Akshay Rajkumar's Blog

After many years of writing on this blog, I've made the move to a new one with more information and new material. Although this remains active, I won't be posting any more articles here. I'm happy to invite you to follow my work at the new blog, akshayrajkumar.com

Organised religion and organised cynicism are both a threat to organic conversations about faith and doubt.
It is unfortunate that the conversations between people of faith in God and people with questions about God are led by religious fundamentalists and angry skeptics; both of whom showcase the excesses of emotion, anger and vested interests in their own conclusions. But between these two extremes of unreasonable conflict lies a moderate middle where mature skeptics and humble believers can engage in meaningful conversation.
My great hope for this life is to drown out the fundamentalists on both sides by creating a culture of healthy inquiry into matters of faith and doubt.
It is assumed by fundamentalists in religious thinking that those who doubt are lacking in something; perhaps character, humility or the capacity for faith. Sometimes that is true, but it is more often a caricature of reality. It is assumed by fundamentalists in non-religious thinking that those with faith are lacking in something; perhaps education, intelligence or the willingness to think reasonably. More often that is true, but it is sometimes a caricature of reality.
It is believed by some that those who are educated will naturally question the dogma of religion, but it is because we are educated that we must question the dogma of education. It is believed by some that those who have faith must naturally reject the spirit of doubt, but it is because we have faith that we must value the earnest cries of doubt.
If our education cannot teach us the difference between the baby and the bathwater—between bad religion and wholesome faith—then our education has failed us or perhaps we have failed our education. If our Bible cannot teach us the difference between the baby and the bathwater—between religious Christianity and the way of Jesus—then our faith has failed us or perhaps more rightly, we have failed our faith.
Western missionaries told us what we should believe about Jesus until western philosophers told us what we should not believe about Him. We believed them both too quickly. If the “uneducated” have quickly believed in bad religion, we must wonder why the “educated” have quickly accepted suspicion of faith as the natural alternative when there is a third way to think about all things faith.
It is because we have reason that we can appreciate faith. It is because we have faith that we must think reasonably.
I have had conversations with sincere Christians who refuse to see the difference between Jesus and their fear-based, guilt-driven religion and continually use the words of God to justify the wickedness of men. I have had conversations with angry skeptics who use exclusive language to condemn exclusivity and dogmatic tones to question dogma. They are both difficult, ineffective and unproductive conversations.
Fortunately, I have had meaningful conversations with mature skeptics who appreciate the beauty of an honest exchange of ideas and I have had interesting conversations with religious Christians who have turned away from the burden of religion to walk in the way of Jesus. The doubts of skeptics who turn away from anger have inspired my faith and their questions deepen my experience of God. The courage of Christians who turn away from religion have given me joy and their stories embody my hope for the world.
Such conversations are an enriching reality that ought to be the norm, but these are conversations that will not sell in mainstream media because they do not possess the drama, the excess and the conflict that drives internet traffic, television ratings or book sales. But perhaps these are conversations that are not meant for mainstream media. Perhaps they are best enjoyed in living rooms and cafes, over a warm meal or a hot cup of coffee. Then perhaps, the middle can drown out the noisy extremes on either side with an inquisitive mind in a mature conversation with a humble hunger for the truth and even possibly, a good laugh.




Read more about Faith and Doubt in The Whistler in the Wind By Akshay Rajkumar
Get it now on Amazon

