You read what you see.

You knock on the door of the dingy inner city terrace. You probably did see a whole lot of Harley Davidsons outside on the footpath, but obviously you weren't thinking. The door opens, and now you see a room full of leather-clad, patch-emblazoned, hairy types of the bike riding persuasion. You were supposed to invite the happy householder to a gospel thingy at the local church. If you go along with that plan, you suddenly see a different future stretching out before you—and it doesn't seem to stretch that far any more.

Then there is the servant of the old prophet in 2 Kings 6. All he can see is the entire Syrian army about to turn Jerusalem into a pile of rubble and its inhabitants into mincemeat. He dreams of the day when he can surprise a bikie clubhouse with an invitation to a gingerbread-making event at Christmas time. What he sees makes him read his future with a very black lens indeed.

Then there is the rich man whose barns are filled, his servants are plentiful and his self-made life has been a self-made success. He sees no bikies behind the door, no Syrians at the bottom of the hill. He reads his future, and sees a long and happy one.

Jesus called him a fool (Luke 12:13-21).

The Bible tells us news of the coming kingdom of God. Since the Messiah has already come, it will be soon. And it will be sudden. It will be gloriously good for those who have embraced the Messiah already, but for those who haven't, it is not even easy to think about that future.

The world goes on as it always has, says the scoffer. The world sees permanence and so reads the future with safety. The world is getting worse, says the pessimist, but if we look on the bright side, says his optimistic friend, then we can pull it together.

Some see the Word after looking at the world. Some see the world after looking at the Word. It is amazing how differently each one reads both, once they have seen what they see.

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