Readings: Mark 10:46-52, Secrets of Heaven 4063:2-3 (see below)
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We talk alot about spiritual growth in our tradition, about the spiritual work we do to regenerate ourselves, which involves looking at ourselves with honesty and courage. We are called to note all the ways in which we might act from selfishness, when we are tempted to put what *we* want above all other things. Our selfish desires can lead us astray, away from connection, community, and the common good. And so, it is important to be able to view our desires with clarity and healthy distance, so that they don’t control us. 

But that doesn’t mean that our desires—what we want—should always be viewed with suspicion. In our text for today, Bartimaeus desired something very strongly. He wanted to speak to Jesus so very much that he raised a ruckus. As he approached, Jesus asked him a question. “What do you want me to do for you?” Clearly, Jesus would have been able to see that Bartimaeus was blind. He needn’t have asked and he could have healed him without a word. But it seemed important for Jesus to know something of the man’s desire, to know what was driving him. He asked him, what do you want? Bartimaeus said “I want to see.” 

Now, contrast this with the previous episode, one we didn’t hear in our reading today but was the lectionary reading last week: a request to Jesus from the disciples James and John. These were brothers who came to Jesus and said “Teacher, we want you to do for us whatever we ask.” Such an arrogant demand, it seems hardly believable. Jesus, with admirable restraint, simply asks them, the same as he will soon ask Bartimaeus, “What do you want me to do for you?” He knew these boys; he loved and chose them, and we imagine he knew much of their misguided enthusiasm and their stubborn misunderstanding. So, in an attempt to guide them, he tries to zero in on their desire, which they willingly laid bare. “Let one of us sit at your right and the other at your left in your glory.”  One wouldn’t be surprised if they followed up that request with a “Bro” or a fist bump. The gospel doesn’t capture Jesus’ exasperated sigh. But he would have been entitled to at least one, after a solid four biblical pages of teaching them about the relinquishment of power, the necessity of sacrifice, the value and belovedness of the least among them. They still didn’t get it. But Bartimaeus did. He didn’t want power, he didn’t want glory, he just wanted to see, and casting aside his cloak, his only possession, he used that sight to follow Jesus on the way.

Jesus knew that what we want matters. He ultimately tells Bartimaeus that his faith healed him, but Jesus understood that faith is empty, impossible in fact, without desire. It was one of Swedenborg’s main criticisms of the Christianity of his time; that faith had become nothing but saying the right words, a confession of the right precepts, utterly empty without the desire to serve and grow, and utterly perverse filled *with* the desire for the self and for power. James and John *said* they had faith in Jesus but they were still driven by a desire for glory and eminence. And that wasn't the kind of faith that Jesus was working to inspire in them. Bartimaeus’ request for sight was a personal and perhaps selfish one. But what did he do with sight once he had it? Even when given the freedom to “go” he follows Jesus instead. What we desire affects *how* we see and ultimately *what* we do.

Swedenborg writes in his book Divine Providence: our whole spirit is desire and its consequent thought, and our thinking flows from the desires of our love.(1) Spiritual, heavenly desires, driven by a love for what is true and what is good, these are what animate our life and open us up to inflow from God. God cannot flow into anything else. So, it is not surprising that Jesus would ask Bartimaeus about something so important. He didn’t want to impose something, even a healing, upon him without knowing that it resonated with Bartimaeus’ deepest self. God’s action with us is always in partnership, always with the utmost respect for our autonomy and our freedom. We are made in an image and likeness of God, and our very wanting of more, more insight, more love and more resonant action our part, is that which brings us more fully into that image and likeness. Our desires remake us, our desires regenerate us.

But, there is of course a reason that desire is often thought of in negative terms and that’s because desire can indeed be destructive, unthinking, and consuming. The craving for power in James and John was preventing them from absorbing Jesus’ clear message to them. Without interrogating that desire within themselves they weren’t going to be able to follow Jesus where he was going, to the cross and to the resurrection.

And yet, as mixed-up as they were, they *were* following him. None of us can have perfect heavenly desire. We are all works in progress, we are all bundles of mixed motivations.  And this is entirely appropriate for angels-in-training. In our Swedenborg reading for today, we are introduced to the idea of intermediate good. These are desires, motivations, and goals that are not *entirely* heavenly but can lead us on the way, that can power our process. The message of Israel’s redemption, for example, and the message of the existence of a kingdom of God attracted James and John. Even if they muddled it up with their personal ideas of glory, they were still there listening to Jesus, and there was a chance for them to evolve.