We have seen the abuse of power in the age of faith. We have worn the cloak of despair in the age of reason. Perhaps now we can know the power hope in a new age of reasonable faith.
The age of faith showed us that religion and power are like chemicals that cause chaos when they are combined. History testifies to their unhappy marriage and its inevitable offspring of abuse. But the age of reason that followed gave us promises of an age of wholeness that never came, while we remain haunted by the longing for more meaning than the material world can give us. Neither the age of faith nor the age of reason have been able to suppress the hint of something more—something that we can sense but we cannot see, something that we can feel but we cannot name.
The age of faith (600 to 1500 A.D.) was further way from the object of its faith than at any other time in history. Self-righteousness is the furthest distance that a person can keep from God. This was the distance between God and people in the age of faith. We went our own way, twisting reality that gave us a hopeful future, to create a religion that gave us a regrettable past. We took the name of God in vain.
The age of reason (1700 A.D. to present day) was right to reject the abusive power of religion, but it could not silence the cry of the soul for more than the material. It told us that we came from matter, we live as matter, we will return to matter and nothing else matters. But some of us know that we are more than merely molecules in motion; so we search for who we are, we wonder why we hate each other and we want to know how to turn this ship around.
Reason was rejected in the age of faith and faith was condemned in the age of reason. At the beginning of the 20th century, we can hope towards a new end—perhaps an age of reasonable faith, a pattern that was always the plan for human flourishing.
The first challenge to the church did not come from the age of reason, but from Jesus, the Head of the church. Long before the church was birthed, He warned us of false prophets and deceitful disciples, offering Himself as a credible alternative to power-hungry religion that was built on a weak foundation of self-righteousness.
He is the still-living moral point of reference that gives the church an internal compass with far more authority and credibility than any voice that emerged out of the age of reason, as important as they might be.
In the age of reasonable faith, thinking and faith will not be competitors. They will serve each other because they belong together and cannot survive without the other.
Anne Hathaway, in interviews about her new movie Interstellar, has been quoting Albert Einstein: "Science without religion is lame, religion without science in blind."
In his reflections on Interstellar Krish Kandiah, president of London School of Theology, the largest interdenominational, evangelical theological college in Europe says, "The best science recognises human beings as more than just collections of cells. It values a holistic approach to human identity that has room for the contribution that spirituality plays in human flourishing. The best approaches to faith recognise that humanity was created to explore, experiment, discover and reflect on creation. Christianity has played a major role in the formation of the scientific method of the Western world and science has contributed huge advancements that can help the Church play its part in God's plans for the universe. Let's pray for a clear sighted Church and an agile and active science that draw on the best of each other."
We are reasonable beings made in the image of a reasonable being. A thinking God invites us to love Him by thinking. A reason that does not appreciate faith struggles to find reason for its reasoning. A mind that does not appreciate thinking offers incomplete worship with an unloving mind.
Faith and reason are like star-crossed lovers, whose fathers do not want them to be together. But the self-seeking desires of these fathers must give way to the original design of a greater Father. The age of faith and the age of reason must give way to a new age of reasonable faith so that the sins of our fathers may be roundly overcome by the grand accomplishments of our children. To that end, let us think and let us believe.




Read more from Akshay on Faith and Reason in his book, The Whistler in the Wind—A True Story of Faith and Doubt. Get it now on Amazon.

The more I speak to people who suspect the Bible, the more I find that they have rejected what the Bible condemns. False Christianity will always be at odds with Jesus—the humble and winsome internal compass of the Bible.
I enjoy talking to people who have doubts about the Bible because I understand what it is like to struggle with religious Christianity. My effort in these conversations is to introduce Jesus the way that He introduced Himself—as a credible alternative to the self-righteous, corrupt, power-seeking religion of the Pharisees, which translates easily into many expressions of Christianity today. 
I struggle to express how their “non-Christian” views of religion are really quite Christlike. But perhaps the black hole of religious Christianity is so powerful that it swallows up even the One who first condemned it.
I deeply resonate with the concerns of my friends whose emotions range from seething anger to polite disagreement with fear-based, guilt-driven, duplicitous spirituality that inspires violence, greed, indifference, self-righteousness and self-indulgence. But I always struggle to see why they need to reject Jesus to question these things. I do not feel the need to reject Jesus to reject religious Christianity. In fact, I have more authority to question religious Christianity because I trust in Jesus.
Timothy Keller, author and pastor, points out that when Martin Luther King Jr. spoke out against racist white Americans, who were predominantly Christians, he did not feel compelled to reject Christianity. He did not think that the answer to bad Christianity was less Christianity, but true rather true Christianity. He knew he had to go deeper into Christianity, all the way to Christ, because there He would find the authority and conviction to expose people who took the name of God in vain.
“Somehow the preacher must have a kind of fire shut up in his bones. And whenever injustice is around he tell it. Somehow the preacher must be an Amos, and saith, "When God speaks who can but prophesy?" Again with Amos, "Let justice roll down like waters and righteousness like a mighty stream." Somehow the preacher must say with Jesus, "The Spirit of the Lord is upon me, because he hath anointed me," and he's anointed me to deal with the problems of the poor.”—Martin Luther King Jr.
The suspicion and rejection of religion did not begin with the age of reason. It began with the prophets of the Old Testament—for instance Amos, who is quoted here by Dr. King—and reached its fulfilment in Jesus, who was such a threat to the control of religious people that they called for His crucifixion.
When Christians disobey God it is because we can. It is our God-given right to rebel against Him and twist His words to suit our purposes, breeding a deeper sense of cynicism. But it is our God-given privilege to return to Him as well. Then we can live our lives to serve His purposes, nurturing a culture of hope. I think the most challenging question facing our generation is the choice between  indifference and engagement; between giving up and pressing on; between cynicism and hope.

