Brainwaves

My sister called this morning. A younger cousin, one with whom I had only occasional contact down through the years, has died. Cancer. He’d undergone heart by-pass surgery quite awhile ago, but those cigarettes do tend to get you one way or another sooner or later. In truth, I never really knew Bobbie. He was one of six children sired by three different fathers, his own dad being killed in a naval battle during WWII. They grew up in the inner city of Covington, just across from the bigger metropolis of Cincinnati. To the best of my knowledge, a religious faith was never anything he embraced anywhere in his life; but, then, knowing what I do know of his upbringing, I’d bet he also had little or no witness of the Gospel within his life-span. The news hits me as it usually does: I look back and remember weekend excursions with the family “clan”, camping on the river bank down around Cynthiana, I marvel at how quickly so much time has passed, and I ponder God’s hand in the whole affair………….

Actually, it occurs to me that, in approaching sixty-five and with over three decades inside the Pentecostal aspect of Christianity, my relationship with the Church can be viewed with much the same sentiments. Way back there, in the beginning, the holiness version of legality may have been “part of the program”, but I was in too deep, over my head into Jesus, to sweat the small stuff. The doors were open, somewhere, close to seven nights a week and wading through the worship almost always found me swimming in a manifestation of His presence. Granted: some might interpret the experience as being no more than emotionally contrived; but I would suggest that, while emotion certainly enters into the scenario, there exists no explanation for a divine “connection” other than Divinity. In that sense, those days are precious to me. You go; you grow; time marches on. God remains God; the prayer closet continues to feed your soul; but this isn’t the seventies. Much has changed; and quite often I ponder God’s hand in the “big picture”…………..

Within the broad spectrum of the faith, let’s just be truthful. Under the premise “As it was in the beginning, it now and evermore shall be”, many have set their individual perspective on chapter and verse into cement and are living in the dark ages. In the same way, to this old man’s way of thinking, there are also those who “boldly go where no man has gone before”, turning Scripture into fantasy and church into big business. Somewhere in-between is God’s voice. I wish to pass judgment on no man, merely to find my own way in the wilderness; and therefore that includes realizing my own vulnerability in the journey. Looking back, it seems to me, is as important as trying to determine the next step. Tradition. Heritage. Good memories. These things are surely part of who I am; but my desire is to be anchored in Him, not my past. Even anchored in Him, though, it’s possible to confuse your voice with His. That’s why, in making sure He’s the one still navigating, I like at least an occasional authentication of God’s hand in my life…………..

They say the average blogger lasts about two years. How true that is, I don’t know; but, if I’m not mistaken, this old man’s been keeping a journal of some sort for nearly half a decade now. I started out in something called Diaryland, lured there via a friend from church who’s pretty much, not just an entertaining writer, but also a bit of a guru at just about anything he puts his mind to. When the time came to boldly go where this man had never gone before, though, a San Antonio Texan volunteered his skills, not knowing it would lead to a few more desperate cries for help along the way. Today, thanks to a sneaky plan set in motion by his wife, Amy, I got to sit down at a table in Bob Evans not more than a few minutes from home and enjoy meeting them both in person! As an added plus, Amy blessed us with a phone call put through to Gordon of “Real Live Preacher” fame (They are members of his church) and we all sat there for a few moments conversing with “the man”! Clarence (my local blogging buddy) was also there, of course, and took pictures. I told you he was wicked with technology. You can view them here. Great people, Michael and Amy. Both a bit thinner and looking quite younger than I had them in my mind, but both with the same Christian witness and all around pleasant personality that one determines from reading them on a regular basis. Now, somehow, I’ve got to figure out how to do tacos with them one of these days down there in Alamo land……..

“One of the first obligations of the Christian who hopes to be of some influence and helpfulness to his own generation is to consider himself a part of it. He cannot do much as a mere bystander, obviously belonging to another age, either in his mood or mental attitude. Christianity seeks a reproduction of the Christ-Spirit; and that spirit can be easily translated into the speech, conduct, and ambitions of every citizen of this earth, regardless of his background or outlook. And if Christianity were ever left utterly without words to express itself, it could still make its way by the universal gesture of the outstretched hand: “Come. Come all ye that labor and are heavy laden. Come”……Lloyd Douglas, “The Living Faith”

