide.

But there are trends. And there is the Bible, and there is humanity, well depicted there, as 1 John 5: 19 tells me, “The whole world is under the control of the evil one.” That is an undeniable truth.

Evil is Putin. Evil is Trump. Evil is war, especially our war against creation. The next six months will be decisive for Ukraine. It may rout the Russians, but we all will lose, because it cannot win the war: 40 million versus 160 million.

The same is true for creation. I dislike the word, ‘nature’, a human word. 

So, where is ‘creation’ heading?

Already Western Canada is ablaze in early May. Already Siberia is ablaze in early May.

The next six months will be decisive. I am intrigued by the ARCTIC NEWS blog. Here is a quote:

“Conditions are dire, i.e. greenhouse gas levels are high, an El Niño is on the way and sea surface temperatures are high, all contributing to the threat of massive loss of Arctic sea ice. On top of that, there are developments that could make things even worse. Loss of Arctic sea-ice comes with loss of the latent heat buffer and loss of albedo that threaten to trigger subsequent eruptions of methane from the seafloor of the Arctic Ocean. Consequently, a huge temperature rise threatens to unfold soon.”

The next six months? Remember Jesus’ words about the thief.

May 6 2023

THE ONE THOUSAND YEARS OF PEACE.

He seized the dragon, that ancient serpent, who is the devil, or Satan, and bound him for a thousand years.                         Revelation 20: 2

 “If you are in a minority, and even alone, this does not mean you are crazy.”                                                             Orwell, in ‘1984’.

May 5 1945, saw the End of The German Reich, whose officials in 1939, when World War II began, boasted that it would endure for One Thousand Years. The entire Nazi venture, this truly evil empire, totally inspired by ‘that ancient serpent’, only lasted 13 years. 

The ‘One Thousand Year’ phenomenon, so prominently mentioned in the last Bible book, has given rise to immense speculation, dividing the church in ‘pre-millennian’ adherents whobelieve Christ returns after the millennium as a golden age, when the majority of the world has converted to Christianity, while post-millennian’ believers hold that Christ returns before the millennium, preceded by a period of intense tribulation.

There also are Amillennialism advocates, who do not expect a literal 1,000, but rather view it as Christ’s reign with his saints during the time between his two comings. 

All of them are wrong.

Johan Herman Bavinck, in his book on Revelation – and I translate – writes:

“Nowhere does the Bible speak of two returns of Christ, and nowhere else has the Bible ever referred to ‘1000 years of peace’ that is supposed to occur between these two returns, and this chapter – Revelation 20- even though it has definite mysterious passages, does not point into that direction at all. That’s all I want to comment here.”

So, Dr. Bavinck leaves us in the dark.

         Eugene H. Peterson, in his well-written REVERSED THUNDER, the Revelation of John & the Praying Imagination, does not mention ‘1000 years of peace’ at all.

         Here are two eminent and prominent theologians who have no explanation of an event that has divided the church, especially in the USA, engrossed as it is with The Last Days. Why then, would I be so bold and venture to comment on this puzzling passage? 

Well, I live in 2023. Both Bavinck and Peterson wrote their books more than 40 years ago, when Climate Change was not an everyday topic. We now have daily warnings of environmental perils, the latest being that plastic is everywhere: even in our bloodstream, even in newborn children. All purity is gone. There is no single drop of water in the oceans that cover 70 percent of the planet, totally uncontaminated; all soil, too, is polluted. The food we eat is basically oil.

         One Thousand Years ago.

One Thousand Years ago, the world’s population was somewhere between 250 and 300 million. Today there are more than 8 billion, a 30-fold increase. Then the biggest city, Constantinople, had an estimated population of 350,000. In comparison, London was a mere speck on the map, with some 20,000 citizens. Then Europe and America were entirely covered in forest. The only paved roads were the remnants of those left behind by the long-departed Romans.

Anno 1,000, the mechanical clock would not be invented for another 300 years. Chimneys would not be used in domestic settings for another century. The mathematical concept of zero was as yet unknown in Europe; so, too, was movable type. It was, to quote the great historian William Manchester, “a world lit only by fire.”

Fire.

2 Peter 3:10 applies here: The Day of the Lord will come like a thief. The heavens – the clouds – will disappear with a roar; the elements will be destroyed by fire, and the earth and everything in it will be laid bare. 

Methane means fire. ARCTIC NEWS’ latest headline is, Will Humanity go extinct in 2026? The scientists there see trillions of tons of buried Methane as the imminent danger. Methane, a flammable, odourless gas, is the main ingredient of the stuff we use for cooking and heating.