A risen Jesus is the most true and hopeful thing I know for the world. It is not true because it is hopeful. It is hopeful because it is true.





Have you read The Whistler in the Wind by Akshay Rajkumar?
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Reading a book is like beginning a relationship with a stranger. If it doesn't inspire your interest, you may leave the story unfinished. Reading a good book is like beginning a relationship with a stranger who becomes a friend—a friend who understands you and leaves your soul just a little bit lighter.

As someone who thinks about God, I’m often asked about the writers who have influenced my theology. These are the first that come to mind. Moses, Paul, John, Luke, Matthew, Mark and Isaiah, along with thirty-three others. The only writers I trust are the ones that wrote the Bible. Everyone else, I read with a blend of interest and suspicion. It should be said that the writers of the Bible invite this interest and suspicion. They would like you to be captivated by their message of a risen Man, but not without testing them with truth.
Outside of these ancient literary giants—whose words have shaped the past, subvert contemporary myths and persist in guiding the future—I am particularly interested in those that marry wit to theology because that tells me they enjoy the company of the person they are writing about. Chesterton and Lewis exemplify this joy like no one else I know.
I particularly suspect those who marry doctrine to dogma because that tells me they are afraid of those who disagree with them. Fortunately, it’s not a characteristic of those who wrote the Bible. Paul reasoned with them. Luke wrote history for them. John loved them with all his heart. But these contemporary custodians of dogma cannot suffer the doubts of their dissenters. I will not name these heretics.
In every writer, I look for passion, wonder, reason, truth, beauty and awe; simply because this is what I see in the longing of Job, the movement of the Psalms, the profundity of the Proverbs, the beautiful irony in the narratives, the poetry of the prophets, and the zealous reasoning of Paul.

The great thing about reading a good writer is that this invisible person knows the sound of your soul without really knowing you. She knows this because he is telling the truth and the song they sing satisfies the longing of your heart, even if only for a moment.
In a writer, I look for that one thing which separates a skilled writer from a good one. I look for the courage to tell the truth. None of the writers of the Bible were writing without risk. They did not write to be rich, popular or powerful. They were putting their necks on the line—saying things about God that the religious would condemn, the philosophers would frown upon and the powerful would trample upon. Some of them died for their words. Others were rejected all their lives. All of them bore the heavy burden of the prophetic soul. But they persisted with their passion because they were devoted to that one thing which every writer who is worth his salt should make her mandate. They wrote to tell the truth.
When I meet characters invented by writers, I am not put off by the flawed, the irreverent or the rebellious, for the kingdom of God belongs to such as these. A woman caught in adultery is rescued from the wrath of moralistic chauvinists. A glorious king gives into an affair, conspiracy and murder. A father of nations resorts to being a coward and a liar. A philosophical giant was a persecutor of Christians. The writers of the Bible knew well that the most colourful characters were those whose stories were told honestly, without glossing over their ungodliness. The world of books is not a world for the moral micromanager. Neither is the world of the Bible. God is the first offensive artist. Everything else is imitation.
A good book teases you with the invitation to enter its world. It’s an invitation that can’t be fully answered. But the good book presents you with an author who entered his story—a stranger who became a friend. The Word became flesh and made his dwelling among us. We have seen his glory, the glory of the one and only Son, who came from the Father, full of grace and truth. It’s an intrusion that can’t be fully explained. That’s why an experience is needed. And it is given to those who ask.




