The shining prepositions

Several weeks back the gathering word in our unprogrammed time of worship came from 2 Corinthians 4 and contained this verse:

For God who said, “Let light shine out of darkness,” has shined in our hearts to give the light of the knowledge of the glory of God in the face of Jesus Christ (2 Cor. 2:4).

I responded in two ways. The first was amazement at the scope of what Paul is saying, almost to the point of incredulity. Secondly, my professional editorial self kicked in and I thought, “You can’t string together five propositional phrases. That’s not good writing. At least not in English.” That’s true. If I found that many prepositional phrases all in one line, I’d re-write the sentence.

But here you have it. Creator God, the one who said, “Let there be light,” shines that light into our hearts to give an incredible gift:

The light
--of the knowledge
--of the glory
--of God
--in the face
--of Jesus Christ.

And I’m not about to edit any of it out.

Actually in Greek, there is only one prepositional phrase and four possessive nouns (genitive case, for you Greek scholars). In other words, God shines into our hearts the light pertaining to the knowledge that pertains to the glory that belongs to God in the face (the lone prepositional phrase) that belongs to Jesus. Technically, it still seems to need some editing.

Beyond the technicalities, I continue to bask in the amazement. It’s simply too big to take in with my mind. But I feel my heart expanding.

What is it exactly that God beams into our hearts? Basically, it’s knowledge. The knowledge of God’s glory. This has to be a knowledge that goes beyond rational possession of information. It’s experiential, intuitive, deep-level revelation, the how-can-this-be-true sense of wonder at something utterly beyond and above us.

“The glory of God.” Perhaps we’ve heard and repeated that phrase so much we’ve become immune to the wonder. The glory of God—the beauty, might, mystery, majesty of the Creator—a theme that runs through the Scriptures from that first “Let there be light” to the final vision of the glorious city with her shining King. A theme that runs through creation, that roars in the oceans, whispers through the trees, teases us with hints of more in all the mountain wildflowers of all the far and near places in all the world. The glory of God.

And how do we have access to the knowledge/experience of this glory? It comes as we gaze at the face of Jesus Christ. Intimacy with Jesus opens us up to the shining gift.

How can this be? How can I just keep walking around, conversing with people, eating sandwiches, opening and closing drawers just as though life should go on as normal, when I know of the very real possibility that God will zap my heart with the knowledge of glory. Is possibly doing it right now. I think of the line from ee cummings’ poem about the good Samaritan who lifted the wounded man into his arms and “staggered banged with terror through a million billion trillion stars.” That seems like a more appropriate reaction.

Yet life does go on as normal. And I’m glad, not yet being prepared to handle too much glory. I think of all that’s happened since my last blog:

--the media images of the killing of Osama Bin Ladin, scenes of people rejoicing in the streets of New York and numerous small towns across our nation, and my mixed reactions—patriot, Quaker pacifist, compassionate missionary;

--a week of work both stimulating and tedious, interacting with students, preparing documents, getting ready for a trip;

--time with family, celebrating the 16th birthday of my granddaughter, long phone conversations with my daughter on how she’s dealing with her son’s autism, early morning walks with Hal.

All of the ordinariness and holiness of life. Normal, common life in a small town on planet earth. But it’s here where that amazing, shining string of prepositional phrases begins to operate. God, shining into my heart, the light

--of the knowledge
--of the glory
--of God
--in the face
--of Jesus Christ.

Oh, my Lord, how can this be?