When you speak the word “church” within both the Christian community and the world at large, it’s probably true that the way it is received depends upon whatever experience any individual has had with that particular branch he or she has encountered along the way. My own entrance into the faith came via a small, old-time, “holiness” assembly over thirty-four years ago. It lost most of the “legality” as we went, grew in size as it did, and then gradually absorbed the Charismatic wave that swept through in late 80’s, early 90’s until, at least to this old man’s eyes, it now resembles television evangelism. While I disagree with where we have presently arrived, I’m personally of the opinion that, in the end, it will be a man’s heart, not particularly his theology, that will count and, in that respect, I love the way Mr. Douglas has simplified matters in the above quote…………

Within the Body of Christ, one finds a diverse mixture of those who claim to believe. Our programs and doctrinal statements would, in no way, suggest to others that the foundation for who and what we are has been garnered from the same Book. We split the infinitive, parse the text, and return to both the Greek and the Hebrew roots to manifest our genius in explaining the message, each of us claiming we, alone, have conquered truth. If Catholic devotees speak of “tradition” holding a revered place within their structure, we Protestants like to protest; but we, ourselves, do no less. Ours just doesn’t filter down from Rome. And so it remains: People are people. The Blood may wash away our sins, but it hasn’t yet cured our humanity. What we possess in Him is a flow; and it’s up to us how often we fill up from on high and how much we extend it unto each other and the world around us……

Between rain and ninety degree weather, keeping my grass cut has been a checkers game. Okay. I’ve got the front done. Your move, Mother Nature. When the lawn tractor gave up the ghost last year, it seemed to me that, with a little wisdom, the push mower is actually good exercise. I may be approaching sixty-five, but it’s not over yet. Besides, it’s as good a time as any to pursue that which I enjoy: sorting out, in my brain, the facts as I know them. One can never be sure where I may be at any given moment; and, for that matter, I’m never sure what might interrupt my train of thought and take me in a different direction. Today, with the grass being temporarily defeated, it seemed a good idea to trim the hedges on either side of the steps at the main entrance and when the neighbor’s car up alongside me, it disturbed me very little. It wasn’t until she squealed going up her stairs that she actually caught my attention. “Did you see that?” she cried with excitement; “THAT was a miracle!” Carrying an armload of McDonalds, she had lost her grip on a container of coke; but, in hitting the ground, it had simply connected with the cement and sat there without spilling. “No lid on it, either”, she continued; “Now that’s God!”………………

It’s interesting to me where we find faith. We walk apart from any real knowledge of Him, yet are as quick to find Him responsible for tragedy as we are to declare His hand in some random, trivial circumstance that occurs in our favor. His identity is a word we toss around, not with any recognition of His omnipotence, but as a label for that which we do not understand. Ask us if we believe and the majority will answer in the affirmative. What is it, though, that we believe? To be sure, as Christians, we rest our statements of faith upon the Book, but there is no denying that, in allowing for our ability to take truth into left field, as a religion, we’ve certainly created from its pages enough different versions of what we think truth to be. So, in quoting me the Bible, I may recognize that much of your foundation as being “inspired”, I may even respect the sincerity of your heart, but still hold your interpretation of the Scripture akin to poppycock. The beauty of that, of course, is you’re quite welcome to do the same with mine. Nonetheless, having recently read another man’s credo, I thought I might attempt to put my own down on paper, if for no other reason than to gather it together and examine it myself……………...

I believe: (1) in a Word that extends unto me hope (Romans 8:24). While I am always left with the knowledge of my humanity and His divinity, yet I read, within its volume, of His love for me and dare to take the next step. (2) in a Life (Romans 5:10) resurrected to indwell me, bringing me an assurance, from time to time, of the reality of His promise. It breathes into my soul all that He is and serves as an anchor-line for my journey. (3) in a Grace (Ephesians 2: 8) that is more than a judgment I, myself, conclude. Indeed, it is established through a faith not of my own making and it meets me again and again as I stumble down the road. (4) in a rest (Isaiah 30:15) found only in Him and thereby requiring a frequent return to the point of connection. The well may have been re-dug, but the water therein didn’t eternally turn me into “super saint”. Authority, tongues, and any other gift one might wish to name, including forgiveness, are all wrapped up in a flow of the Holy Ghost. Going back to the fountain for regular pit-stops, then, is part of the package. No use in going any farther with this, though, for I‘m back where I started. Put Christ in the center of the circle and you’ve got my theology in a nutshell. It “works for me”…………….

