drowning in ignorance

‘Faith is believing God and asking no questions,” reads a letter to the editor written in to the newspaper I work at.
When I called the gentleman who penned it to inquire about the source of the quote, which he had indicated was from the Bible, he explained that he read a book on faith years ago and he carries that quote around with him.

Pardon me while I scream and slam down the phone.

Now, I don’t know the name of the book, or of the idiot author who is either very messed up or does not know how to communicate well. Either way, please, please, please, never fall into this blind conservatism trap (or stay in Lancaster County, Pa. For too long).

Close consideration and exploration, the only kind, really, needs to be delved into in the scriptures. Not some book. Not some biased, self-shoving beliefs un-based in scripture book.

Lets take a look at a couple of stories. Some logically provided by my brilliant-as-ever husband.

First, my favorite: Abraham. Great Guy. Went from a two-syllable name to a three-syllable name, very significant with the whole God changing your name/identity bit there. God hung out with him, appeared randomly to him, promised him basically the world.
And yet, repeatedly, Abe questions. And not even the philosophical, debating, weighing options type of questions, shouting at the sky and all that (though I’m sure much of that was involved). He openly acted in doubt. He impregnated a concubine, doubting the very word of God from the Dude’s own lips! And this is not some stranger who God freaked out by appearing in a long-forgotten dream. This is a guy who knew God, personally, conversed with him, was hand-selected to build an entire nation of the world by Him. Seriously.

Next example: Joseph. Poor dude, this guy’s life story is rife with conflict, muckyness, and downright depression. Now, the moral of the story is that he trusted God to do what was best for him. The reality of the moral? You better believe when he was thrown down the well, left for dead, sold into slavery, sent to prison, etc., that he had some shouting matches with God. Joseph, though young and apparently colorful, was no pushover, he rose to be the second greatest commander in Egypt, a very power-hungry place! There is NO WAY Joseph didn’t question God’s plan. Not one iota of way there.

Lets skip to the new testament. What better example than Jesus himself? He trusted God, absolutely. He had faith. But he did not live his life as a door mat (pacifist, but not doormat). He literally said to his own father “please take this cup from me,” Hows that for questioning. Hey, the one thing you want me to do in this world? I’d be okay if you would just leave off, lets not and say we did. Wha…?! Yes, Jesus himself, man and God, questions his own destiny, his own faith in his own mission, the only mission to ever be able to save the world!

I am abstaining from the fourteen exclamation points now.

And those are just the stories with examples. That’s not even considering the directions specifically stated in scripture, like 1 Thess. 5:21, “prove all things; hold fast to that which is good.” Or Acts chapter 17, when it talks about the church searching the scriptures to find proof for what they were being told.

People. Faith is trusting without concrete, tangible evidence, yes, but faith is not, and is not meant to be, trusting without conversation. Without asking, without exploring, without THINKING about what you believe. Heavens no, as my mother would say.

Faith is real. And real is dirty, gritty, doubtful, joyful, painful, fearful, triumphant. Faith is not believing and asking no questions. Faith is believing amidst the questions.

Hold my Hand

This has come up a lot recently in my devotional-esque thoughts. Holding Jesus’ hand.

So often, and I’m chatting with God throughout the day, the very needy and fearful thought returns to my mind again and again – hold my hand, Jesus. I know I’ll fall, I know I’ll fail, but if you just hold my hand, you can pull me back up and we can keep on walking down this road together.

I wrote a short devotional about this in my journal sometime in college. The story goes something like this:

A man and a little girl are walking through a slippery, crowded street. She is in her best dress, with her hair done up and shiny new shoes on her feet. She is ready to put her best foot forward.
Next to her, her dad holds out his hand, ready to hold hers as they push through the crowd.
At first, she doesn’t need his hand. She walks carefully, looking down, making sure her new shoes don’t get scuffed up, dodging knees and pants.
Then, she falls on her rear.
Tearing up a bit, and panicking because of all of the people around her, she squeeks a little and cries. She’s afraid her dad walked on, didn’t notice that she fell, or thought to himself “serves her right for showing off her new shoes and not paying attention.”
But she blindly, hoping, throws out her hand anyway, reaching as high as she can with fingers outstretched.
He grabs her hand with his big, solid warm ones. They are calloused and scarred, but they’re the strongest, most gentle hands she knows, and she trusts them.
He pulls her up, murmering and wiping away her tears.
They keep on walking.
This time, she holds his hand tightly.
But then, she starts getting impatient and uncomfortable. Repeatedly, she begs him to lift her up on his shoulder so she can see what’s ahead, and take the weight off of her feet for awhile.
Gently, he says no, he cannot do that. Not because he is incapable, but because that’s not what’s best for her, what his plan of their time includes.
She stomps her feet in frusteration and lets go of his hand, almost immediately flying face-first into the ground.


