I wish I were a suave, sophisticated Christian — someone who had it sort of spiritually together. I worship with a few and am totally overwhelmed by them. But if I’m honest, most days I’m more like a spiritual five year old than I care to admit. Let me explain.

I know truth. I know that God is great, good, merciful, slow to anger, unchangeable. I know that God is by nature and by desire my shepherd, fortress, rock, shelter, shield, father. I know, but in my stress and anxiety (which have been rather constant companions of late) I struggle to believe any of it. Not content to merely disbelieve and fully convinced that God can take it (but why should He??), I yell (usually metaphorically) my frustration and disbelief out to God accusing Him of neglect and usually threaten to walk out — I haven’t quite figured out where I would go exactly.

Where shall I go from your Spirit?
Or where shall I flee from your presence?
If I ascend to heaven, you are there!
If I make my bed in Sheol, you are there!

I could make plenty of excuses. I could explain, truthfully, that I know enough about my treatment of almighty God to understand that to expect God to treat me with anything more than exasperation and despair is the height of arrogance. This has the advantage of sounding spiritual while being completely theologically bankrupt. The grim reality is I want God to do what I want Him to do, when I want Him to do it, how I want Him to do it. God, thankfully, is too wise and loving to work that way.

Let me tell you about my week. My car needed nearly $700 in repairs. Tuesday night meltdown — not about the car, but about everything. About many frustrations, changes, stressors God has allowed in my life right now, including the car! Thursday God provided enough money to cover the car expenses. His provision was sufficient, but the budget would have been tight — no worries — been there, done that. Friday my car spent the day at the shop. Friday I went to pay the bill for repairs and an anonymous someone had already paid. (What an unexpected blessing!!)

Let me be clear. God was under no obligation to help me with my repair bill. To be fair, I wouldn’t have helped me. The goodness of God isn’t in the temporal blessing of a car with working brakes — although that is certainly good. His goodness is still talking, still communicating to me in ways that are attention getting, irrefutable, immediate, powerful, and convincing even when (or perhaps especially when) my own ability to hear and understand are overwhelmed by sin, stress, and exhaustion. Providing above and beyond in this tangible manner, I think, is the divine equivalent of hugging a tantruming child until they finally calm down.

It isn’t elegant. It’s not dignified. At least, not for me. But doesn’t it just show up all the dazzling goodness of our good God! I’m so thankful to have a heavenly father who holds me while I flail. Who is teaching me to rest in His love through the sheer overwhelming persistence and presence of His goodness and mercy. Who listens to my ugly, self-centered tatrum and holds me close while he whispers in my ear, “Daughter, this is not the way of child of God behaves. Why are you fearful, ye of little faith? I’m here. Nothing can separate you from the love of God — not even you.”

The sad thing is that my life, compared to so many, is easy. I have dear friends traveling dark roads — unspeakably dark. I have no excuse for me. But God is good. He meets us where we are and leads us along. He is good. He leads in green pasture and still waters; He leads through the valley of the shadow of death. God is good. He leads us to where we must meet our enemy and then prepares us a table, a feast, even there. God is good — the simplest and most difficult truth to grasp.

From Doctor Who: The Eleventh Hour
(The Atraxi is hovering overhead.)
AMY: So this was a good idea, was it? They were leaving.
DOCTOR: Leaving is good. Never coming back is better. Come on, then! The Doctor will see you now.
(The eyeball drops onto the roof and scans the Doctor.)
ATRAXI: You are not of this world.
DOCTOR: No, but I’ve put a lot of work into it.
(He looks at his selection of ties.)
DOCTOR: Oh, hmm, I don’t know. What do you think?
ATRAXI: Is this world important?
DOCTOR: Important? What’s that mean, important? Six billion people live here. Is that important? Here’s a better question. Is this world a threat to the Atraxi? Well, come on. You’re monitoring the whole planet. Is this world a threat?
(There is a projection of the world between them.)
ATRAXI: No.
DOCTOR: Are the peoples of this world guilty of any crime by the laws of the Atraxi?
ATRAXI: No.
DOCTOR: Okay. One more. Just one. Is this world protected? Because you’re not the first lot to come here. Oh, there have been so many.
(The projection shows the Daleks et al.)
DOCTOR: And what you’ve got to ask is, what happened to them?
(A run through of all the previous Doctors, then this Doctor steps through the projection with a jacket and bow tie.)
DOCTOR: Hello. I’m the Doctor. Basically, run.
**********
One of my favorite themes in Doctor Who is the “This Planet is Defended” theme. With panache and charisma The Doctor devises ingenious ways to protect the inhabitants of earth from overwhelming forces of evil and destruction. And when any of these forces interfere with his protected people they face his immediate wrath. I love this theme, because it reinforces some of the lessons I am learning about my Heavenly Father (who seems to need to rescue me rather too frequently).