The room was packed. Kitchen transformed into sanctuary. Tables lined along either wall and folding chairs arranged between so as to accommodate close to fifty men. Someone noted it was easier to find warmth in winter than to get out of the heat in mid-summer. At any rate, there was not a familiar face in the bunch. Usually I can find a few, even though our visits are but monthly. When the three-month program concludes, I suppose, people move on, hopefully, with a new job and a bit of a foundation in their existence. Some over-nighters frequent the place often enough to establish rapport with those in authority; but, on this evening, all look to be fresh. Sobriety is demanded. A good meal and shower facilities downstairs have them ready for church; and that’s what we try to give them. Not some finger-in-your-face, vocal hammering of chapter and verse, but opportunity for Christ to come forth…………

Appearance, if nothing else, reminds you where you are. Nobody’s wearing Sunday morning finery. Denims, cut-offs, and ball caps. Clothing is clean, but showing evidence it wasn’t just recently purchased from Wal-Mart. Faces look tired, for the most part. Life isn’t easy in their neck of the woods. A black man in his late twenties had witnessed to us earlier in front of the mission of being attacked by a gang of youths the day before. His face was marked in several places where a tossed brick or rock had found its target. Environment. Addiction. Whatever. I wouldn’t argue that most aren’t there out of nothing more than bad choices along the way. I’d also bet that most would admit to that fact; and, in that truth, hope, not judgment, is what they need to hear. A sense of value. Knowledge they’re not so far down that, in looking up, they find Him there, alive in their midst……………

Charity is meeting their physical needs. Love is saying: “You are my brother; let’s worship God together.” They’ve heard all the religious, doctrinal dogma before. Some have dumped it all into the same bowl and think themselves quite adept at explaining it to you. Others, of course, are not interested; and it could be for a number of reasons. Bring them into the service, however; open it up for them to take part. Stir the waters and let a good flow of the Holy Ghost fill the place. You don’t have to do anything other than let Jesus set His own table. We sing. We testify. We end in prayer. For their children. For their families. For Jesus to meet them right where they are and to go with them into wherever tomorrow takes them. The Word gets in there. It just isn’t preached from a pulpit of condemnation. Set up a huge urn of hot coffee and there’s always time for a bit of fellowship and questions afterwards……………

Quizzes that supposedly determine some sort of category into which you fit or a particular person with whom you identify are not usually something that interest me. The questions they ask always seem to have no answer that can be easily be reduced to merely inserting a checkmark in provided box. Nonetheless, wondering what particular theologian’s brain might have been as “far out” as my own, I followed a link and registered my opinions. Twice. You’d think you might just get different results if the second version didn’t exactly mimic my first set of responses. Wrong. Both times, the creator of this precision-tuned inquisition informed me my ninety-some percent clone in dissecting Biblical propositions is some fellow named Anselm. A quick google, then, enlightened me as to his being a Benedictine monk appointed archbishop of Canterbury in 1093. His argument for assigning faith priority over reasoning appealed to me, but his phraseology about gaining an understanding of God left me swimming in deep water……………..

Examining the religious tenets of Christianity is a meal that feeds my soul even as it increases my appetite to know more; and it’s not so much about making me “smart” as it is about understanding my relationship with the Creator as we take this journey together. When humanity’s explanations, however, begin to resemble something akin to quantum physics, it doesn’t take long to lose me in all the linguistic soup. Start a conversation with intent to explore the Immaculate Conception and then throw in terms like “Traducianism” and “Docetism” while quoting from scholar like Platinga, Pelikan, and an un-named Byzantine-Ukranian Catholic monk, and you’ve soon got me scratching my head, wondering if it takes a college degree to sit down with the Holy Ghost. While I recognize and appreciate the benefits of an education, somehow it seems to me, like the Pharisees of old, you can get so wrapped up in dissecting dogma, you lose Christ in the process. Lose Him, and theology becomes no more than someone’s theory…………….

At the age of twelve, Jesus sat in the temple astonishing the “doctors” with His understanding and answers concerning religious matters. In His early thirties, having entered into ministry and now in a legal status according to Jewish law to be about “His Father’s business”, He sat a child before the disciples and taught them a lesson in humility. In seeking truth, may we never grow old. May there always be a hunger to know Him and the good sense to know we can never conquer Him. He walks with us on the road to Emmaus and our heart burns within us as He opens to us the Scripture. He is the living Word, the breath of God, the fourth Man in the fire; and reducing the Book to individual jots and tittles doesn’t guarantee you end up with His presence in the Greek translation. If you start with the wind and catch the flow, however, you may find yourself suddenly, seemingly, alone in the chariot, but you’ll go your way rejoicing. Who knows? You may even take a detour and follow Him to Doodlefork………………

