First Time for Everything

I'm giving in and starting a blog... I know it's the trendy thing to do, but in reality, I'm doing it because I need your help. I'm hoping that I can share my gestating ideas regarding the intersection of imagination, theology and the arts, and dialogue with those who might be interested in reading those thoughts, hoping for help in finding my blind spots and the unintentional negatives my thoughts might be leaning toward.

The name of the blog might seem a bit daunting at first. You may say "God isn't about darkness." I suppose you are right, and I believe correct to feel the tension in the title, it's intentional. God is about glorifying God, the means by which God does that is what is of interest to me, thus the title, which is nicked from an early 80's Christmas medition by Hans Urs Von Balthasar (who has possibly the most pretentious name in the history of theology, and that's saying something). As an introduction I will post a portion of that meditation below. I suppose it's as good a starting point as any in kicking this off:


"But who will step out along this road that leads from God's glory to the figure of the poor Child lying in the manger? Not the person who is taking a walk for his own pleasure. He will walk along other paths that are more likely to run in the opposite direction, paths that lead from the misery of his own existence toward some imaginary or dreamed-up attempt at a heaven, whether of a brief pleasure or of a long oblivion. The only one to journey from heaven, through the world, to the hell of the lost, is he who is aware, deep in his heart, of a mission to do so; such a one obeys a call that is stronger than his own comfort and his resistance. This is a call that has complete power and authority over my life; I submit to it because it comes from a higher plane than my entire existence. It is an appeal to my heart, demanding the investment of my total self; its hidden, magisterial radiance obliges me, willy-nilly, to submit. I may not know who it is that so takes me into his service. But one thing I do know: if l stay locked within myself, if I seek myself, I shall not find the peace that is promised to the man on whom God's favor rests. I must go. I must enter the service of the poor and imprisoned. I must lose my soul if I am to regain it, for so long as I hold onto it, I shall lose it. This implacable, silent word (which yet is so unmistakable) burns in my heart and will not leave me in peace.
In other lands there are millions who are starving, who work themselves to death for a derisory day's wage, heartlessly exploited like cattle. There too are the slaughtered peoples whose wars cannot end because certain interests (which are not theirs) are tied up with the continuance of their misery. And I know that all my talk about progress and mankind's liberation will be dismissed with laughter and mockery by all the realistic forecasters of mankind's next few decades. Indeed, I only need to open my eyes and ears, and I shall hear the cry of those unjustly oppressed growing louder every day, along with the clamor of those who are resolved to gain power at any price, through hatred and annihilation. These are the superpowers of darkness; in the face of them all our courage drains away, and we lose all belief in the mission that resides in our hearts, that mission that was once so bright, joyous and peace bringing; we lose all hope of really finding the poor Child wrapped in swaddling clothes. What can my pitiful mission achieve, this drop of water in the white-hot furnace? What is the point of my efforts, my dedication, my sacrifice, my pleading to God for a world that is resolved to perish?
From a worldly point of view everything may seem very dark; your dedication may seem unproductive and a failure. But do not be afraid: you are on God's path. "Be not afraid; for behold, I bring you Good News of a great joy... This day is born the Savior", that is, he who, as Son of God and Son of the Father, has traveled (in obedience to the Father) the path that leads away from the Father and into the darkness of the world. Behind him omnipotence and freedom; before, powerlessness, bonds and obedience. Behind him the comprehensive divine vision; before him the prospect of the meaninglessness of death on the Cross between two criminals, Behind him the bliss of life with the Father; before him, grievous solidarity with all who do not know the Father, do not want to know him and deny his existence. Rejoice then, for God himself has passed this way! The Son took with him the awareness of doing the Father's will. He took with him the unceasing prayer that the Father's will would be done on the dark earth as in the brightness of heaven. He took with him his rejoicing that the Father had hidden these things from the wise and revealed them to babes, to the simple and the poor. "I am the way", and this way is "the truth" for you; along this way you will find "the life". Along "the way" that I am you will learn to lose your life in order to find it; you will learn to grow beyond yourselves and your insincerity into a truth that is greater than you are. From a worldly point of view everything may seem very dark; your dedication may seem unproductive and a failure. But do not be afraid: you are on God's path. "Let not your hearts be troubled: believe in God; believe also in me." I am walking on ahead of you and blazing the trail of Christian love for you. It leads to your most inaccessible brother, the person most forsaken by God. But it is the path of divine love itself. You are on the right path. All who deny themselves in order to carry out love's commission are on the right path."

Taken from:
http://www.godspy.com/faith/Setting-Out-into-the-Dark-with-God-A-Christmas-Sermon-for-a-Troubled-World-by-Hans-Urs-von-Balthasar.cfm

I really like this as a starting point. It's a very thoughtful medition on the what the incarnation means to us, and what it means for our action in the world. What does it look like for us to imitate Christ's incarnation? Is there a portion of the Christian experience, namely a certain joy that can't be experienced until we begin to live in this incarnational way? I want to say yes based on the meditation and scripture, but that appears to mean that there is a portion of the intended Christian experience that is off limits to much of the American culture, if not all of western culture, and that's a frightenting thought. So that's where I'll leave it now, with a question and a frightening thought, but that's just my style I suppose.