The last few years have been spiritually challenging. Wonderful, yes. But difficult. It is unnerving to be faced with the fact that not only are the voices around you unreliable, your own is as well. Your mind and your emotions will deceive you.

The heart is deceitful above all things, and desperately sick [wicked, incurable]; who can understand it? Jeremiah 17:9

It is one thing to understand that “How firm a foundation ye saint of The Lord/ Is laid for your faith in his excellent Word.” It is another to experience the shifting sand and become one of those that “to Jesus for refuge has fled.” (Fleeing to Christ doesn’t stop at Salvation!)

Spiritually, the world is a scary place. It’s full of dangers without and within. But you, if God is your father, have, blazoned across your soul for every principality, power, and ruler of this world “This soul is defended.” The demands on you are comparatively low — stay close (don’t wander off) and when He says “run,” run!

I run to Christ when vexed by hell
And find a mighty arm.
“The Devil flees,” the Scriptures tell;
He roars, but cannot harm.

I run to Christ when stalked by sin
And find a sure escape.
“Deliver me,” I cry to Him;
Temptation yields to grace.

I run to Christ when plagued by shame
And find my one defense.
“I bore God’s wrath,” He pleads my case—
My Advocate and Friend. (C. Anderson)

And be assured that when we wander off (and we will) that our Savior is just that — a savior! (Salvation doesn’t stop at Salvation!) There is nothing that we can “throw at him” that is unexpected or beyond his power to deal with. There is no trick our mind or heart can play that he cannot counter, no attack of Satan against which he cannot defend, and no lie of the world that he cannot expose.

For I am sure that neither death nor life, nor angels nor rulers, nor things present nor things to come, nor powers, nor height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord. Romans 8:38-39

So be at peace. Be confident — not in yourself, but in the power of your great Savior to defend and protect your heart and mind.

The soul that on Jesus has leaned for repose,
I will not, I will not desert to its foes;
That soul, though all hell should endeavor to shake,
I’ll never, no never, no never forsake.

My very extra special singing group at church performed Dan Forrest’s arrangement of “How Firm a Foundation.” While the arrangement is incredible throughout, one of my favorite features is that it keeps circling back to the question, “What more can He say?” It’s a legitimate question.

How firm a foundation, ye saints of the Lord,
Is laid for your faith in His excellent word!
What more can He say than to you He hath said—
To you who for refuge to Jesus have fled?

When through the deep waters I call thee to go,
The rivers of sorrow shall not overflow;
For I will be with thee thy trouble to bless,
And sanctify to thee thy deepest distress.

When through fiery trials thy pathway shall lie,
My grace, all-sufficient, shall be thy supply;
The flame shall not harm thee; I only design
Thy dross to consume and thy gold to refine.

Fear not, I am with thee, oh, be not dismayed,
For I am thy God, and will still give thee aid;
I’ll strengthen thee, help thee, and cause thee to stand,
Upheld by My gracious, omnipotent hand.

The soul that on Jesus doth lean for repose,
I will not, I will not, desert to his foes;
That soul, though all hell should endeavor to shake,
I’ll never, no never, no never forsake.”

Seriously, what more is there for God to say? What more can He promise that has been promised in His Word? What more can He give? What further guidance can He offer? If God chose to be silent from this moment on He would have said enough.

