Because of Jesus…

Some may have noticed that I haven’t been blogging as much lately. I wish I could blame it all on the workload of being a full-time seminarian mixed with a couple of part-time jobs, but the reality is all of that busy-ness actually makes me want to blog more. Of course, it doesn’t suddenly create the time to do so, but nevertheless the desire to blog isn’t the reason I haven’t blogged.

Honestly, my lack of blogging is due more to the fact that there are heavier things to blog about. For example, this summer I took American Church History with one Professor Randy Woodley and while we would read speeches from Martin Luther King Jr., a news story would break about how another black individual (or nine individuals at a Bible study) was killed at the hands of white men (usually police officers). Or when the Supreme Court ruled that same-sex marriages must be recognized in every state, how quickly many Christians responded with messages of mourning and lament even though the founders of many of the conservative institutions fought for equality of all. In those situations, my words would not do much to improve any situation or to lessen the pain within these communities. All anyone who is not directly involved can do is draw attention to the voices who are directly involved.

And basically that’s what I have been doing: re-tweeting and sharing the voices who have been speaking against injustice in these arenas as well as others. But sometimes that doesn’t seem to be enough. Sometimes it seems as though my friends on Facebook or Twitter won’t pay any attention to what I share because they don’t believe racism exists or they believe a “biblical marriage” has a simple, straight-forward definition contrary to what the Supreme Court thinks. What does it take for these perspectives not to be changed entirely, but to be challenged a little and given the space to think or process for themselves? What is needed in order for the voices of the slain black men, women, and children at the hands of police to be heard? What is it going to take to value each other’s life equally?

I will not even begin to pretend to have the answers, but I have a few hopes. One hope is that we would de-politicize these issues so that we might have a little more room to talk. Both Republicans and Democrats can be (and often are) seen as the enemy – as the group that is trying to ruin the country. Our political atmosphere has long been removed from the realm of equal dialogue and sharing of perspectives because it has become so fused with the need to beat one’s opponent that we’re reluctant to admit where we have agreements – or even worse, where our political parties are actually wrong. Removing the politics from the discussion enables for voices to be heard.

Which leads to my second hope: that we would de-politicize these issues so that we might have room to listen. This is by far the most important aspect of removing the political labels because in either political party the people who are less likely to be heard are the underprivileged black, Latino/a, Native, LGBTQ, and female voices. So the opposite of these categories – the cisgender, heterosexual, white male – is primarily the one who desperately needs to listen. But the same challenge can extend to others who are not this category and yet retain some aspect of privilege. For example, I’m not white, but I am a cisgender, heterosexual male, so in conversations revolving around sexuality or how women are treated, I desperately need to shut my mouth and listen. It doesn’t mean I can’t ask questions, but it does mean that I better spend more time listening than asking.

And this leads to my third hope: that we would sweat it out as we listen. Randy Woodley challenged the class with this idea in an (unpublished?) article he wrote, but the idea is basically that when it comes to “sitting at the conversation table,” we must remain seated as our privileges are exposed. And yes, we may even be guilty of abusing these privileges, in which case it is even more imperative that we remain seated and sweat it out. If we are seeking to be true allies and help those who are underprivileged, then we can’t say that we’ll listen and get up from the table after five minutes because we got too uncomfortable or we found the words directed at us to be offensive. Here’s the thing: if we are privileged, then we are not in the right to be “offended” when this privilege is called out. We’re merely experiencing what happens when our privileges are removed. So if you’re white and hearing about “white privilege” for the first time, remember that it is not racism to call out the dominant race for the systems their ancestors put in place that subordinate other races. Like John Metta talks about, race is a difficult topic because it is almost always centered around white feelings. We must sweat it out when our privileges are called out.

When all of the above is implemented, then comes one more hope: that the privileged do not suddenly become the leaders/experts in the issues of the underprivileged. An example comes from male feminists or white guys in the Black Lives Matter movement: they read a book by a feminist woman or hear a sermon from a black preacher about police brutality and think they ought to take up the leadership of those causes. This is not how systemic oppression changes. It is merely the reincarnation of the same systemic oppressions with new masks of equality. So when a man points out his own feminist leanings and proceeds to take over a conversation, that man then undermines his feminist values (because feminism seeks the equality of all specifically by focusing on the inequality of women). So yes, this means that I cannot take over the discussion about women’s equality; we must empower the underprivileged to have equal footing as the privileged.