2026 could well be the beginning of the One Thousand Years of Peace. Satan and his followers to be imprisoned, so that they no longer can be the leaders and promoters of perennial perdition, with us as complacent planet-wide participants. With Satan bound, and us also out of the way, the earth will enter a long period of rest and recuperation, to be ready for the Redeemed of the Lord, who “will enter Zion with singing; everlasting joy will crown their heads. Gladness and joy will overtake them, and sorrow and sighing will flee away.” Isaiah 51: 11.

A word on AI.

         Will the Lord intervene as he did with the Tower of Babel, of which Artificial Intelligence is today’s equivalent? “If as one people speaking the same language can do this…… then nothing they plan to do is impossible for them”. (Genesis 11:6). Will God call their bluff again?

April 29 2023

DAY WITHOUT END.

Introduction. 

You most likely will not believe it, but, have a look at ARCTIC NEWS anyway. It offers the strong possibility that our global humanity, all living entities, actually, could vanish from the earth in 2026, that’s less than three years from now. 

Think about that: the scientists at Arctic News know the score there, know how our world’s weather depends on the North Pole region, its vanishing ice, and especially its buried methane, 87 times more lethal than our very own CO2. 

I suspect, however, that you will shrug it off as unimportant. After all, there are other matters to talk about, such as in Canada, hockey, in the US, baseball, and in ROW, the Rest of the world, soccer, of course.

But is anything more important than universal extinction? And Life Eternal? If, as I believe, our current life is just a trial run, shouldn’t we prepare for ‘real life’? Or has the present phase no purpose at all? Life ends, and that’s it? 

No. An emphatic ‘no’. I sincerely believe that it is the task of the church, and, especially our very own duty to prepare for ‘the real life to come’, which I, falteringly and, yes, totally inadequately, have tried to imagine. 

So, what is real life? For that, go back to my book. Oh, yes, look at the first chapter, to assure continuity.

DAY WITHOUT END

CHAPTER TWO

Now with the apple eaten, my body invigorated, my mind pristine, I sit up and it seems to me that my body movement has a double effect, because the fog around me and also within me has gone. Light is shooting out from everywhere, illuminating my surroundings. Within me it generates a strange, new power which seeps through me and makes my body sparkle and glow from top to toe. How wonderful.

My mind starts to race, catching up on lost time. My thoughts go in overdrive, and I close my eyes for just a minute to slow down. My goodness. First confusion, then too much speeding. What’s the matter with me? I tell myself to find a proper balance and take it easy, but that is easier said than done. My entire system is still too much possessed by my former self, but it does not worry me. I actually welcome it, because I know that all things will work out.

And they do. Of course. I now sense that the process is complete, that both body and spirit are in balance. I feel it in the tip of my fingers and in the hairs on my head. I feel it in the nails on my toes, in the crevices of my brain. What a fantastic feeling. I stretch my arms and straighten my legs so that, fully extended, I lie on the warm soil. One last yawn, and I find myself laughing, still oblivious to the presence of that mysterious man. In a flash my thoughts go back to the first day when I was conscripted into the army, trying to adjust to an atmosphere where every minute was regulated, a world of uniformity, of unconditional obedience. What a contrast! Instead of regimentation then, freedom now; instead of learning the vice of destroying then, building and beautifying here.

The association of ‘beauty’ reminds me of Jesus’ words about the flowers of the field, making the meadows more beautiful than Solomon in all his glory. What about me? A garland of flowers on my head and some figs leaves, perhaps? No, not that, but yet, nakedness is somewhat monotonous, even though my skin is a marvel to look at.

I sit up. I see the flowers and they see me. I know they do. I feel an urge to talk to the flowers and tell them about myself. What has gotten into me, I wonder. I never in my life have talked to flowers before. I glance at Cornelius, whom, I think, knows exactly what is going on. Never mind, here things are different. I tell the flowers that I would like to look more festive, and they understand. Unbelievable. Stretching and bending and turning they seem to say, “Pick me, pick me, I am beautiful, my colors suit you. God will love me on you, we are here today and gone tomorrow, so, why not use me?”

They, too, are full of joy, liberated from the dirty air that made them sick and caused many to disappear. Touched by their spontaneous generosity, I carefully and selectively accept their self-sacrifice, gathering flowers and grasses and weaving a skirt and a necklace, Hawaiian fashion.