But here’s the amazing thing. He knows us. We aren’t good at silence. We need constant contact. So God keeps talking.He gave us the Holy Spirit to keep chattering away at us (rebuking, encouraging, teaching), and he wrote himself into the very fabric of creation so that we see his personality everywhere.

“And I will pray the Father, and he shall give you another Comforter, that he may abide with you for ever; Even the Spirit of truth; whom the world cannot receive, because it seeth him not, neither knoweth him: but ye know him; for he dwelleth with you, and shall be in you.” (John 14: 16-17)

The heavens declare the glory of God,
and the sky above proclaims his handiwork.
Day to day pours out speech,
and night to night reveals knowledge.
There is no speech, nor are there words,
whose voice is not heard.
Their voice goes out through all the earth,
and their words to the end of the world.
In them he has set a tent for the sun. (Psalm 19:1-4)

This isn’t a particularly deep or original though, but right now with winter setting in on the grey plains of Ohio, I am finding it particularly comforting.

This is going to be a testimony to my growing relationship with one verse in the Bible: Ps. 34:8. God first impressed this verse upon me for a mission trip after my sophomore year of college. My first reaction was “This is a stupid verse for a missions trip.” Proving that God’s thoughts are much higher than my thoughts! I have spent (cough-cough-sputter) years with these sixteen words: “Taste and see that the Lord is good; Blessed is the man [or woman] that trusteth in Him,” and I’m pretty sure that it will take as many more years (and maybe even longer) to really “get” them.

(I have to give a big “thank you” to Sam McAllister for the following, and apologies for heisting this from his sermon given on June 17, 2012.)

Psalm 34 bears the heading “A Psalm of David when he pretended madness before Abimelech, who drove him away, and he departed.” Here’s the story: David has just fled from Saul with the help of Jonathan. On his run he stops by Nob where the priests (whom Saul will later slay) are keeping the sword of Goliath. In a stunningly brainless move, David takes Goliath’s sword and runs to the king of Gath of Philistia, home of the Philistines. Remember them? Goliath–you know, of Gath–was one of their heroes. After Goliath’s death at the hands of a young David, the Israelites had quite a victory. In fact, the Israelites continued to rout the Philistines under the leadership of that same David until throughout the streets of Jerusalem was heard “Saul hath slain his thousands and David his ten thousands [Philistines].” So there is David standing in Gath before the king of the Philistines (who would really love to see him dead), holding the sword of the Goliath and asking for asylum. When David realizes his colossal stupidity, he pretends to be crazy and the king decides David isn’t worth his time and dismisses him.

Here’s the scene: David rose and fled that day from Saul and went to Achish the king of Gath. And the servants of Achish said to him, “Is not this David? Did they not sing to one another of him in dances, ‘Saul has struck down his thousands, and David his ten thousands’?” And David took these words to heart and was much afraid of Achish the king of Gath. So he changed his behavior before them and pretended to be insane in their hands and made marks on the doors of the gate and let his spittle run down his beard. (I Samuel 21: 10-13)

Maybe you can’t identify with this scenario . . . lucky you. For the rest of us, there is hope. David looks back on this moment in Psalm 34 and testifies to the goodness of God, the protection of God, and the possibility of growing in the fear of God. In short, David can look back on this moment of brainlessness and say “God is good even when I do something dumb. He protects me when I trust in him — even when occasionally my faith is momentarily hijacked by my stupidity. These mental-blips lead me to realize how much more I need to learn about God and his prescription for living a long and happy life.” What a much more positive outcome than wallowing in self-pity!

As always, thanks for listening.

I am single. (And to clarify, I said I wouldn’t talk about marriage. I never said I wouldn’t talk about not being married.)

Let me start by saying that I am content. God has given me a wonderful life and I wouldn’t trade it for anything. However, occasionally being single rots.

There is a little sexist in my head that tells me that as a lady I shouldn’t have to take out the trash, worry about the car, fix maladjusted vacuums, kill malicious bugs, balance the budget, or haul heavy boxes from the car. This is not to say that I can’t do these things. I can. Mostly, I just don’t want to. These are the things that my Dad did while I was growing up.