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As Christian groups welcome the new Hollywood epic Noah with scathing rebuke for being ‘unbiblical,’ a closer examination of the film shows that its message is more ‘biblical' than that of its religious critics.
Darren Aronofsky—the director of Black Swan, The Wrestler and The Fountain—is described by Rolling Stone Magazine as having a “trademark infatuation with the conflict between the body/mind and the spirit/soul.” In his first biblical epic, Noah, he presents an adaptation of the biblical story that was criticised by Christians in the US, long before any of them had even seen it. But when it was presented to a small group of Christian leaders, many of them changed their minds and began to endorse the film.
Focus on the Family president Jim Daly said, “Darren Aronofsky is not a theologian, nor does he claim to be. He is a filmmaker and a storyteller, and in Noah, he has told a compelling story. It is a creative interpretation of the scriptural account that allows us to imagine the deep struggles Noah may have wrestled with as he answered God’s call on his life. This cinematic vision of Noah’s story gives Christians a great opportunity to engage our culture with the biblical Noah, and to have conversations with friends and family about matters of eternal significance.”
Several scholars and religious leaders have participated in a video about the film—made by Cooke Pictures and posted on vimeo.com—encouraging Christians to see the movie. 
That some of the early criticism was repealed after watching the film should serve as a cautionary tale for jumping to conclusions about things we know nothing about. But the same trend of early criticism is being echoed in India without any signs of a change in mind.
A filmmaker has to make critical choices to make a story compelling—even more so when dealing with a story so far removed from the present and with such limited detail in its primary source. It is true that Aronofsky has taken strange and unexpected artistic liberties in his portrayal of Noah. But these choices are limited to plot points relating to his family, his allies, his enemies and their life on the ark during the flood; and it is these very story-telling choices that make the film so intriguing, dramatic and unpredictable.
A discerning viewer should be able to tell that they do not take anything away from the very biblical message of the wickedness of man, the justice and mercy of God, the new beginning of the world and the powerfully compelling question of what we are going to do, now that we have a second chance.
In an interview with The Atlantic Magazine, Darren Aronofksy said of the story, “It’s poetry that paints images about the second chance we’ve been given, that even though we have original sin and even though God’s acts are justified, He found mercy. There is punishment for what you do, but we have just kind of inherited this second chance. What are we going to do with it?”
Ari Handel, who wrote the script, has said: “The story of Noah starts with this concept of strong justice, that the wickedness of man will soon be met with justice, and it ends when the rainbow comes and it says, even though the heart of man is filled with wickedness, I will never again destroy the world … So it ends with this idea of mercy. God somehow goes from this idea of judging the wickedness to mercy and grace. So we decided that was a powerful and emotional arc to go through, and we decided to give that arc to Noah.”
Noah is not a Christian film, nor has it been made by Christians. That is the reason why it is so strange that it has been criticised for not measuring up to Christian expectations. That is also the reason why it is so compelling that it has presented the wickedness of man—matching it with a call to return to our Edenic calling—with such powerful clarity. But some of its critics have missed that message because they were distracted by minor plot points and unorthodox character portrayals, even though they simply reflect the imagination of the filmmakers without tampering with the message of the Bible.
The real question we should be asking of the film is whether it was made with respect to the essence of the story of Noah. The writer and director have worked on this script for 16 years. The film was made with a budget of $150 million. It features an A-list cast and one of the leading filmmakers of our time. The filmmakers went to great lengths to get the ark built to exact Biblical measurements. The film is visually striking and reflects the work of a gifted storyteller. But more than anything, it succeeds in presenting the chief crisis of humanity—man's rebellion against a gracious God —leaving us with an opportunity to finish the conversation that it has started.
“Movies aren’t meant to preach. Movies aren’t sermons. And so if they can bring up a topic and start conversation—that’s a good movie. And this one made me ask questions,” says Karen Covell, Founder, Hollywood Prayer Network.
The real question we should be asking ourselves is why we are so quick to judge when we ought to be slow to anger. Our message is transformation by grace—not religion and morality. To ask anyone to think like Christ without being moved by His power is like asking the ground to bear crops without planting any seeds. Such insecure religiosity will be quickly recognised by the world as being more 'unbiblical' than the film.
“We have endured 12 to 14 months of irrational criticism and now people are starting to see it and to realize how respectful it is, and how true to the source material it is and how intense of an experience it is in the movie theater, you know, so that’s cool,” Russell Crowe told the Associated Press.
Coming from the prophetic imagination of a skilled filmmaker, we ought to be grateful—not unreasonably critical—that the problem of sin and the mercy of God are presented to the world in such a captivating way. Instead of seeing the tiny problems in the film as obstacles, we need to appreciate the larger message of the Bible in the film as an opportunity to create conversations about the responsibility and privilege we have been given by our Creator to be fruitful and multiply, fill the earth and subdue it. 

Such an opportunity should urge us to explore the questions that the film leaves us with, not demonise the filmmaker for simply doing his job. Anything less will do an injustice to a rare and fascinating presentation of the central conflict in the Bible.
Unless we reassess—dare I say, repent of—our uninformed, knee-jerk reactions to people who try to interact with the Bible, we will continue a pattern of superficial thinking that fails to appreciate honest efforts to unpack the Bible in imaginative ways. We will then present ourselves to a listening world as a community that lacks discernment, imagination, gentleness and respect—the latter of which are central to the way God would have us present the Gospel. Eventually, we will find that we have exchanged God for religion, grace for morality and creativity for thought control. That is a message that the world will rightly find unbiblical.




