Why the Christian Vision Matters
I've been living alone on the top of a tall mountain for years ... figuratively speaking. I climbed up here to get a better view of the big picture, but now real life and the real world seem out of reach.
I've always wanted to see more of my environment; to get a better vantage point, so to speak. Ever since I was a kid, I made sure I got the window seat on planes. When I can see more, the vision becomes clearer. That's the logic of it all, anyway. What that vision is exactly, well, it's still not that clear. But I'm learning that, paradoxically, there comes a point when seeing more---and seeing things more clearly---requires zooming in.
When I zoom in, I notice that the vision I've been after is the Christian imagination. It is the life source of our civilization. When we are cut off from it, our society begins to decay. C.S. Lewis' words on hope from his book Mere Christianity come to mind:
“If you read history you will find that the Christians who did most for the present world were just those who thought most of the next.”
The hope of bringing heaven to earth made life worth living for the saints. The incarnation of Christ---his descension from heaven to earth---is the archetype for every heavenly vision we hope to bring to life. Christ is the vision, the image of God, the imagination of God sent from heaven to earth. No one can incarnate their words as perfectly as God did through the life of Christ, but we can at least walk the walk instead of just talking the talk. We can spend our whole lives working to make our words more of a reality. We can live with integrity, integrating what we say into the lives we live.
Good writers have lived with that purpose for centuries. Often, they did it the other way around: They lived their lives in pursuit of their vision, and then wrote about their experience. That passion for their vision make their words live on well past the years they were given on earth.
I was climbing a mountain to nowhere, not even knowing that I was climbing, not even knowing where I was going. I simply saw something majestic in the distance, so I went toward it. It was very abstract and obscure at first. But as it came into focus, only then did it begin to resemble the great snow-capped Christian vision of heaven, with its streams flowing from its summit into every area of life.
What once appeared distant and disconnected from reality now reveals itself as the source from which everything else flows—our work, our communities, our lifestyles, and our aspirations. Eventually, I began to see how the vision touches and nourishes everything around it, bringing life to the world below.
Most people work in that tangible world. It's the valley and it's lush, fertile soil makes it full of opportunity. Towns and cities spring up because it's rich in resources and has more navigable terrain than the mountain.
But the valley depends on the mountain. The valley needs the mountain. Society needs visionaries who keep their eyes on heaven. But, like mountains, visionaries are often cold and distant. Their rough terrain makes them more inaccessible than specialists.
The mountain is not better than the valley. Both need each other. Without visionaries, specialists become short-sighted. Without specialists, the vision of visionaries remains abstract and intangible. Without specialists, visionaries can easily become naive idealists. Without visionaries, specialists can easily become hopeless realists.
That is why we need the hope of heaven guiding us. This hope keeps us on the quest for truth, goodness, and beauty. The Christian imagination is rich with centuries of artists, writers and scientists who have shared what they found while on that quest. Christianity alone brings heaven into clearer view, because it dares to say that truth, goodness, and beauty do exist and they are worth finding.
David Kilby is editor of Rambling Spirit and managing editor of Catholic World Report. He is the author of three books: The Last Rambler, A Guide for Rambling Spirits, and Jesus Draws Near: Sunday Gospel Lectio Divinas.
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