It comes as no surprise these are also the things which make me feel out of control (except for the trash; that’s just nasty, not challenging). I can put gas, coolant, and oil in my car, but speaking to mechanics (those strange men who speak a foreign language and have the magic to make my car go) is a humbling process. I don’t understand a word they say and they treat me like an idiot. Money is math. I hate math. And bugs are just . . . awful. Bugs are my Waterloo.

When I was living in Brooklyn a great, big, nasty, slimy, disgusting slug (Not a bug, I know, but might as well be) crawled into my kitchen. Gross! So being the terribly clever, very rational girl I am, I spent the next — well — however many minutes sobbing and throwing salt at the slug from across the room. Yes, laugh. I laugh now, but it was traumatizing. And that’s how I feel about bugs.

When I was teaching Public Speaking at BJU, one lecture dealt with how our ideas are linked to each other. Ideas aren’t independent. Ideas are networked. For instance, I brush my teeth because when I was little my mother told me that brushing my teach was healthy. I obey my mom because the Bible tells me to. I believe the Bible because once upon a time the Spirit worked in my heart and I trusted Christ to save me. All these ideas are networked. When we got to this lesson I used it to talk about missions. We believe that we ought to be involved in missions because the Bible tells us to, and we think that’s enough; so we fail to explore all the little ideas that might be attached to missions that might work against us. For me, sad to say, it’s bugs (and coffee – imagine the travesty of no coffee?!?). God calling me to a mission field is no big deal. God calling me to a mission field with big bugs — very big, overwhelming, scary problem.

See, I’m single. I don’t have anyone to take care of the bugs. And I really hate bugs — especially big ugly bugs that defy logic (centipedes, spiders, scorpions). I think about missionary women — Mary Slessor, Amy Carmichael — and part of myself wants to be like them, but another, very real part, wants to live in a place with very good coffee and very few bugs. It’s cowardly, but there it is.

Of course, it isn’t really isn’t about bugs, cars, or money. It’s about trust. Do I trust God enough to take care of the bugs? to give me enough wisdom to deal with a mechanical beast that makes me feel inadequate? to help me be smart about money? It seems so much easier to trust him with my immortal soul. This is, of course, another curse of materialism. I’ll never see or feel my soul, so entrusting it is only occasionally troubling. But bugs, money, and cars I see and feel them and they are almost always troubling.

So I’m single.

When I’m not struggling with trust — which happens far too infrequently — I realize how blessed I am to be in a position in which I get to see firsthand how God cares for me. He does. It’s not that there will never be bugs, but God is trying to teach me (I’m a pretty sad student) that he will never send any bugs into my life without sending me enough grace and strength to deal with them. Bugs remind me that I need a protector. And I have the best protector in the whole universe.

Don’t know if this makes any sense at all, but thanks for listening.

In the last few weeks I have had to read several articles from “Christian” bloggers that were just plain stupid badly argued.  Is logic and argumentation not taught anymore?  (That sentence makes me feel like an old curmudgeon.)  I would love to expound upon all the logical fallacies in these article (which shall remain unnamed to protect the guilty), but it would take far too long.  Take a class, read a book, review your notes from your beginning English and Public Speaking courses . . .

I would like to take this opportunity to point out one facet of argumentation within a Christian sphere that is pretty crucial.  Here it is — A bad argument does not negate a right conclusion.  In other words, it doesn’t matter how many idiotic arguments are offered up for something True, the Truth remains. Let me give a silly example.  I can argue that gravity exists because we all have magnetic feet and that the earth  is a giant magnet to which we all stick.  This is patently false.  No matter how hardily I argue my theory of magnetic feet, no matter how many people I convert to my cause, the Truth of gravity remains unchanged, because gravity is a Truth that exists independently of me (and you). This seems basic, but it is an absolutely vital place to start theologically.  If we believe in Truth (as opposed to truth) than the Truth exist to be known apart from all human interference and logic.  (This is not at all to negate the wonder of logic.  I believe logic is a gift from God to help us understand the world around us.  But like most good things it is all too easily corrupted.) 