A more detailed version of this post will be featured in the next issue of Christian Trends Magazine

The Bible has a very strange way of drawing people to itself. It teases you with the promise of eternal life, before it reveals that you must die to yourself. It tempts you with the plans that God has for you, but wants you to trust your desires to His purpose. It lures you in with the assurance of God's favor, but refuses to spare you the bitter pill of pain. It flatters you with the promise that God loves you the way you are, but stubbornly refuses to leave you the way you are.

There is no life in the Bible without dying to yourself.
It begins with the assumption that there is a kind of living which leads to a kind of death, and a kind of dying which leads to the life that is truly life.

There is a living that banks on people and things to make us happy. It's a pursuit of happiness that looks to work, money, sex, power and love to give it life. It often works because those are good things that God gave us in His pleasure. We can be happy enough with them alone, without ever feeling the need for God. But the Bible hangs on the conviction that happiness isn't enough. We weren't made to be happy. We were made to be whole.

To be whole is to live in the likeness of God. The world doesn't need more people who are happy. It needs more people in the likeness of God - just, gracious, loving, truth-tellers and peacemakers.

Once we were in His likeness. Once we were made in the image of God. We were trusted as caretakers of the world, to rule over it in His likeness, with justice, peace, love and truth. But we've not only forgotten who we are, we've forgotten how to rule, so much so that 'rule' is a tarnished word. It's now related to unjust, self-seeking, corrupt, power-hungry people who exalt themselves by exploiting others. But it's a word that was robbed from God and He wants it back.

For that reason, he wants to kill the self-seeking person that lives in us, so that a God-fearing child can be born, who does not need to pursue happiness because it is drawn to him with an unstoppable force. For that reason, the Bible calls us to trade our lives for His life, to die so that we can live, to give up what we cannot keep so that we can gain what we cannot lose, to empty ourselves completely so we can be filled to the measure with all the fullness of God. Then perhaps we might know that His dying is the cure for death and our living is a threat to life. Then perhaps we will find the life that we have lost in living. Then perhaps we will know the life that is truly life.

Matthew 6:33, "But seek first his kingdom and his righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well."

Science and the Bible don't speak for themselves. They need theologians and scientists to do the talking for them. But the conversation between the two has done more damage than good and created more conflict than peace, when it's possible that both are quite happy to live and let live.

When a theologian tells me that Genesis can only lead to six-day creationism, I think that's a poor interpretation of the Bible. When a scientific-minded person tells me that evolution can only lead to atheism, I think that's a poor interpretation of science.

A scientifically-minded person may accept the evolutionary theory because that's what science tells him. But when he takes it to mean that God does not exist, he has begun to say things that science does not say. He has left science and leapt into philosophy, while trying to convince us that science is the one doing all the talking.

A theological person may accept that God exists because that's what the Bible tells her. But when she takes it to mean that evolution isn't true, she has begun to say things that the Bible does not say. She has left theology and leapt into science, while trying to convince us that God is doing all the talking.

Most of the conflict between science and faith is perpetuated by people who take one of these two positions. I don't think either view does justice to the Bible or to science. I can't speak for scientifically-minded people who are represented by atheistic scientists; but as a Christian, I feel misrepresented by dogmatic creationists who equate faith in God with suspicion of science.

I don't offer a challenge to the idea that evolution is true, but I do contest the idea that the Bible is incompatible with evolution. I don't offer a challenge to the idea that six-day creationism is true, but I do contest the idea that evolution is incompatible with the Bible.

In an interview with El Mundo, newly crowned Nobel Laureate, Peter Higgs argued that although he was not a believer, he thought science and religion were not incompatible. He said, "The growth of our understanding of the world through science weakens some of the motivation which makes people believers. But that's not the same thing as saying they're incompatible." He also said, "I don't happen to be one [a religious believer] myself, but maybe that's just more a matter of my family background than that there's any fundamental difficulty about reconciling the two."

Alvin Platinga is described by TIME Magazine as 'America’s leading orthodox Protestant philosopher of God.' In an interview with Christianity Today, he said, "What Christianity tells us, what theistic religion generally tells us, is that God has created the world and created human beings in his image. He could have done that through a variety of means. And that point goes all the way back to the 19th century. Some of the Princeton theologians—Charles Hodge, for example—said exactly that shortly after Darwin's theory of evolution appeared. It's not a new thought at all."