We can think of examples from the personal and social realm: we might have a desire to take care of those who we love. This is absolutely a good thing; it builds us in the practice of service and hard work, and it builds in us the practice of emotional connection. But, it only serves as an intermediate good if we stop there, if we choose *only* to take care of those we love and not anyone else. The love of taking care of those around us is a stepping stone to the love of taking care of all people. We learn the value and beauty of humanity by seeing it first in the eyes of our loved ones from our tender ages; the trick is then to transfer that value and beauty to people that we don’t know and love personally. This is the more heavenly desire; to wish for, and work for, the dignity, safety, and thriving of all people, not just our own people.

This is why our wanting is important to God. All desire communicates something. Some desires tell us about what we hope for, about ways to connect and serve, and God will infill and grow these heavenly desires for us. Some desires tell us about our fears and our doubts, and God holds those gently, attempting to draw us away from fear and into the knowledge that greater love will always prevail. We remember: what we ultimately love will affect how we see and what we see. The desire for clarity and sight led Bartimaeus to see Jesus as someone he should urgently follow. Conversely, the desire for power led James and John to see Jesus as someone who could and would grant them a preeminent position. For us right now, the fear about whether there is enough to go around, the desire for self-preservation, might lead us to see immigrants at the border as dangerous rather than desperate people fleeing political persecution and poverty. Our desire to be greater than others might lead us to see nationalism and white supremacy as mere patriotism. In our relationships, our fear of conflict might convince us it is better to dissemble and avoid, our fear of rejection might lead us to see vulnerability and authenticity as humiliating. When we find ourselves trapped inside fearful desires, God will ask us: what do we want? What do we want ultimately? Do we want true clarity, courage, honesty, compassion, connection, love, meaning, or peace? Then God *will* lead us there. But it will take time, and it will take our willingness to see our desires for what they really are. To see the selfish, fearful desires and be willing to let them go, to see the mixed up intermediate desires and be willing to let them evolve.

Bartimaeus is often lifted up as ideal vision of discipleship, specifically in contrast to James and John. But our teaching from Swedenborg, while underscoring the importance of heavenly desire, also gives us hope for these brothers. We know that their story didn’t end there.  They were learning and growing, not just through teaching but through hardship as well. God brought them through intermediate states into a higher heavenly state, one that truly understood the nature of the kingdom of God, eventually.  And so there is hope for all of us. We are all Bartimaeus and we are all James and John, still on the journey.
Amen.

(1) Divine Providence 61.

Readings:

Mark 10:46-52

46 Then they came to Jericho. As Jesus and his disciples, together with a large crowd, were leaving the city, a blind man, Bartimaeus (which means “son of Timaeus”), was sitting by the roadside begging. 47 When he heard that it was Jesus of Nazareth, he began to shout, “Jesus, Son of David, have mercy on me!” 48 Many rebuked him and told him to be quiet, but he shouted all the more, “Son of David, have mercy on me!” 49 Jesus stopped and said, “Call him.”So they called to the blind man, “Cheer up! On your feet! He’s calling you.” 50 Throwing his cloak aside, he jumped to his feet and came to Jesus. 51 “What do you want me to do for you?” Jesus asked him. The blind man said, “Rabbi, I want to see.” 52 “Go,” said Jesus, “your faith has healed you.” Immediately he received his sight and followed Jesus along the road.

Secrets of Heaven 4063:2-3
…When someone is being regenerated the Lord maintains them in an intermediate kind of good, a good which serves to introduce genuine goods and truths. But once those goods and truths have been introduced, that intermediate good is separated from them. Anyone who knows anything at all about regeneration and about the new self can appreciate that the new self is entirely different from the old, for the new self has an affection for spiritual and celestial matters since these constitute their feelings of delight and blessedness, whereas the old self's affections are for worldly and earthly things…The new self's ends in view therefore lie in heaven, whereas the old self's lie in the world…

[3] So that a person may be led from the state of the old self into that of the new, worldly passions have to be cast aside and heavenly affections assumed. This is effected by countless means known to the Lord alone…When therefore a person is converted from an old self into a new one, that is, when they are regenerated, it does not take place in an instant as some people believe, but over many years. Indeed the process is taking place throughout the person's whole life right to its end…Since therefore their state of life has to be changed so drastically they are inevitably maintained for a long time in an intermediate kind of good which partakes both of worldly affections and of heavenly ones. And unless they are maintained in that intermediate good they in no way allow heavenly goods and truths into themselves.