Some may not find any of this to be in accordance with Christian values, but the truth is that it has been my faith in Christ that has led me to all of these issues (and for what it’s worth, treating them only as “issues” is a privilege in and of itself). It was Jesus who led me to feminism and womanism. It was Jesus who led me to accept the marriages of the LGBTQ community as God ordained. It was the suffering and lynching of Jesus that led me to lament the suffering and lynches of the black community (yes, when a black child is shot dead for playing with a toy gun, that is a lynching). It was Jesus who taught me that every person was made in the image of God. All that I have been challenged with is really expanding my definition of what God looks like.

Even with this brief outline of why these things matter to me, I am drained. Why? Because it is quite likely that as I have written these words, someone in the U.S. has been killed because they’re black, gay, lesbian, bi-sexual, transgender, queer, Native, Mexican, Muslim, a woman, or some combination of these. Or some prominent Christian leader has said another racist thing about people he does not understand or care that much about to begin with (*cough, cough* Franklin Graham *cough, cough*). With as much as I could write about these issues, change still seems incredibly far off. But that does not mean that I can not hope in God who has poured the Spirit into us through Jesus of Nazareth.

May we all find the courage to follow where the Spirit leads and end oppression.

God bless.

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The Real Reward of Persistence…

During dinner the other night I decided to watch an episode of How I Met Your Mother. I’ve been cycling back through very slowly for the past year or so. If you haven’t yet watched through season 6, avert your eyes from this blog post until you do… unless you don’t mind spoilers, in which case, please keep reading.

It was a couple episodes after Marshall’s father passed away and Marshall was going through some serious self-reflections. He realized that his job wasn’t meaningful and he was upset that his dad never got to see “how he had turned out,” as Marshall put it. Marshall had wanted to become an environmental lawyer – something that had always made his father proud. But when his father passed away, he was just another corporate lawyer doing meaningless work for a decent amount of money. Marshall wasn’t okay with that.

While watching this episode, it sort of hit me: my grandpa has only seen me as the college or grad student, occasionally working a part-time job here and there to make ends meet. My grandpa will never get to see me realize the ambition of becoming a professor – something that I already know is a long shot in the field of biblical studies, but something I want nonetheless. After all, part of the decision to go to seminary in the effort of becoming a professor was to make my grandpa proud.

I think I felt quite like Marshall over this past summer. In between the end of summer semester and the beginning of fall, I started questioning the purpose of continuing on with more school, debt, and stress, especially if he wasn’t going to be there to see me achieve something. It felt like a waste of time to keep trying for something that has a slim chance of success anyhow, especially if my grandpa wouldn’t get to see it if I succeeded anyway.

Yet as the fall semester enters its third week, I’m beginning to realize that the real reason I had felt this way wasn’t because of my grandpa passing away; it was because of that little voice that tells me I have to earn acceptance, love, and value – things that my grandpa freely gave to me, even when he didn’t agree with the route I had chosen. Him not being able to see any future accomplishments is a huge bummer. But that doesn’t mean that he (or anybody else, really) had to be around to see it happen for it to have meaning. It doesn’t mean that the pursuit itself is worthless. And if I’m honest with myself, he wouldn’t want me to give up now, anyway (he didn’t want us to give up in anything we started, really).

Yesterday was spent doing nothing but Greek and Phoenician homework. While I was testing myself with the new vocab and memorizing all the consonants, I started to feel the sense of fulfillment I had in my first year. It wasn’t as intense, sure, but it was there. And I highly doubt that I’ll feel it every time I sit down to do homework, but to get a dose of it this early in the semester is a great feeling. At this point, all I can really do is keep going at it; keep checking off assignments one page at a time.

When it comes to achievements of really any kind, I don’t have to prove my worth to anyone. It’s there already. What I do have to do is prove that there are certain values my grandpa raised me with that I don’t want to let go of: doing all that I do to the best of my abilities, especially the things I enjoy. One of my favorite Proverbs carries a similar tone; “Do you see the one skillful in their work? They will stand before rulers; they will not stand before obscure ones.”[1]

My point here is not to work as hard and as well as you can in order to be rewarded, but to do so because the work itself is the reward. The things we take joy in, the things that require our time and energy – those are the things that shape us, in addition to hardships, losses of loved ones, and pain. To give up in any regard, to quit before you’re really tested, that is to cheat yourself out of an opportunity like no other to be developed in a certain way – a way that God may want you to be developed.