There is a place for faith and science to be friends. There is a better conversation than the tired history of the alleged conflict between science and the Bible, perpetuated by people to exploit a rivalry that doesn't really exist. Both science and faith invite thinking people to a responsible philosophy that makes room for the two of them to coexist, peacefully. If our thinking can begin with what unites us, then perhaps our hearts will begin to be more loving; and our faith, or science, may be a little more inviting.

Prayer is a bit like time travel. When you enter the reality of prayer, you are entering the future. In prayer, you create the world that you want to see in the world you've left behind. When you step out of prayer, you find that you've traveled back in time where the future you created with God remains to come into being.

The praying Christian lives in multiple realities and different time zones. He is tempted to believe that what he sees around him is real. But she has to remind herself that the world she lives in is a passing chapter, waiting to make way for the world she has called into being in prayer. He is drawn to despair because what he saw in the future can't be found in the present. But she has to remind herself that the unseen reality, which was revealed in prayer, will come into view when its time.

The praying Christian is always one step ahead of the world. She doesn't get distracted because she knows where history is heading. He doesn't get discouraged because his eyes are fixed on the unseen.

Prayer is not merely a conversation with God about personal matters. It's a call to take hold of a greater reality and drag it into the present. It's an invitation to step into the future and create the world we want to live in.

God wants to show the future to people who close their eyes.




"The LORD confides in those who fear him; he makes his covenant known to them," Psalm 25:14

Christianity can't afford to be short-sighted. The eyes are important to God. Job made a covenant with them. David lifted them to the hills and Jesus labeled them the lamp of the body. The stubborn don't know how to make use them. The faithful fix them on Jesus and the heroes of the faith used them to wait for a future city.

The Bible moves from a garden to a city because that was always the plan. It was the way history was going to move forward, even before the folly of the first couple. But creation, as it is today, isn't what it was yesterday nor what it will be tomorrow.

But the writers of the Bible don't bother to prove that this life is not all there is to reality. Even the great religions of the world are built on that assumption. Still, while we are peering outside into the great unknown, looking for signs of life, the audacious announcement of the Bible is that Someone on the outside is looking in.

The Bible brings history to the place where the Creator enters His story, bearing the form of the created and the image of the Creator; the image He came to recreate in us. The author writes Himself into his story, as the only one who can rewrite its characters into those who will direct the way the story unfolds.

The cry of every protester, activist, reformer and concerned citizen is the cry for a better world. The announcement of the Gospel is that this world is already here. But, like a seed that has just been planted, it remains in the ground, slowly snaking its way to the surface.

The cheeky promise of the Bible is that, one day, this seed will turn into a tree so big that it will be home to every bird in the sky, with fruit that is good and rest that doesn't wane.

Pity the fool who can't see beyond the smokescreen of this loud and present reality. The psalmist's fool "who says in his heart: 'There is no God'" is not the earnest atheist, refusing the world behind the curtain. It's the ritualistic, religious, short-sighted Christian who doesn't live for the world to come because he can't see past the one in front of him.

"By your hand, save me from such people, LORD, from those of this world, whose reward is in this life"

There is a reality woven into the fabric of this one which points to a reality beyond it. We see it but we can't perceive it. We feel it but we can't describe it. We know it but we can't understand it. We desire it but we don't know where to find it.

After the death of Jesus, two men were going to a village called Emmaus, discussing the strange things that happened over the weekend. A dead man was allegedly alive again. Their conversation was interrupted by the only one visiting Jerusalem who didn't know what had happened.

But after a long walk, a conversation and a rebuke, it becomes obvious that they were the ones who didn't know what had happened - until their eyes were opened. Then they recognized him. The rumors were true. The dead man was alive and their eyes had seen him.

The story was written for us, hoping that more eyes would be opened, more hearts would turn and more people would seek a reward in the life to come, not just in the one today. A risen Jesus confirms the coming of a new creation, a city with foundations, whose architect and builder is God.

The new creation promised in the Bible is expected to make this one seem like a rolled up old garment that nobody wants to wear. But it's given to those who can see it. The hardest thing to do with our eyes is to lift them - beyond the known, past the present, into the future - to see the invisible and live for the intangible. Then, like the men going to Emmaus, our eyes will be opened and our hearts will burn when we see the dead man who lives again.