About an hour south on 71 out of northern Kentucky, we took the Carrolton exit and then followed the river until we could cross into Indiana. I’ve long teased that entering the Hoosier state is like stepping back in time, but, in truth, it’s no more than leaving the “big city scenario” that dominates my own surroundings. The same absence of monster malls, chain-food restaurants, and industrial pollution can be found in the Blue Grass. It only requires a willingness to vacate the expressway. Father’s Day, I suppose, had instigated our expedition. The son-in-law is an outdoorsman and was taking his two boys on a weekend camping trip. Papaw saw a bit of history in the making and crashed the party. A tent, a sleeping bag, and some hotdogs over an open fire. It sounded like fun at the time. Saturday’s ninety degree heat, however, found me seated beneath an umbrella at the park pool absorbing how, even in the middle of nowhere, tattoos, body-piercing, and a complete lack of embarrassment about walking around half-naked has infiltrated our culture…………..

Small town America. We’re not all Cincinnati and San Francisco. This is a diverse nation in more ways than one and held together by our heritage as much as anything else. Not that we’re unified in our belief in a literal translation of “all men are created equal”. We’re STILL, or so it seems, working out some of the details built into our Constitution. From coast to coast, though, from Maine to Mississippi, we are united. If in neither our politics or our theology, at least in our commitment to the idea that every man, woman, and child has a right to their own opinion. That particular liberty, of course, and an extra seventy-five cents might get you a bottle of coca-cola. It also might get you a fat lip. Either way, however, you are entitled to share it if you so desire; and whether vocally administered, written down for posterity’s benefit, or physically stated in terms of a diamond safety pin penetrating your naval cavity, it’s your privilege. Have at it. Just remember: (a) How you deliver it helps; (b) Timing and location are both factors; and (c) If you’re talking to your wife, it’s every man for himself……………

I’m serious. The Bible tells us that wisdom is justified of her children; and, in my own situation, I opted not to grab the lifeguard’s bullhorn and begin to preach the Eleventh Chapter of Revelation. Instead, it appeared to be more prudent to simply purchase a bottle of cold water, a warm pretzel sans salt, and sit there at a table in the shade cataloguing the picture before me. People. People enjoying a hot summer’s day. A long line of kids and adults, alike, ascending the stairs to a huge waterslide that spiraled twice before shooting them into a liquid refresher. Kids and teenagers filing forward to take their individual turn at performing some sort of aerial free-fall off a ground-level diving board. A multitude of collapsible lawn-chairs scattered around the perimeter, all occupied by that branch of humanity which finds solar-broiling their buns to be relaxing. Contemplating the entire agenda, I was pretty sure that, if Jesus were to suddenly honor us with His presence, He’d probably do no more than mingle with the crowd, let conversation take its course, maybe throw in a parable or two, and then move on, leaving someone to say: “Nice guy. Did he mention where he’s from?”………………

For mid-week service, last night, we were introduced to a few film clips of Lee Strobel and some historian discussing the Da Vinci Code. This was no panic-induced attack against the movie. Our pastor freely admitted to having already attended a showing and a few of us “confessed” to having read the book. In his normal fashion, the man-in-charge was simply inviting the congregation into a conversation on the matter, feeling it better to put it out in the open rather than sweep it under a rug. I was surprised, actually, to discover that many believers who could explore the subject while maintaining a Christ-like spirit over the whole affair, but was a little “uncomfortable” with posting eight questions on the screen concerning one’s beliefs about the Bible. It was toward the end and I wish I had thought to copy them down. No exploratory interaction here. Just individual pondering the query as presented. Oh, how I would have liked to “stir that pot”, but recognized the source of such desires and remained silent. How true, though, that how we perceive the Book is indeed the foundation of who we are in our walk. Faith is not the power source, but is only as strong as that into which it is entrusted……………….