You see the point.

I was entertained by this as I listened to a sermon I had missed at church by John Wilkenson, our teen pastor, and possibly one of the greatest speakers I’ve ever heard. He told the story of how he went to a big farm shor in PA (because that’s what we do for fun here), and he and his family with three children got stuck in a bottle-necked crowd heading out of one section of the event. While there, a lady started screaming about how she had lost her son in the crowd, and she was shoving and yelling in desperation. At the same time, about every ten seconds, his son was asking, “where are we going? What’s up ahead? Can you see? What’s going on?” and John just held on tight to his boy, not letting him go, but not taking the time to explain every thing, just saying, sit tight, it’ll be all right.

Then, this morning, I was reading a devotional by my favorite Christian author, Max Lucado. He is discussing the phrase “lead us not into temptation, and deliver us from evil” in the Lord’s prayer. Here’s what he has to say:

“Imagine a father and son walking down an icy street. The father cautions the boy to be careful, but the boy is too excited to slow down. He hits the first patch of ice. Up go the feet and down plops the bottom. Dad comes along and helps him to his feet. The boy apologizes for disregarding the warning and then, tightly holding his father’s big hand, he asks, “Keep me from the slippery spots. Don’t let me fall again.”

This example, to me, never gets old. It helps that I have a great relationship with my dad, and can perfectly picture these examples as they were played out in my own life. But I cannot think of a more simple, clear, and touching way to depict our relationship with Christ. All theological intricacies aside: we are children, holding the hand of the Father, trusting him to hold on tight, not leave us behind, and to be tall enough to see what’s ahead and be with us through it.

For better or for worse

Have you ever turned your back on Christ?

This was a question at our small group this week. I didn’t say this then, so as not to offend anyone gathered, but here’s what I think is tied in with anyone’s answer to that question.

Personal relationship. (see RGB)

I know several people who’ve turned their back on God, because He didn’t take care of them like they wanted, because He ‘let’ someone suffer and/or die, etc. Some have come back, some have not.

But the deciding factor of those who either come back, or don’t turn away in the first place, seems to me to be the personal relationship.

Why do I think this? Well, because of some examples that were given. Friends of a couple in our small group had their 5-month-old daughter die from a rare heart disease. They don’t hate God: they hold on to Him more strongly. I’ve seen people lose children, be diagnosed with cancer, live through their parents dying in a shocking or degrading manner, and though they may be angry, express doubts, and really wrestle with their faith, it just makes them cling to Him more closely.

This is true in my life. In answer to the original question, I think: no. Whenever crap happens in my life, I look up at the sky and say two things: Bring it on.
And, You’d better know what’s going on up there, because I don’t, but I’m going to have to trust You through this pain.

Why? Because I have a personal relationship with my God.

I think of two examples of people close to me who have turned their back on God. And I think, though I cannot know for sure, that it was because their relationship with God was piggyback-style. Based on someone else’s relationship. Based on what they were told they should believe, but never discovered for themselves. Based on knowledge or upbringing, not a relationship.

Talking about this in bed last night, Tim, my smart-as-heck husband, brought up a good point. We often think of God as doing things in reaction to what we do. Which may sometimes be true – but not in the way we think of it. We see our kid get sick, crash our car, get our gps stolen, and we think “what did I do that God decided I deserve this?”

That, my friends, is entirely wrong. God is a constant, not a wobbly reaction chemical. He doesn’t wait for us to act and then magically make a decision based on what we’ve said or done. He’s got the rules of the universe already in place: His Grace and Mercy (and Justice).

However, this is so often what we project. I think it’s partly because of literally centuries of this weird, ingrained thought process. Remember in medieval times, and in early American puritan times, when if you got sick it was because you did something and God decided to punish you? Rough way of life I think.

And, in a flip-flop view, to take what Tim said a step further, I think this is what we ourselves project onto our relationship with God, if and when we decide to turn away from him. We act in a reactionary way. We say: if you’re going to treat me (or x person) like this, then I’m done with you.

Now, lets be honest, that’s just being human. That’s how we respond with our sense of justice, and perhaps our training on consumerism and customer service laws. If I don’t get what I deserve, then I’m done with you.

But again, this forgets the aspect of a steady, personal relationship. God is not a yo-yo. We should not react to him as if we don’t have a relationship with Him, as if he were some vending machine that we kick because it doesn’t give the correct change. We should react like we should to a friend or mentor that we trust. I don’t know why you’re doing this, or why this situation is unfolding like this, but I figure you’ve got it under control. Yell if you need help. I’m here, I don’t understand what’s going on or why, but we’re together on this.

That’s the way it should be.