Confident in my new aromatic dress, I stand up, ready to show myself. The effort is energy-less. I take a step and feel like I’m floating in the air. Wow! I marvel at my fluid movement and love the elasticity of my limbs, so lithe, so flowing, my muscles are so resilient, my joints like well-oiled links. My entire body operates like a perfectly adjusted instrument, tuned to a tautness I never before experienced even at my most physically fit. I dance and leap and jump and run and zigzag just to try out my new body. What an instrument! Unequalled quality! Superb mastery! The soil feels spongy, cushioning my steps, as if the earth gives each step a tiny boost.

Now I am complete, come into my own. I start to sing, beginning a scale as low as I can manage and rising easily two, even three octaves. My voice is pure and beautiful, or so it sounds to me. But, then, perhaps, in my exalted state, am I prone to exaggerate? So what?

I suddenly stop singing, sensing that my voice has awakened the universe. As if shaken out of a deep sleep, I now hear the birds in the trees, the bees in the fields, the wind in the branches, the hum of the insects all tuned in a perfect harmony, singing to our God, Creator and Father.

I have always tried to look after my body because the Scriptures called it the temple of the Holy spirit.

Funny to think that the bible no longer has any significance here. Gone are the written testimonies of the saints of old. Soon I will be able to talk to them and hear from Adam and Abel and Abraham and Zachariah the full story of their lives.

What a change, really. Just as my body is like a feather in the air, like a bird in the sky, totally unfettered, totally at ease, so my mind is totally pure, totally de-tensed, un-fogged, un-burdened, un-spoiled. Eager are my eyes to embrace the excellence of my creator. My ears are attuned to all sorts of sounds and at once I can place their origin.

I hear the call of a bird and I know its shape and color, but not yet its name.

I feel the wind, and am conscious of its intention, whether it will bring a gentle rain or a refreshing breeze. I hear the call of an animal and know its form.

Look there, a deer is approaching me, not shy, not bold, his eyes glancing at me. He nods his head, as if in greeting. He nibbles some pure and succulent grass. I notice an antler shorn off or broken, from mating and carousing. How re-assuring. Their sex instinct is still intact.

Would this apply to humans as well? I had often wondered about the place of sex, of reproduction, in the new creation. If it applies to animals, as I assume, will it then not apply to God’s very image bearers?

Here I am, not even having met another human, and already my thoughts turn to sex and that is also re-assuring. I am still human after all. Would God, in eternity, deprive me of one of the greatest experiences I had in my former life? Of course not.

What shape will this take? I will find out. I am sure that many surprises will come my way. It will take some time to get used to the new me, to learn about myself. But then, what is time? With a smile I recall keeping track of my running time with that silvery watch bought at a Montreal flea market for ten dollars. Now I have all the time in the world. Whether I spend a second or a thousand years to look inside myself, it matters no more. How about this new body of mine? It feels fine now, but will it notice the difference between one hour without food and one year? Or sleep? The air is so pure here that my body probably can do without sleep. Sleep, after all, is a sort of death, a time to forget, a time for restoration, for sorting out in dreams the many conflicting messages we were bombarded with. No, sleep is out.

Light. The Light is everywhere. There does not seem to be a single source of light, but there are myriads of lights. What a treat to again walk in the bright daylight. No radio here to warn me about ultra violet rays. I look up at the sun, its light again like the eye of God, no longer a harbinger of evil.

A soft light encompasses all objects. The deep green trees sway in the soft breeze, their branches bobbing, birds happily hopping on them.

Birds. I’ve never seen so many different ones, some singing, some feeding, all colourful. I walk up to an unusually brilliant one and see a head of deep satiny yellow; at the throat a patch of irreverent green, the breast, the back, the wings a golden brown, and from under the wings long bright red plumes, fanning out behind a large ceremonial cloak. It must be a bird of Paradise, now no longer a waste of beauty, no longer living out its charms in wild, inhospitable areas. Now, unafraid, proud to show off its grandiose splendor, without fear of being caught and caged and sold at a high price. There I spot some sparrows: even these grey birds now shine in a silvery tint.

And then the apple came. I clearly recall it now. It just plunked into my hand as if from nowhere. Where did it come from? Is there an apple tree close by?

April 22 2023

DAY WITHOUT END

Introduction.

Something different. It’s still me, but not my usual lecturing style. This time: some pure fantasy. 

Why?

