Friday, October 12, 2012

The Bible: The Answer-Book?

For those who watched the Vice Presidential debate last night, there was a pretty cool moment at the end. The candidates, both practicing and devout Roman Catholics, were asked to speak about their faith and how it impacted them. And they did. They were passionate, they were articulate and they had respect for the Roman Catholic hierarchy. They also got off-track onto politicking, but it's a debate... we ought to expect that. But at the end of the day, I truly believe that both of them are living out of their faith.

Here's the thing... they disagree about what that means. And that's okay. They both turn to resources outside of the Bible to help them create policy. And that's okay, too. You do it, too.

When I was introduced to the Bible, I was told that it was an answer book that contained within it the answer to life's every question. And I believed it, and even told my friends that the Bible had all the answers.

It doesn't. The Bible doesn't intend to give us all the answers. It "merely" serves to introduce us to the One who has all the answers. The Bible is a story of what God has done on our behalf and of the kind of people God is forming us to be. What it doesn't do is answer every question we have about life. And it doesn't necessarily say how a Vice President should exercise authority in a democratic republic.

And this is good news to me. In my best days, I want more out of life than the right answers. After 6 years of academic life, I hope that life is more than the right answers. I want connection. I want to know God. Certainly, with knowing God comes wisdom, but God seems primarily concerned with that connection, then filling me with wisdom. This means that, more than occasionally, I will have a disagreement with another wisdom-seeking Christian about matters in life. And in some circumstances, we may both be right. Wisdom is contextual, and what is wise in my context may not be wise in yours.

Another unintended consequence of the "answer book" mentality is that Scripture becomes a weapon to fight. And so verses are prioritized (in my tribe of being Reformed, generally: Pauline epistles > Non-Pauline epistles > Gospels > Proverbs > Rest of Old Testament > Revelation) and counted numerically in order to determine relative worth in verbal combat. Eventually, the Bible becomes more about being right than being holy.

And I guess that's where I hope we can find a better way. A way where we seek God, recognize that we may disagree, and seek wisdom together.

Tuesday, October 2, 2012

What I Wish I Never Would Have Asked For... Maybe.

Not too long ago, I wrote on the question "What Keeps You Awake at Night?" That question has not left me since. Even while planning the fall and winter worship services in our congregation, the idea of "Awake at Night" came up again in terms of our Christmas Eve service. It seems as though God wants this idea to percolate for a while.

But here's the thing... being kept awake at night is romantic in theory, but not so much fun in reality. I like my sleep. I want 8 hours, generally, every night. But I also sing songs of praise that invite God to give me "A Heart Like Yours" and to "Open the Eyes of My Heart." Now that I have asked the question... do I really want the answer?

For two or three weeks, I have lost hours of sleep. I have wrestled, and (nearly) wept, and gotten up to walk around. I wish I could blame caffeine or something, but the reality is that I can't. My caffeine consumption hasn't changed that much. But what has changed is that I am getting a bigger picture of what God wants to do, and I am in the Isaiah place of realizing that I can't possibly do it.

Staying awake at night has helped me have a heart like God's, a heart that breaks for the lost and demystifies the obstacles facing the Shalom Kingdom of Christ, but it also helps me face the obstacles sitting in me that keep me from becoming the person Christ wants me to be. Wrestling at night alternates between wrestling with God, wrestling with anxiety and wrestling with myself. Christ is shaping me to be a person with the capacity to face some of these big issues, but my fear of rejection, my guilt over mistakes and my shameful "I'm not good enough" stand in the way. And so, in these deep moments, I feel like Isaiah... but different. God asks "Who will go for us?" and I answer "It can't be me, I don't know how to do it!"

I long for the cleansing touch of the coals to my mouth. I long for the instantaneous sensation of being made "ready." But the Holy Spirit doesn't offer that to everyone, and I don't always have it. What I do have the still small voice that reminds me that I am a child of God, a member of a royal priesthood, empowered by the Spirit to face whatever God calls me to face, and not alone. And that still small voice knows that I cannot go without "slumber or sleep" (Psalm 121), and beckons me to that safe place of "Come to me, all who are weary, and I will give you rest." Maybe I'll never understand that God who gives rest and keeps me up all night, but I'm sure not running away.