Here’s the practical upshot. How many arguments for all kinds of changes in the church are based on the logic that because the former generation(s) gave horrible arguments for implementation, support, or continuation of “x” we should abandon, denounce, curtail, modify our use, support, or belief in “x”? Congratulations you have discovered that just like this current generation of Christians the former generations of Christians didn’t always give very well reasoned arguments for why they did what they did.  But this is ALL you have done – nothing more. You have not impeached the validity of their conclusion one iota.  That is an entirely different process and one that can only be done through careful, considered application of the entirety of the Word of God (not just those five favorite verses that you think prove you can do anything you want).

Coming down off that soapbox! Thanks for listening to me rant.

There is some song that comes on the radio in the store every now and then. I don’t endorse the song or the musical style, but the lyrics get stuck in my head because they are repeated ad nauseum:  “I am a material girl and I live in a material world.”  When it comes on I get all over metaphysical angst, because–well, yes–I am material being in a material world; but I’m not.  Or, as C. S. Lewis put it, “You don’t have a soul.  You are a soul.  You have a body.”

Frankly, living like a material girl (or guy) in a material world is much easier than living as a Spiritual being in a Spiritual reality while existing as a material entity in a material universe.  Our materiality is as easy as breathing (literally!), as easy as walking barefoot on the carpet, drinking coffee, stubbing your toe.  Our materiality is not a bad thing. Our materiality (both our physical selves and the world) are God-given — even God celebrated!

“I praise you, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made. Wonderful are your works; my soul knows it very well.” Psalm 139:14

The heavens declare the glory of God, and the sky above proclaims his handiwork. Day to day pours out speech, and night to night reveals knowledge. There is no speech, nor are there words, whose voice is not heard. Their voice goes out through all the earth, and their words to the end of the world. Psalm 19:1-4

But our fallen materiality makes Spiritual living really tricky! Our material existence is immediate.  It is impressed upon us every second of everyday. But it takes an act of the Holy Spirit and a dedication to meditating on the Word to live with Spiritual values in mind and to interpret the material world in a Spiritual light.

I think this is why I love Ecclesiastes so much. There is a lot going on in the book, but in amongst it all is this struggle between appreciating the wonderful material universe provided to us by a loving heavenly Father and the dangers that materiality can pose to us due to our fallen nature.  Ecclesiastes offers a really “simple” breakdown of the whole problem:

“The end of the matter; all has been heard. Fear God and keep his commandments, for this is the whole duty of man. For God will bring every deed into judgment, with every secret thing, whether good or evil.”  Ecc. 12:13-14

I am always surprised by this conclusion.  I want it to be more complex.  God knew I couldn’t handle more complex.  The bottom line is that until heaven, until our glorified bodies, the inherent tension of our dual existence is here to stay, and that’s the way God planned it.  His plans are always perfect.

This is a little scattered, but as always thanks for listening.

“If we find ourselves with a desire that nothing in this world can satisfy, the most probable explanation is that we were made for another world.”  ― C.S. Lewis

This is just a quick thought.  This March I had the opportunity to spend a week in London.  I could ramble on, quite extensively, about Aida at Royal Albert Hall, the Victoria and Albert Museum right across the street from my hotel, my lunch at Gordon Ramsay’s Petrus, or hearing Big Ben strike six directly above me.  However, I will refrain and focus instead on forty-five minutes of that week. Forty-five minutes spent in Westminster Cathedral.

Let me pause to say here to say that the following is not meant to be in support of Anglicanism, the Church of England, or any particular religious organization or form.

Okay, that being said, Westminster Cathedral is breathtaking.  It is the only building that has moved me to tears.  And it’s not just the architecture, which is, admittedly, grandiose (almost to the point of the obscene), it’s the history.  The cathedral vibrates with British-ness, and history, and religion — it’s astounding.  But, frankly, this is all unimportant.

I attended Evensong at Westminster.  It was forty-five of the most Spiritually glorious minutes of my life.  Scripture was sung, prayed, and read.  Just Scripture.  Only Scripture.  No interpretation – except perhaps ninety seconds or so in the closing prayer.  Let me reiterate, for effect, it was forty-five minutes of the words of the Bible being sung, prayed, and read aloud without commentary.