Readings: Psalm 111:1-10, Luke 17:11-19, Heaven & Hell #404 (see below)
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Well, it is only just halfway through October, but let’s get a jump on Thanksgiving shall we? Because, the story that we have heard from the bible today is all about gratitude. Jesus is traveling along the border between Samaria and Galilee. He meets ten lepers and heals them. It is interesting how it happens. They are not healed in Jesus’ presence; he sends them to see the priest and it says “as they went, they were cleansed.” They suddenly found themselves healed when they didn’t quite expect it. Yet, nine of them continued on their way, only one turned around and returned to Jesus to thank him. Jesus feigns surprise, and makes sure to point out that the one practicing gratitude is a Samaritan, an enemy of his fellow Judeans. Jesus has already told the story of the Good Samaritan a few chapters earlier, and this story drives home his point: we should be wary of the walls we erect between ourselves and others, for if we pay attention it is the Samaritan, the one the Judeans call “enemy” who is actually loving God and loving the neighbor as Jesus is teaching. This Samaritan’s gratitude is lifted up as a model.

Now, I did not grow up with a Thanksgiving holiday, and I’ve very much come to appreciate the tradition of setting a day aside to give thanks for our blessings in community. Perhaps the practice is as simple as saying grace at a feast, perhaps it is the practice of going around a table to say one thing we are grateful for, perhaps it is a yearly inventory of our blessings. Gratefulness is an important practice.

I do want to dive a little deeper and ask: Why though? Why is Thanksgiving so many people’s favorite holiday? Why is the practice of gratitude often so restorative? Why do we teach our children to say “thank you” when someone does something for them?

Certainly, it is a nice thing to do, it seems the right thing to do—but why is that? I believe it is because it is an acknowledgment that we exist in community, that we rely upon each other. It is the acknowledgement of the existence of someone else, whose action made an impact upon us in some way, It is an acknowledgment that we are not islands but strands of a grand and beautiful web. Gratitude connects us to each other and to reverence.

Reverence, in the words of philosopher Paul Woodruff, is the recognition of something greater than the self.(1) Gratitude is one of the easiest and most important ways we enter into the experience of reverence. When we say thank you, we bring ourselves into the recognition of someone apart from the self, recognition of a need that we could not fulfill on our own, and therefore, a recognition that the self is not all-important or all-capable. 

Or in the words of Rev. Barbara Brown Taylor “reverence stands in awe of something—something that dwarfs the self, that allows human beings to sense the full extent of our limits—so that we can begin to see one another more reverently as well.” (2)

This is essentially what we are doing here in church. God does not need our praise. God does not desire it. We heard that in our Swedenborg reading. We are here however, to be reverent, meaning to willingly let go of the primacy of self, and to consciously look outside of ourselves to see what else there might be, whether that be God, or community, or beauty, or insight, or countless other things.

And when we notice and/or receive these things, these gifts, church gives us an opportunity to fall on our knees in thankfulness that we are not alone in an empty world. Into this intentional space of gratitude, we speak aloud an acknowledgement of our limits, our indebtedness, and our wonder. This is the push and pull of worship: to open our eyes to what God would have us see in ourselves and others, to take our awareness outside of our selfhood, to lay down our anxieties in front of someone who cares, to sing and pray and listen and speak ourselves into community with each other and God.

In Taylor’s words, “reverence [is] the proper attitude of a small and curious human being in a vast and fascinating world of experience.”(3) Humility and curiosity are key parts of a reverent attitude, for Jesus warned us in the text for today that our preconceptions about who we should be in community with, who we should be open to and grateful for, can get in the way of true reverence.

But our preconceptions of people are not the only things that get in the way. We often erect many obstacles to gratitude and reverence in our daily lives. As Taylor points out:

“The practice of paying attention really does take time. Most of us move so quickly that our surroundings become no more than the blurred scenery we fly past on our way to somewhere else. We pay attention to the speedometer, the wristwatch, the cell phone, the list of things to do, all of which feed our illusion that life is manageable. Meanwhile, none of them meets the first criterion for reverence, which is to remind us that we are not gods. If anything these devices sustain the illusion that we might yet be gods—if only we could find some way to do more faster.”(4)

I stand here convicted of this illusion just as much as anyone else. It is so easy to fall into. And what prevents this falling? It’s too simple really, but it’s simple awareness, it’s what we choose to give our attention to. We often remain so caught up in our own competence, our own opinions, our own delusions, but a simple autumn leaf and the awareness that we had nothing to do with its beauty and process and life, this can bring us around to our place in the order of things. 