For Marshall, as I already know what happens, this means leaving his corporate job, but in order to do what he’s most passionate about: environmental law. For me, it means keep going with what I’m doing because, as I’m rapidly discovering again, this is what I’m most passionate about doing – even if I never become a biblical studies professor.

To make one more analogy, my favorite musicians aren’t the ones with the catchiest lyrics or the biggest fan bases; they’re the ones who lose themselves in their music – who cast aside all worry and just have fun with what they do. I can bet it’s hard work, sure. But I can also bet that it’s worth every bit of it.

The real reward of a joyful, ambitious persistence isn’t money, fame, or anything material.

It’s who you become in the process.

God bless.

[1] Prov. 22:29: Actual, literal translation of the Hebrew reads with the masculine pronoun, but the meaning is gender-neutral.

Setting Aside a Sabbath…

Books for this upcoming fall semester have arrived – well, most of them anyway; still waiting on two of them. From the looks of things, this ought to be the most challenging semester of school I’ve ever had. Instead of taking the minimum 8 credits (minimum to receive financial aid), I’m taking 12: Church History & Theology (3), Intro to the New Testament (3), Intro to New Testament Greek (3), and an independent study of Phoenician (3). Hebrew gave me frequent headaches all throughout last year, so I expect this semester to literally fry my brain (okay, I mean that in the figurative sense).

To help prepare for the expansive workload, I started scheduling out study sessions for each of my classes – shooting for close to 9 hours a week for each class outside of class time. Am I mad? Yes. But what I also sought to schedule out was something I’ve never really tried before: a Sabbath rest.

I think the biggest reason I scheduled out the day for Sabbath rest is because I had just finished a presentation on Sabbath rest for my Creation Theology class. Ultimately my conclusion was that a Sabbath rest isn’t like a day off from work; it’s the purpose for why we work. We rest not just to renew our energies for the upcoming work week, but to celebrate life as it is – without changing our altering anything.

Envisioning how a Sabbath day might work, I have a hard time shaking the way I first learned about the Sabbath – that it was a day for church, maybe a barbecue, and certainly for football, which works for both Saturdays and Sundays. However, when I think of how God, on the seventh day, let creation be as it was – simply stepping back and enjoying everything as is – I don’t find how some of these former ways of thinking actually fit. Certainly these communal acts are constructive, but they don’t have the particular focus that I have in mind.

In her article “Christian Formation in and for Sabbath Rest,” Dorothy Bass writes:

“Sabbath observers practice stepping off the treadmill of working and spending. They develop the capacity to disengage from consumer culture and to coexist in gratitude with nature and other people within the plenty of God’s creation and anticipate the future God intends for the world.”

What I envision for my fall semester is breaking off from anything that has to do with producing something and enjoying the people and world around me. Now although watching TV isn’t necessarily producing anything, it is still placing one’s focus away from the people and world around them onto a commercial activity. No, instead, I see my Sabbath rests being spent away from TVs, computers, and, yes, even cell phones so that I may have a better chance at enjoying the people and world around me.

Of course, actually committing to a schedule of any kind might be my biggest challenge for next semester, but committing to a Sabbath of rest – of true, genuine rest – will be a close second. This all may sound funny because I’m not Jewish, but the truth is, I have never read anywhere in the New Testament where the Sabbath was to be done away with. If anything, Jesus corrects how one ought to approach the Sabbath (placing the focus on life rather than simply not doing work); “The Sabbath was created for humans; humans weren’t created for the Sabbath,” (Mark 2:27, CEB). Taking a Sabbath ought to still be a prominent part of the Christian life.

My quality of work may or may not benefit from taking this Sabbath. But, as has been pointed out, that cannot be my focus. Instead, I want to go for runs or hikes; I want to have long chats with friends and family members without our cell phones (or with, depending on how far away they are); and I want to sit back and enjoy the created world as is, just as God had done.

Reality is, if I can make time for Netflix, I can make time for a Sabbath.

God bless.

“God blessed the seventh day and made it holy, because on it God rested from all the work of creation,” – Genesis 2:3, CEB

“The Sabbath is a day for the sake of life… The Sabbath is not for the sake of the weekdays; the weekdays are for the sake of Sabbath. It is not an interlude, but the climax of living,” – Abraham Joshua Heschel, The Sabbath, p. 14

Noah and the Bible…

Tonight my Old Testament class will be venturing over to a movie theater to watch the movie Noah. Although this particular class’ focus is on the latter prophets, most of us were in the earlier leg of this course, which included reading through the book of Genesis. No matter what, I’m pretty excited about it.