We face an avalanche of challenges unlike at any other time in history. Climate change is rapidly altering the conditions of life. I deeply believe that we are in the environmental endgame. Add tensions over Ukraine and Taiwan, which have revived the specter of a conflict between nuclear superpowers, as well as the breakneck developments in artificial intelligence, and these events raise serious concerns about the risk of a global catastrophe, which will hit us “like a thief in the night,” will fall on us suddenly.

That’s why I believe it’s time to consider the future. “The future belongs to those who prepare for it”, it is said. What future? Is there a future, a future beyond complete collapse?  

My 65,000 words book, “Day without End”, offers a feeble reflection how I imagine what surely is to come: the promised New Creation. What follows is the opening chapter, with others to follow.

DAY WITHOUT END

CHAPTER ONE

“Eat it.”

That mysterious command jolts me awake and, at once, I notice an apple in my hand and an approaching figure, a man from all indications. How did that apple get there and who is this fellow who knows that I have an apple even before I realize it?

I look at that apple. I glance at that slowly moving creature. Where is the connection? Did he put it in my hand when I was asleep and then sneaked away?

There’s that voice again: “Eat it.” The sound vibrates through the total silence, repeating the words as ripples on a quiet pond: “Eat it, eat it.”

He comes closer and my eyes now find their focus. To me he looks familiar, but I cannot place him. He looks like a long lost relative, like a brother I’ve never known. He is about my height and build, slim and trim. He has strong, flowing hair, slightly disorderly as if the wind has blown through it. His eyes are a deep blue, much bluer than mine. Amazing eyes this man has, penetrating, all-seeing it seems, understanding, full of sparkle. A slight smile hovers over his face, soft, inviting, encouraging.

His nearness makes me feel as comfortable as if he has been my lifelong friend. I’m so amazed, stupidly gazing at him, I forget to follow up on his suggestion, which sounds more like a command.

“Who are you?” I finally say.

He looks straight at me: “My name is Cornelius and I was there when you were born at your parents’ home.”

Was he a doctor, a male midwife? No, impossible. I rub my nose in bewilderment. It all seemed so long ago but his words make me focus on my early days.

“I was assigned to you from the moment you were conceived. I assisted at your birth. You were a big boy and had I not been there, you might not have survived the delivery. Did you know that you suffered damage to your nose when you were born?” I touch my nose again, now consciously, recalling how my nose bone had two curious twists in it. I had always wondered about them.

“You were my special charge on a twenty-four-hour basis. I kept track of all your movements and your thoughts and I have it all here on a video in four dimensions if you like, or in five perhaps, because it not only records what you said, but also what you thought and what you wanted to do, but could not for some reason.”

I still stare at him, the apple lying lamely in my hand. I must look a bit stupid, my mouth agape in amazement. He breaks out in a smile: “Now my job is to simply be a friend to you and introduce you to this new world and some of her new people.”

I stammer, “You, you are my guardian angel? What does that mean? What did you do? How come I never knew? What was your job?” I then blurt out something stupid, the first thing that comes to mind: “Tell me, were you there when I cross-country skied around a bend in the Laurentians and suddenly a huge bull moose stood in my way, his big belly hanging over the trail and the only way for me to clear him was to go between his long legs?”

Cornelius simply nods. I continue, a bit more relaxed now, “I must have tickled his underbody because I shook so much that my back must have felt like a washboard. I remember praying that he would not move. Did you keep him in place there?”

He throws up his hands, as in mock despair, while again nodding in affirmation. “Of course, I did. The second you passed under him, I let go and he bounded away. But take it easy, you have all the time in the world, no rush. And please, do eat that apple.”

I look at the apple and am not quite convinced. Suppose he is a phony. Adam was tricked to eat an apple and we know where it got us all.

Cornelius sees my hesitation and laughs, laughs till the apple shakes in my hand. Finally, he says: “No, don’t worry. This is not the apple of the Paradise Tree and I am not the snake…”

I look at him and know that he speaks the truth. I look at the apple, turning it in my hand. It is no different from any other apple I have ever seen, yet I find it fascinating. Silly, perhaps, but somehow, its red seems redder, its roundness rounder, its firmness firmer. Why am I so captivated by it? I don’t know. I have eaten thousands of apples in my life and I never reacted like this. Is it because it is the first food item I have touched here? When it landed the impact left a bit of an indentation, a very slight bruise, almost too slight to see. I touch the bruise; I can feel a strange softness, see a faint discoloring, smell the generous apple aroma. So, I take a bite, and another. In a flash I become new. I have never eaten a thing that made me so conscious of what was happening to me. I feel the food flow through my system, the juices enter my intestines. I feel the vitamins revive my being; the calories fuel my somewhat depleted energy level. All my faculties respond to the nourishment. With the food comes a sudden surge of strength, as well as more questions. Is this all true? Is this a dream? I pinch my arm. I feel a slight wave of almost pleasurable pain, if that is possible.