So I’m going to invite us now to hear the words of the Christian mystic from the Middle Ages, Julian of Norwich, as she recounts a vision she had one day. If you would like, take a moment to find a small nature token, like an acorn or a stone, or a shell, and hold it in the palm of your hand as we focus on these words: 

And in this [God] showed me something small, no bigger than a hazelnut, lying the palm of my hand, as it seemed to me, and it was as round as a ball. I look at it with the eye of my understanding and thought: what can this be? I was amazed that it could last, for I thought that because of its littleness it would suddenly have fallen into nothing. And I was answered in my understanding: It lasts and always will, because God loves it; and thus everything has being through the love of God. (5) 

The ten lepers from our text today were healed “as they went.” And so we also go about our lives, to and fro. As we go, will we notice our various healings, small and large alike, and will they remind us to praise, to be grateful, to see that everything has being through the love of God? In Taylor’s words, can we trust “that something as small as a hazelnut [or an acorn or a stone or a shell] can become an altar in this world.”(6)

We are given oppotunities to make altars in our world every moment, with everything that we encounter. We won’t always remember to, and that’s okay. But hopefully we wil remember sometimes, and that will be enough. 

Amen.

1. Barbara Brown Taylor, An Altar in the World: A Geography of Faith, p21
2. Ibid.
3. Ibid, p19
4. Ibid, p24
5. Julien of Norwich, as quoted in An Altar in the World, p17
6. Taylor, An Altar in the World, p34

Readings:

Psalm 111:1-10

1 Praise the LORD.I will extol the LORD with all my heart in the council of the upright and in the assembly. 2 Great are the works of the LORD; they are pondered by all who delight in them. 3 Glorious and majestic are his deeds, and his righteousness endures forever. 4 He has caused his wonders to be remembered; the LORD is gracious and compassionate. 5 He provides food for those who fear him; he remembers his covenant forever. 6 He has shown his people the power of his works, giving them the lands of other nations. 7 The works of his hands are faithful and just; all his precepts are trustworthy. 8 They are established for ever and ever, enacted in faithfulness and uprightness. 9 He provided redemption for his people; he ordained his covenant forever— holy and awesome is his name. 10 The fear of the LORD is the beginning of wisdom; all who follow his precepts have good understanding. To him belongs eternal praise.

Luke 17:11-19

11 Now on his way to Jerusalem, Jesus traveled along the border between Samaria and Galilee. 12 As he was going into a village, ten men who had leprosy met him. They stood at a distance 13 and called out in a loud voice, “Jesus, Master, have pity on us!” 14 When he saw them, he said, “Go, show yourselves to the priests.” And as they went, they were cleansed. 15 One of them, when he saw he was healed, came back, praising God in a loud voice. 16 He threw himself at Jesus’ feet and thanked him—and he was a Samaritan. 17 Jesus asked, “Were not all ten cleansed? Where are the other nine? 18 Has no one returned to give praise to God except this foreigner?” 19 Then he said to him, “Rise and go; your faith has made you well.”
Heaven and Hell #404
Some spirits who thought themselves better informed than others claimed that in the world they had held to the belief that heavenly joy consisted solely in praising and glorifying God, and that this was an active life. They have been told, though, that praising and glorifying God is not an appropriate kind of active life, since God has no need of praise and glorification. Rather, God wants us to be useful to each other, to do the worthwhile things that are called works of charity. However, they could not connect any notion of heavenly joy with thoughtful good deeds, only a notion of servitude. The angels, though, bore witness that it was the freest life of all because it stemmed from a deep affection and was invariably accompanied by an indescribable pleasure.

Readings: Ruth 3:1-11, 4:13-17, True Christianity 599 (see below)
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Here we are in the third installment of our series on the book of Ruth. Let’s recap where we have been. Naomi is an Israelite women who goes to live in Moab due to famine. Her sons marry local Moabite women, one of whom was named Ruth. After a time, Naomi’s husband and sons die, and she has no choice but to return to Israel. She is bitter and feels forsaken by God. But, even though it means leaving her homeland, Ruth will not abandon Naomi, and so she travels to Israel with her. 

