“How great a being, Lord, is thine, / which doth all beings keep! / Thy knowledge is the only line / to sound so vast a deep. / Thou art a sea without a shore, / a sun without a sphere; / thy time is now and evermore, / thy place is everywhere.”- How Shall I Sing That Majesty, verse 3
“For God, who said, ‘Let light shine out of darkness,’ made his light shine in our hearts to give us the light of the knowledge of God’s glory displayed in the face of Christ.”- 2 Corinthians 4:6 (NIV)
At the time this photo was taken, my future mother worked for the Navy Department in Washington, DC. While her fraternal twin, Elmer, looking spiffy in his sailor attire, was stationed at the Navy Post Office in New York City. Of course, they relished this temporary respite from serving their country at the height of World War II.
Growing up, Elinor and Elmer’s parents lacked money. So, early on they learned to share everything: one tricycle, coaster wagon, scooter, sled. Furthermore, both did well in high school. Although, my mother quipped, she finished slightly higher than Elmer — because she worked harder.
However, with the Great Depression in full swing, inexperienced girls found work hard to come by. One Christmas season, Elinor worked at Woolworths for the fabulous wage of 35 cents an hour. Then, on 3 December 1947, father Hugo Dahlke died of a stroke. Two days after his 55th birthday.
Despite her many hardships, Mom flashes her engaging smile in the photo. Because she put her faith and trust in Jesus, a sun without a sphere. Writing in The Missing Messiah: The Jesus We Can No Longer Ignore (2026), coauthors Kyle Idleman and Mark E. Moore state that if you ask people what Christ means, they’ll most likely tell you it represents Jesus’ last name. As if, Kyle and Mark wryly note, Jesus was born to Mary and Joseph Christ. And eventually started the religion bearing His family name.
Most significantly, first-century followers of Jesus made explosive, political, theological, and revolutionary claims when they called Jesus Christ or Messiah. They never casually threw that title around. But, Kyle and Mark contend, somewhere between the first century and the twenty-first, we’ve lost that meaning. Above all, in the process, to some degree, we’ve lost the Messiah himself.
Consequently, first-century believers would find the modern Jesus, created in our own image, unrecognizable. Because first-century believers had:
- a King who demanded absolute allegiance, not a life coach.
- a Messiah who told them to take up a cross and follow Him, not a spiritual therapist.
- a revolutionary who promised to turn the world upside down and who expected them to execute His mission, not a divine assistant who existed to improve their lives.
Certainly, Kyle and Mark acknowledge, to stop treating Jesus like a spiritual accessory and start following Him as the infinite Messiah, a sun without a sphere, comes with a high cost. As well as the greater gain. We didn’t lose Jesus because He went somewhere. Instead, we lost Jesus because we stopped looking for Him. As a result, we settled for a smaller story, a safer Savior, a more convenient Christ.
In conclusion, Kyle and Mark exhort:
“If our Messiah is artificial, our hope is baseless and we fail under pressure. Our faith will be little more than a ‘Flat Stanley’ — convenient for carrying in our pocket and taking selfies with, but not something we can build our lives on. The real Jesus is far more mysterious, dangerous, and exhilarating. Chasing after him is worth the risk — it will be the adventure of a lifetime.”