What I have found somewhat fascinating in recent days and weeks with this new movie is the rather polarized social media responses; either people loved it or absolutely hated it. I’m sure there are plenty of voices in between, but they just aren’t loud enough – especially when compared to those who would condemn the movie to the eternal flames of hell. While it might be tempting to chime in on whether the movie is great or terrible, I’d rather take a look at the story that inspired it.

As a way of making this whole experience feel somewhat academic, we were assigned Genesis 6-9 to read prior to class. Honestly, though, I think I would have at least skimmed the story a bit to catch up on “what actually happened,” but it’s probably better that it was assigned reading so that I’d be sure to read it. Nevertheless, there are some interesting things going on with the flood story in the Bible.

It starts off with an odd story about these “sons of God” who had taken human wives and bore these Nephilim characters (who were apparently giants). These Nephilim folks seem important to the story as a whole because then God sees the wickedness of the created world and subsequently laments (6:6-7). Perhaps these giants were rabble-rousers who utilized their size advantage for their own purposes (i.e. taking wives wherever they will)?

And then in God’s instructions to Noah about what to bring onto the ark, there seem to be two different sets of numbers as far as the animals are concerned. In 6:19, “And of every living thing, of all flesh, you shall bring two of every kind into the ark.” Yet in 7:2 it says, “Take with you seven pairs of all clean animals,” which, granted, specifies “clean animals,” which carries sacrifice connotations, but God doesn’t command Noah to sacrifice these animals at any point – Noah does anyway in 8:20, but not because of any command.

Another interesting thing going on is how long the flood actually lasted. 7:17 says, “The flood continued forty days on the earth,” while seven verses later it says, “And the water swelled on the earth for one hundred fifty days,” (v. 24). If that’s not confusing, chapter 8 has an odd passage of its own:

“At the end of one hundred fifty days the waters had abated; and in the seventh month, on the seventeenth day of the month, the ark came to rest on the mountains of Ararat. The waters continued to abate until the tenth month; in the tenth month, on the first day of the tenth month, the tops of the mountains appeared,” – vv. 3b-5

How could the ark come “to rest on the mountains of Ararat” if the mountain tops hadn’t appeared for another two and a half months? If the Ararat mountains were incredibly taller than most other mountains, then that’d make a little more sense. But wouldn’t the author say the mountain tops appeared before the ark came to rest on them?

Noah’s sending of the birds also seems a little strange: first bird is a raven that “went to and fro until the waters were dried up from the earth,” (8:7). His second bird was a dove that seems to have gone out three times to check for a dry place to land, but what strikes me as odd is if the raven dried things up, why need to send the dove?

My point with this post is not to nit-pick the Bible, but merely to highlight the difficulty of critiquing a movie in its accuracy of an odd story. I also think this further points to our typical way of approaching the creation stories altogether (with an inherent understanding of “this is how it factually happened”) and how problematic it is to come to an incredibly ancient text with all sorts of expectations or demands even – such things that the text might never have been meant to fulfill in the first place. Bear in mind, Noah’s Ark is a flood story written after other Ancient Near Eastern stories (i.e. Epic of Gilgamesh), which might suggest a different purpose to the biblical[1] account; less about “what actually happened” and perhaps more about ancient Israel establishing themselves as a people with a story with a powerful God at the helm.

So before I even watch the movie, I’m already setting aside any expectations to how accurate the story is to “how it actually happened” and simply allowing myself to enjoy the story of the movie. As I’ve mentioned before, movie writers make intentional changes for the purposes of their story; not to simply regurgitate another’s story verbatim. If we’re irritated by how their version doesn’t fit our mold, then we’re missing out on what their version is trying to say.

God bless.

 

For further reading:

“Will Noah Sink or Swim? The Buoyancy of the Latest Bible Film,” Paul N. Anderson, Professor of Biblical and Quaker Studies, George Fox University

“My spot on editorial on a movie I haven’t seen (or, OMG “NOAH” GETS THE BIBLE WRONG!!),” Peter Enns, Author of Evolution of Adam

 

[1] Texts of or related to the Bible; not “doctrinally sound view”

On Being a Seminarian: “Come a Little Closer”…

This is part of a weekend series I’m writing for Near Emmaus. Be sure to check out other posts by other blogs, especially if you’re interested in biblical studies.