Once they arrive, they must contend with how they will survive. Ruth attempts to glean the leftovers from the harvest in the fields of a local wealthy landowner named Boaz. Boaz had heard of Ruth’s act of loyalty to Naomi and orders extra grain to be left behind for Ruth to collect. Naomi is glad to hear of this development, and points out that Boaz is related to her husband’s family and thus has a responsibly for their welfare. She calls him their guardian-redeemer, a specific term with both social and legal meanings.

Today we hear the climax and the resolution of the story in chapters 3 and 4. Naomi has a plan for securing their future, and so she gives Ruth some very specific instructions. These instructions probably sound pretty strange to us now - uncovering feet? - and we might not really feel clear about what is happening.

But what might confuse us a little in English is very plain in the Hebrew. The original text contains a lot of suggestive wordplay and euphemistic terms. Given Ruth’s model behavior in the previous chapters, our first instinct might be to resist what is suggested in the Hebrew text, to make her completely chaste, non-transgressive, uncalculating, and demure. But the fact is, Ruth takes a risk here, and acts outside of what might have been considered acceptable behavior in Israelite society. We might wonder: was it right for her to do so? Was it “right” for Naomi to ask Ruth to act in such a way? And what does “right” in this context even mean?

Boaz must have been aware of his relationship to their family, and of his responsibility as their guardian-redeemer. Yet, as of Chapter 3, he had not done anything more than allow Ruth to glean a little extra grain. We might also ask: was he intending to act? Why was he taking so long? What would have happened if Ruth had done nothing? Was it not “right” for Ruth to call him to account, to remind him of his responsibility?

Like many stories in the Bible, these characters are all very human, feeling real human emotions, acting with mixed human motives, trying their best within the context they are given, sometimes falling short, and sometimes bringing about miracles.

As one of my commentaries notes: 
“We have to acknowledge that what Ruth did was scandalous in the eyes of the world, *and* that it was an act of loving kindness.”(1) It was an act that sought to take care of her mother-in-law, to alleviate her emptiness; it was an act that gently called a “pillar of Israelite society to responsibility”(2) as well as relationship, it was an act that would heal a family and begin a line that would culminate in one of Israel’s greatest leaders.

And so the text prompts us to ask ourselves, in what ways might *we* be called to risk, might we be called to push against social norms in order to practice connective and covenantal love, what in the Hebrew is called hesed, love that enfolds people into community. Is there a place in our lives that is calling out for accountability, for relationship, for encouragement, for change, but we are constrained by what feels to us like social respectability, social expectations, and the embarrassment and fear associated with with pushing against those norms? 

Because, the next most important question to ask is: What occurs as a result of Ruth’s risk-taking? One thing, among many, is that Naomi experiences a reversal of her emptiness. Her overall and understandable bitterness drives the narrative of the first chapter. But by the end of the story, we find her heart is filled again. The narrative is signaling that her personal trajectory mirrors the trajectory of her people as a whole, that her grandchild, so precious to her in a personal way, will also play his part in leading a whole people towards redemption, as a link in King David’s familial line. An act of risk, courage and hope, grounded in hesed, that first *uncovers* and lays bare human vulnerability and need, and then culminates in the *recovery* of hope and meaning.

The text aims to drive this home in its use of language. The Hebrew scriptures often like to juxtapose similar sounding words in order to contrast their meaning. In chapter 3, we notice the juxtaposition of the word gala, meaning uncover, reveal or remove, and gaal, meaning recover, redeem, or restore. In the words of my commentary again: the “narrator encourages the audience to consider the ways in which uncovering can lead to recovering - the redemption of what was lost.” (3)

Ruth acts to uncover the feet of Boaz - and in the Hebrew this has a suggestive association. And yet, this uncovering leads to a recovering. Her vulnerability and his responsibility are uncovered, and into that place of need a relationship is formed, and dignity is recovered. 

As we go even deeper, Swedenborg writes about how the act of “uncovering” in the bible represents a removing of external things so that internal ones may be apparent(4). Often, external things (learned perspectives, attachments, anxieties, habits) get in the way of spiritual progress. But, as suggested in our Swedenborg reading, this is just part of the process, a process of redemption that has been built into the divine design. We are called to uncover the truth about ourselves, to quiet the ego long enough for truth to be revealed to us, and then to remove that which cannot serve love, cannot serve hesed. This act of faithful gala — uncovering— makes space for, makes a path for, gaal — restoration.