It made me think. When was the last time that your church, my church, got together and just enjoyed/celebrated/ingested Scripture?  I’m not suggesting that preaching and teaching are not important.  Clearly they are. Read any, or (even better) all,  of Paul’s epistles.  I guess my question/thought/comment now is, well, do we trust the Word of God, the Bible, to preach and teach without our help enough to shut-up and listen? Or do we feel, are somehow convinced although we would never verbalize our conviction, that Scripture needs our continual interpretation/interference? (Why do pastors seem to feel guilty if they read more than ten or fifteen verses during their sermons? )

With my whole heart have I sought thee: O let me not wander from thy commandments. Thy word have I hid in mine heart, that I might not sin against thee. Blessed art thou, O Lord: teach me thy statutes. With my lips have I declared all the judgments of thy mouth.  I have rejoiced in the way of thy testimonies, as much as in all riches.  I will meditate in thy precepts, and have respect unto thy ways.  I will delight myself in thy statutes: I will not forget thy word. Psalm 119: 10-16

So, “It’s all Theology” was actually a quip I used to end a conversation/discussion with a professor. At the time, I have to admit, it was more for effect than intentionally substantive. However, I think I shocked myself with the statement much more than I did my professor (who thinks of me as a religious eccentric at best). The thought that everything (and I mean everything) was related to theology made the world go right again. Let me explain.

Starting my doctoral work at BGSU was one of the more disorienting experiences of my life. It was like walking into a world where all the rules were changed and none of the words meant quite the same thing. It took a three semesters to find a footing in the mess. (And it is a mess. The world post poststructuralism, post postmodernism, and now into what? We aren’t sure, but it looks like the rise of posthumanism, whether of the cyborg or animal variety.) Frankly, I’m ashamed it took so long. However, the Lord used the months of uncertainty to teach me a great deal (of which you shall doubtless hear more).

I’m a Christian school kid. I’m a super-Christian school kid — I even grew up on the campus of a Christian school! And I went to a wonderful Christian university (Bob Jones University) were the professor really did do their best to try to teach me how to think. However, there seems to be a natural delay when switching from training mode to solo-flight. This lag time can be disconcerting. I’m afraid too many people interpret this natural process as something inherently bad – a weakness, a flaw, a setback. I’m not convinced it is.

My Christian teachers and my alma mater did everything possible to give me, and my classmates, a taste of the best possible Christian experience — the wonder of true Christian fellowship, the ability to listen quietly to the Spirit, a feast of Bible meat. The goal was to get our souls addicted to this type of living — a healthy addiction — I hope you agree! But it is the transition period, the time when the enriching environment is first gone, that demands you learn to provide these things for yourself which is some of the hardest work in the world. (Although, really you can’t do it yourself — it takes a church and a very patient God. More on this another time.)

For me the first few months away from my support structure felt like a cross between starving and dehydrating — not a fun experience. But I learned to appreciate the Psalms. (O God, you are my God; earnestly I seek you; my soul thirsts for you; my flesh faints for you, as in a dry and weary land where there is no water.) I learned to trust that God is good even when I can’t feel it. (Oh, taste and see that the Lord is good! Blessed is the man who takes refuge in him!) I learned to trust that God can protect me from myself. (Commit your works to the Lord, And your thoughts will be established.) Of all of these I should more accurately say, “I am learning . . .”

Anyway, the solid ground, the only solid ground, is the Bible. I know our teachers always told us this and we always nodded and “amen-ed” our agreement, but it won’t really be true for you, it wasn’t for me, until you’ve had your spiritual legs swept out from under you. Until you’ve had to fight to find your footing. Of course, at that point you may also realize, as I am realizing more and more each day, that I didn’t need to fight. I needed to rest. (Be still, and know that I am God. I will be exalted among the nations, I will be exalted in the earth!)

It is out of this moment of discovery — that the Bible really is the answer to ALL of life’s questions whether they be social, spiritual, cultural, or academic — that this blog is born. And the Bible isn’t just the answer, it’s the explanation. The Bible makes sense of the world (even when the world seems pretty senseless).

Well, this post has been slightly less than completely coherent. I apologize. Still . . .

Thanks for listening,

Sarah