I have never been much of a traveler. Many of my friends from college and even high school have been to more countries than I have cities. My biggest trip was to Marietta, Georgia the summer after sixth grade. My second biggest trip was later that year when my grandpa took my brother and I to Disneyland for Christmas. In fact that was actually the last time I’ve ever flown on a plane. And no, I have never left the country before.

If there ever were one country I would want to go to – even if only for a day or two – it’d be England. Many of my favorite authors either lived there or still live there and I’m a recent Whovian and Sherlock convert (I have yet to meet anyone who was a fan of one, but not the other; hardly think it’s even possible). And of course, James Bond is among my favorite movie series. All of this, mind you, has been true for a while – yes, before Sherlock and Doctor Who.

If you had told me three weeks ago that I’d be accepted for an all-expenses-paid two-week trip to the Logos Conference in Oxford this summer, I would not have believed you. And yet, after only a week and a half of waiting, I have been invited to attend. For two weeks we’ll be listening to lectures on Oxford, scholarship, current issues in textual studies, as well as touring the University and even a few bits of London (small things like the British Museum and the British Library). It’s an opportunity that I could never have dreamed up.

What has come to mind in the wake of receiving such an invitation, though, is where I was a year ago. I was still living in Eugene, working a part-time job, and finishing up seminary applications. As I was writing those applications, though, I was nervous about the changes to come. I was nervous because I had a lot of wonderful things going for me in Eugene: my job (despite part-time hours), my roommate, my church – all were going really well and I was enjoying every bit of it. I hesitated in submitting those seminary applications – although briefly – because I wasn’t sure if I wanted to give all those things up.

And yet if I hadn’t, I wouldn’t be going to Oxford.

At George Fox University this weekend is the 2014 Faith and Culture Writers Conference. And although I could write about each of the five speakers from last night, Deidra Riggs’ words ring most relevant to me this week. She talked about a day when she was prompted by God to “come a little closer” – a process that led her from her couch to a frozen stream where she witnessed a sign of Spring’s arrival. If she had never left her couch to “come a little closer,” she would never have had that unique opportunity to experience God’s creation.

In a similar way, if I hadn’t “come a little closer” by leaving familiarity and comfort in Eugene, I would never had this opportunity to experience another country – one of my favorites, nonetheless!

My take away from it all is that God seems to surprise us with opportunities we didn’t know we even wanted. Yet this only seems to happen after we’ve moved in faith. It doesn’t need to be a literal move from one city or school to another; but after we’ve decided to act in faith.

Where, in your own setting, do you feel God is drawing you to “come a little closer”? A new school? City? Or simply walk to a frozen stream?

On Being a Seminarian: A Wonderful Exhaustion…

This is part of a weekend series I’m writing for Near Emmaus. Be sure to check out other posts by other blogs, especially if you’re interested in biblical studies.

A couple years ago, I was really into running. I still go for a jog or two every now and then (with a few months in between jogs), but back then I was running nearly every day. Sometimes it was only a mile or two. Other times it was three or four miles. Once, to train for a 10k (6.2 miles), I ran a little over nine miles. I know these distances may not be very far for some, but for an asthmatic like myself, they were oftentimes torturous.

If it was such torture, then why did I do it? Why did I push myself through something as boring and miserable as running seems? For one thing, I needed the exercise (still do). For another, although the process wreaked havoc on my lungs, I enjoyed the “runner’s high” afterward (the extra boost of endorphins after a good workout). And after my recent Hebrew class, I had a similar feeling once I got home.

In the first semester of Hebrew, it was all about learning the grammar. For the second semester, it’s all about translating. There’s no final exam; mostly small assignments and displaying an efficient ability to read the language. And as I am quickly finding out, translating Hebrew is a lot like going for a long run for the first time: I’m exercising brain muscles I didn’t even know I had.

Such a feeling, though, isn’t applicable only to translating languages. I had that feeling again on Tuesday when I finished a fair amount of critical reading for my “Paul and the Law” class. Reading biblical scholarship is a style I’m still getting used to. I can’t let my mind check out for a paragraph or two and jump back in without really missing much. If I’m seeking to understand the scholar, I have to read more slowly and carefully lest I miss something important. Yet reading in this way, at least for me, requires a lot more mental energy. Like with Hebrew, I’m working brain muscles I didn’t know were there.

None of this is intended to suggest that seminary is too much work. One must take only as much as one can bear, but I believe I have a reasonably-sized workload this semester that’ll push me beyond the limits I thought I had. Again, I think of an example from my running experiences.