It does the same to my mind. I close my eyes for a moment, and as in fast-forward motion, as if a video was playing before my eyes, I recall the immediate past. With the speed of light, as in a dream, I hear in the far, far distance faint strains of trumpet notes fading away. Then nothing. Complete quiet. Total silence. I see how I hesitantly open my eyes and all I notice is a thin mist. I now revisualize how I closed my eyes to listen to the silence, yet I had the strange notion that the Silence is listening to me.

How perfectly content I am, just being here, asleep, sort of. Dreaming?

Now my mind races back to — to when? An hour ago? A week? A millennium? I don’t know. I clearly recapture how I was on my regular Sunday walk when suddenly there was a blinding light, like lightning. But not one streak, thousands of them, surrounding us with streams of fire flashing to the earth.

Trees were struck, but instead of bursting into flames they simply devolved. Like a rapidly rewinding film they shrank from full-grown to seedlings, dwindling to seeds buried back in the earth. Uncreated. The road along which I walked melted, not into a puddle of hot tar, but right to dust; concrete and asphalt reduced to their basic elements. Cars dissolved, even as they moved. And the people in them? Gone. Evaporated. A little wisp of smoke was all that was left. Or was it a trail of dust?

I didn’t say a word, didn’t even have time to wonder why all this was happening before the intense heat engulfed me, too. There was no pain, no discomfort, just purifying fire. I remember smiling as I faded away. My last glance was toward the sky, where I could see the sun, blackened as if all its fire had descended to earth, and the moon, too, was different: a dark, bloody red. I felt my body glow, and then I fell asleep, warm and cozy. All this was accompanied by glorious sound: the all-pervasive resonance of a trumpet. At least it sounded like the music of a single instrument. Some virtuoso player repeated the same theme in innumerable variations: wake up; reveille; rise from your sleep; the hour has come. It was as if the very energy of God was conveyed in these notes, penetrating to the very bottom of the seas and the very top of the mountain peaks: the universe was simply saturated with this utterly compelling rhythm.

That was then. This is now. Here stands this strangely familiar man looking at me. He knows, I am sure, what is happening to me. And what is that? With new eyes I look at myself. I am totally naked. Not a shred of clothing on my body, but with such a beautifully smooth skin, a healthy pink, who would want them? My tongue travels through my mouth, missing familiar gaps. My teeth are all back in place. That is good news and it does not end there: my normally ribbed and cracked fingernails look polished and manicured, even a little glossy, emanating a healthy gleam. Gone too are the clumsy calcium deposits inside my hands. My nose is still big, and the birthmark is still there below my heart. That too is good news. Yes, it’s me all right. Whoa! I’m not circumcised any more. Now that’s a change!

That sight triggers associations to my first moments in life. I can see the scene of my birth, dangling upside down from the firm grip of the family doctor. “Martha,” the doctor says. “Martha, I wish you well. This was quite the struggle and something of a miracle too. You have another son. Quite a chubby lad.”

I see my mother nod in relieved silence as the doctor places me in a diaper suspended from a spring scale he holds in his hand. No wonder. I check in well over five kilograms. “Only one small problem. His foreskin is too tight. I’ll have to circumcise him to prevent infection later. He’s a good size so I don’t have to wait. Sister, can you fetch my scalpel and sterilize it?” I even experience the pain again, realize that this small operation without anaesthetic has bothered me all my life.

I look at Cornelius, who looks at me in silence, allowing me to reflect. I stretch lazily as my thoughts return to the present. Here I am. But where? I am sure that this angel knows. Am I in the New Creation? It must be. But why just me and this man? If this is the New Creation, then millions of other people must be here, too, but I see no one, hear nothing but that pervasive silence. I never thought it would start like this. So quiet. So peaceful. So different.

Slowly, understanding seeps through me along with the eloquent silence. The Silence expands within me, filling me, driving out the last echoes of the still faintly vibrating noise of my former life. My mind starts to clear. I am still all by myself, have time to calm down, to rid myself of the harried, hectic pace of my former life. The Silence within me tells me that I must gradually ease myself into this forever-land.