And so as we consider divine design, and God’s intention for us, we might ask, where is God in the book of Ruth? Even though the narrative is dealing with very human problems and very human interactions, God’s presence is very much woven into the story as well. There are no prophets speaking God’s word directly, the settings are fields and roads and threshing floors rather than tabernacles or a burning bush, and yet God feels very close to this story, we see God within this story. The way God is known in the book of Ruth is through people. There is loss, and there is death and God responds with loyalty and hesed from a daughter-in-law. There is poverty and uncertainty and God responds with mutual relationship and kindness from one who can help. There is bitterness and perceived abandonment, and God responds with new birth and new life.

In chapter 3, verse 9, Ruth asks Boaz to spread his garment, or his cloak over her. The word for cloak, kanap,  is also the word for wing, and Boaz had previously used that word in chapter 2, when he praised Ruth for her loyalty “May you be richly rewarded by the Lord, the God of Israel, under whose wings you have come to take refuge.” We might wonder though, how much at the time he said this, was this some vague blessing, or did he consider the reality that many times the love of God becomes real and palpable through human decision. Ruth makes that connection clear to him, that if God’s wings are to give her refuge, that refuge in a physical sense must come through him. One of the ways that God’s love finds its way to us, is by the care and concern we show each other.

And so we find ourselves back to asking the question: what is our part? We are all sometimes Naomi, sometimes Ruth, sometimes Boaz. Naomi’s bitterness was not where she began, or where she was destined to end up. She was taking a detour, a necessary and understandable one, one that we all take from time to time. But God’s wings were over her the entire time. May we all find the courage to step into our place in the divine process, the uncovering and the recovering, one that brings all people into redemption. Amen.

1. The New Interpreter’s Bible, p295
2. Ibid, p303
3. Ibid, p290
4. Emanuel Swedenborg, Secrets of Heaven #9917 and #9960

Readings:

Ruth 3:1-11, 4:13-17

1 One day Ruth’s mother-in-law Naomi said to her, “My daughter, I must find a home for you, where you will be well provided for. 2 Now Boaz, with whose women you have worked, is a relative of ours. Tonight he will be winnowing barley on the threshing floor. 3 Wash, put on perfume, and get dressed in your best clothes. Then go down to the threshing floor, but don’t let him know you are there until he has finished eating and drinking. 4 When he lies down, note the place where he is lying. Then go and uncover his feet and lie down. He will tell you what to do.” 5 “I will do whatever you say,” Ruth answered. 6 So she went down to the threshing floor and did everything her mother-in-law told her to do. 7 When Boaz had finished eating and drinking and was in good spirits, he went over to lie down at the far end of the grain pile. Ruth approached quietly, uncovered his feet and lay down. 8 In the middle of the night something startled the man; he turned—and there was a woman lying at his feet! 9 “Who are you?” he asked. “I am your servant Ruth,” she said. “Spread the corner of your garment over me, since you are a guardian-redeemer of our family.” 10 “The LORD bless you, my daughter,” he replied. “This kindness is greater than that which you showed earlier: You have not run after the younger men, whether rich or poor. 11 And now, my daughter, don’t be afraid. I will do for you all you ask. All the people of my town know that you are a woman of noble character. 

4:13 So Boaz took Ruth and she became his wife. The LORD enabled her to conceive, and she gave birth to a son. 14 The women said to Naomi: “Praise be to the LORD, who this day has not left you without a guardian-redeemer. May he become famous throughout Israel! 15 He will renew your life and sustain you in your old age. For your daughter-in-law, who loves you and who is better to you than seven sons, has given him birth.” 16 Then Naomi took the child in her arms and cared for him. 17 The women living there said, “Naomi has a son!” And they named him Obed. He was the father of Jesse, the father of David.

True Christianity 599

During the battles or conflicts within us, the Lord carries out an individual act of redemption, much like the all-encompassing redemption he brought about while he was in the world. 

While he was in the world, the Lord glorified his human manifestation, that is, made it divine, through battles and inner conflict. In a similar way within us individually, the Lord fights for us while we are undergoing inner conflict and conquers the hellish spirits who are assaulting us. Afterward he "glorifies" us, that is, makes us spiritual. 

After his universal redemption, the Lord restructured all things in heaven and in hell in accordance with the divine design. He does much the same thing in us after crises of the spirit - that is, he restructures all the things in us that relate to heaven and the world in accordance with the divine design.