In 2012, Eugene hosted the Olympic Trials. There were a couple days in the middle of the trials when no athletes were competing. So, to keep people interested in the event, a local track club held an all-comers meet with several different running events. I chose to give it a whirl just for fun and signed up for the “jogger’s” mile. We were asked to write our expected time on our name tags so they could group us together with more efficiency. Not feeling like any record breaker, I put 6:45/mile. When it came time to run the event, I chose to run with the 6:15/mile group to see if I might get pulled to a faster pace. Sure enough, I ran the mile in 5:50, tying my high school best. So much for it being a “jogger’s” mile.

My point here is that seminary is becoming wonderfully exhausting. I don’t always get the “runner’s high” after every assignment or reading binge, but I get it enough to know that this is something I truly enjoy – this process of being pushed and pulled to a faster pace of studying and learning. I’m not sure if I’ll feel this way come the final weeks of this semester with my two 10-12 page research papers coming due, but for now, it’s a feeling I’m trying to harness and utilize to get through each assignment. Sometimes, in order to test our true abilities, we need to be pushed beyond what we thought we could handle. We need to be pulled to a faster pace.

With all that said, I think this raises an important issue for many seminarians: How much is too much? It also involves asking ourselves a tough question: Is this difficult challenge a healthy one or is it legitimately burning us out? If the latter, what are all the factors contributing to the “burn out” feeling? Too much ministry involvement? Poor time management? (I’m guilty of that one, but I think God is a Doctor Who fan, so I think He understands.) What’s your experience when it comes to the workload of seminary, your PhD work, or your everyday life? 

On Being a Seminarian: Balance Between Faith and Scholarship…

This is my second post as a part of a series for Near Emmaus. Feel free to view it there or view other posts by the other bloggers.

I mentioned in another post it was possible, but ever since I’ve been wondering exactly how? How are we to dive into texts written by scholars who may not share the same faith that we do and would therefore feel no reluctance to unravel the biblical text? And in that process of unraveling things, how do we press on in believing in Jesus when the very things we believe about Him are brought under critical light?

This process of finding a balance between faith and scholarship has become much more important in recent weeks. At George Fox Seminary, one professor is set to retire at the end of the year and we’ve been hearing from potential replacements every now and then. I can share no further details beyond that, but I can say that one thing I’ve come to realize is that in order for a seminary professor to have an impact on the students they teach – students, mind you, who are being trained for church leadership, ministry, and academia – they must have a strong balance between walking with Jesus and teaching leaders how to critically engage the biblical text and their surrounding cultures.

It means for me, the seminarian, I’m in the process of developing said balance. It’s one I began a long time ago at the U of O, but one I know is not quite finished, yet. Nearly every class I encounter a new perspective, a new challenge that stirs my thoughts and rattles the cages of my neatly-formed beliefs. If I was just now beginning that process of developing a balance, I am not sure how I would react. I might start doubting everything I was ever taught about Jesus and maybe even walk away from seminary. I am not saying that this is what you will go through if you are now beginning that process as you enter seminary; I’m saying this is what I might have done had I not begun that process long ago. So why am I not walking away?

Finding the balance I think is different in exact details for everyone, but ultimately boils down to being comfortable in engaging new ideas. Allowing those ideas to rattle the cages and shake up one’s beliefs will not only test the durability of those beliefs, but perhaps replace the beliefs that don’t hold up. Such a process is sometimes exhausting, but sometimes instant. Sometimes someone in class says that one thing and all of a sudden the light bulb goes on and a theological alteration (perhaps only a subtle one) takes place.

Long ago, I read Mere Christianity by C.S. Lewis. At the time, I was wrestling with a supposed controversial doctrine and felt a lot of pressure to simply believe in it. Yet, I wasn’t convinced. The new idea was rattling the cages and the old idea, the one I was pressured to hold onto, wasn’t holding up. When I read this passage, I felt at home in allowing the new idea to replace the old:

“God is no fonder of intellectual slackers than of any other slackers. If you are thinking of becoming a Christian, I warn you, you are embarking on something which is going to take the whole of you, brains and all. But, fortunately, it works the other way round. Anyone who is honestly trying to be a Christian will soon find his intelligence being sharpened: one of the reasons why it needs no special education to be a Christian is that Christianity is an education itself.”[1]

In your journey with God, where have you found comfort and solace in processing new ideas? Where is your balance point between faith and academics? Or are you like me, still developing one?


[1] C.S. Lewis, Mere Christianity (HarperCollins, 2003), 78