My buddy, Steve, took the time to comment twice on my last post, the second being an apology for mis-typing Christ with a lower case “c” in his first entry. No offense was taken, of course, but the incident only struck me right where my thoughts were at the moment. A failure to reach with the pinky and catch the “shift” key is certainly no big deal. Then, again, there are no doubt those who might find it blasphemy. In one place, Jesus spoke of His not removing one “jot nor tittle” from the Law and I’m told that, in fact, when the Scribes made copies of the Torah, every little bit of punctuation was held to be sacred. Yet, with His rendering of the Word, the Lord “blew apart” the religious totem the Pharisees had forged out of chapter and verse. Somewhere in their self-assigned duties as interpreters of God’s voice unto the people, the religious hierarchy of the day had not only deified the parchment and ink, but also themselves. Isaiah 65:5 states it quite plainly………………

While I don’t think the majority of Christianity has lost sight of Who is holy and who is not, I am of the opinion we have erred in our relationship with the Literature we hold as the “bottom line” for our doctrinal tenets. Do I hold it to be divinely inspired as both Peter and Paul would declare it to be? No argument; but is it not possible for men even today to know the same anointing? And if so, is it the Book that sets them temporarily into such “supernatural status” or the same Spirit that breathed upon the early prophets? I’ve long talked about those within the community of television evangelism who appear to see themselves appointed to direct the Holy Ghost rather than the other way around; but, in truth, most of us do much the same thing. We’re usually just not as theatrical in our delivery. That doesn’t mean, however, that our deciphering of the text doesn’t seem to have God seated on His throne and ready to pull the “to Hell” lever on all who have failed to come to the same understanding……………….

I bought a bit of reading this afternoon entitled “Religiously Transmitted Diseases”. Its preface contained an analogy that ended with this admonition: “Disease does that. It destroys things-things that were once wonderful. Like faith…”

With summer vacation here, my daily schedule isn’t so tight that some links on my sidebar don’t get visited on a regular basis. It’s an odd mixture, to be sure. A few old friends who remain from my entrance into Diaryland about six years ago. Some new friends I’ve met in Blogdom and with whom I share e-mail from time to time. Some who are familiar with me only through comments occasionally dropped on their site. One comical, imp of an old man who lives nearby, mentored with me in Sunday School class, and talked me into this addiction way back when. My passion, of course, is Christ; and scattered through the above is a varied denominational package of those who share it. I love to read others’ thoughts on the Gospel, enjoy discussion about disagreement, and am disappointed when discourse becomes heated. It’s a sure sign He is not in it…………..

The last couple of days I’ve been following two such agendas, both, strangely enough, dealing with Catholicism. The one is set up so as to notify me of new input and it has almost became a chore keeping my Insight account purged of the flood. The subject established for investigation is whether Mary’s mortal virginity was perpetual. The other is considering the bold accusation that the beast of Revelation and the Anti-Christ are synonymous with the Vatican. Believe it or not, it quotes the likes of such renown men as Calvin, Wesley, Spurgeon, and Martin Luther. I wasn’t all that surprise about the list, actually. As little as three decades ago, before “charisma” swept through this country, bleeding into everything out there, it was common to hear sermons put forth from Protestant pulpits with a finger pointed toward Rome. Signs of the times…………

While I’m as quick as anybody else, however, to jump into the enigmas of such mysteries, the first question we must ask ourselves in taking the plunge has to be: How does the conclusion of this matter affect anyone’s relationship with the Almighty? I mean, whether or not Joseph’s wife remained celibate has little to do with our salvation unless one falls down to worship her rather than the Savior; and I’d tell you she’s not the only item out there before which men might fall down. Some do it with their possessions. Some even do it with their ministries. In that sense, we all must take caution. It’s not the obvious that snares us, but the guy within. Even so, I think, the icons in John’s vision are as he, himself, noted in his letters unto the early Church. There is a spirit that deceives and can arise in any not led by the Other. It signed in long ago…………..

A recent commitment to re-reading the Pauline Epistles has me about halfway through the Book of 2nd Corinthians. In thirty-four years, I’ve devoured the Bible from cover to cover too many times to put a number to it, but readily admit to mostly settling down in the four Gospels since walking away from Sunday School. To be truthful, this is the guy I’d like to sit down with some day and have him explain a few verses he put to print. While I value his contributions to the New Testament, much of his sentiments, as far as I’m concerned, need to be taken within the framework of the culture period wherein he existed. Of course, that sort of statement immediately gets you in trouble with some believers; but, while the Church, for the most part, tends to view the Scripture as being divinely cemented in place, I don’t know of any who adhere to the letter of the Word in all aspects………..