I have no idea how long I linger at the edge of eternity, slowly collecting my thoughts, sorting out my feelings and orienting my emotions, forcing myself to unwind. Although my brain still suffers a bit of a brown-out, my mind’s eye not quite focused, and my thinking still somewhat muddled, a few facts are becoming clear to me: I am still me; even better: I am a more perfect me. Am I now The Perfect Me? I wonder.

April 15 2023

IS HALF A TRUTH, A LIE?

All writing is biographical. So…..

In my younger years I sat twice through church-services often lasting close to 2 hours. Then, in those pre-TV days, as a teenager, after the evening customary Catechism sermon, I would attend a young men’s meeting, discussing topics of interest from a biblical perspective, kindling a life-long interest in matters Christian, especially education and politics. 

Today this sounds so old-fashioned and even odd. Yet it gave me a critical and well-founded opinion on church and Christianity.                

A bit more background.

In the Netherlands, before and during the war 1940-45, thanks to such influential leaders as Abraham Kuyper, politics and education became the focus of Christian thinking, resulting in Christian schools from kindergarten to university, first entirely financed by parents. 

My grandparents, born in the 1870’s, sacrificed a portion of their meagre money to make this possible. Thanks to consistent political action, the Dutch government relented and paid for confession-based schooling, starting in the early 1920’s.

In Canada.

I came to Canada in 1951, married my fiancée in 1953, and our first child was born in 1954, with 5 more to follow (one died shortly after birth). They all went to parent-financed Christian schools, just as my grandparents did. Fortunately, from 1952 till today, thanks to carbon-fuels, increasing industrialization engendered ever greater affluence, making the financing of private Christian education possible. 

And the churches?

In the late 1930s, Dietrich Bonhoeffer came to Union Theological Seminary looking for a “cloud of witnesses.” What he found instead disturbed, angered, and perplexed him. “There is no theology here,” he wrote to a German colleague: “They preach about virtually everything; only one thing is not addressed… namely, the gospel of Jesus Christ, the cross, sin and forgiveness, death and life.” 

Bonhoeffer did for American Protestantism what Alexis de Tocqueville, in Democracy in America, did a century prior in his cultural and political analysis of the USA. What Bonhoeffer discovered was, if possible, more significant than the observations of the French aristocrat: Protestantism in America was a “Protestantism without Reformation.”

“Protestantism without Reformation”. 

Pope Francis is a pious and sincere person, who tries to carefully reform his church, but is imprisoned by tradition, a power equally important as the Bible. The same is true for Protestant churches. Their basic message is: God saves our souls and then we go to Heaven. 

But that is a half-truth, which constitutes a lie.

Jesus came to save us as total persons: He taught us how to live in the cosmos which he created and called good SEVEN times. John 3: 16 tells us that, ”God so loved the cosmos, that he sacrificed his Son to buy it back from the Satan”. Believing THAT gives us eternal life, right here on earth.

Revelation 11: 18 is quite explicit. We now experience God’s wrath, evident in the revenge of creation, which God has so structured that harming it carries its own punishment. That text tells us that God will “destroy the destroyers of the earth”, and, I believe, will “reward those who fear God’s name”, those who see Creation as holy, evident from Psalm 24: “The Earth is the Lord’s and all it contains: the trees, the seas, all creatures great and small.”

Psalm 146:7 has words that have long been a mystery to me: “He upholds the cause of the oppressed and gives food to the hungry. The LORD sets prisoners free”, especially that final phrase, “He sets prisoners free.”

I believe that we, in the wealthy West, are prisoners, both of the food system and of carbon energy. For the sake of shelf-life, food is super-refined, robbing it of much of its essential nutrition. Our North American cities, with its suburban layout, can never have a functioning mass transit, so their inhabitants have become slaves to carbon energy.

IS HALF A TRUTH, A LIE?

Often in my long business career people asked me whether I was born again, meaning that Jesus was my Lord and Savior. I simply said yes, but my answer implied Romans 1: 20:

“For since the creation of the world God’s invisible qualities–his eternal power and divine nature–have been clearly seen, being understood from what has been made, so that people are without excuse”.

Salvation includes creation which is God’s Direct and Primary Word, while the Scriptures are God’s Secondary and Indirect Word. Creation is eternal: the Bible is temporary.

“Brother/Sister are you saved?”, is an all- inclusive affair. I believe that God in his mercy will admit to his holy eternal creation those who by their lives have shown it to be of divine origin, expanding the concept of salvation, to include the redemption of the person and of creation: you can’t have one without the other.