Let’s face it: It is written (a) women should remain silent in the churches; (b) if a man have long hair, it is a shame unto him; and (c) owe no man anything. I could continue. There’s more. Much more; and it’s only “legalism” when you attempt to hold such standards as a demand for others. Other than that, however, it seems to me it’s your business if you want to live under first century Middle East traditions. Just forgive the rest of us who realize that time marches on. Granted: some of us do so prabably a little too much. I do, in fact, admit to being a bit embarrassed with where we have taken it; but, then, back when I stepped into this, they actually banned a song from local radio because the fellow was singing about “getting ideas” when his girlfriend danced “dangerously close” to him. There's not much doubt about it. We’ve certainly "come a long way, baby"…………

To think that we have arrived, though, where “no man has gone before”, to think that our understanding of the message has changed, “evolved”, if you will, to the point where we’ve achieved what the older generation missed, the correct diagnosis of chapter and verse, seems a bit conceited to me. If God’s meaning can so be twisted to meet us where we are in our social status and preferences, then I venture to say that somewhere along the line He’ll see nothing wrong with anything we choose to be or do. No; from the beginning, it’s never been about our being able to conquer the text; rather, a matter of He Who lives within the text conquering our heart. Our problem within the ecclesiastical community is: we try to sell our doctrine instead of freely offer the gift of Christ……………..

Eleven days into summer vacation and I find my thoughts already gearing toward next year’s assignment. It’s not in me, I suppose, to just sit. Then, again, when you enjoy something, while a break every so often might be nice, “life” is that which feeds the inner man. The picture that comes to mind is a whale returning to the surface for a breath of air, but knowing its existence in the ocean’s depths. Wrestling with words before putting them to paper is relaxing. Not being tied down to any daily commitment is nice. But working with kids is fun and puts purpose into who I am. There’s still another week in Florida planned for the first week in July. We’re taking a couple of days afterward to rendezvous with my brother’s family down in Bowling Green. It is school, however, that calls to me in my mind.………

Wednesday evening my pastor greeted me just inside the door with a smile. It took but just one look around the foyer to comprehend he wasn’t just happy to see me. Music coming from the children’s sanctuary plus a few of the munchkins, themselves, streaming through the foyer in Hawaiian attire reminded me it was that time of year again. Church dismissed for VBS. Being out of town last Sunday, I failed to get the reminder. No big deal. The other sanctuary was not in use and, even though a noisy group of tropical party-goers passed through a few times, their excitement didn’t interfere with my prayer. In the beginning, thirty-four years ago, newly born into Pentecostal worship, missing a service was tantamount to cutting out my heart. I lived to get lost in His presence. Still do. I’ve just learned “church” doesn’t necessarily define it………

This morning there were just three of us. The gymnasium was full, the back wall lined with an unusual amount of girls on this occasion. Big Bob started us off. No notes. Speaking from his heart and relating from memory his mother once picking him up at a place like this and then driving him up to his father’s grave. For fifteen minutes the Spirit flowed; and, when Larry caught the baton, the anointing remained. It always amazes me how God ties together our individual contributions and provides a meal. I sang an old hymn that you’d think wouldn’t connect with that age group, but something more than this old man’s voice brought it forth and, for sixty minutes, that room in the Youth Detention Center wasn’t about enduring a sermon. It was God in our midst. We were one body, centered on Him; and now it’s five weeks until we can do it again………..

There’s an interesting post over on Out of Ur dealing with “un-religion” and “dead frogs”. While beneath the umbrella over the term “emerging church” can certainly be found every bit as much humanity as anywhere else within the framework of Christianity, it is also true that I sense there a sweet fragrance of “freshness” and a strong hint of people hungry to know “the real deal”, not just some doctrinal totem. When I read mention of the coming of a “cosmic Christ”, though, it did make me just a tad nervous. I’m not so sure I agree with most of what Matthew Fox suggests, for, to my mind, the only “divine status” believers have obtained is an indwelling of the Spirit and that, in no way, translates to a complete loss of our former identity. On the other hand, when he speaks of the religious institution having constricted Jesus by form-fitting Him to individual, dogmatic definitions of the Gospel, common ground is created for us to discuss other issues...........

If the ecclesiastical community is split in any area, it seems to me it is in their view of the Savior, the one point that supposedly brings us all into focus. Exactly what is it that separates us once we step back from the focal point and begin to think for ourselves if not reducing the divine Reality to no more than our interpretation of the Bible? Personally, I divide the whole kit and caboodle into two camps: (a) those who dismiss any and all tangible manifestation of the Holy Ghost; and (b) those who consider themselves in control of the Holy Ghost. If a line is drawn, however, straight down the middle, between the two, to represent the Voice of God; and each label is then attached to the extreme fringe on either side, I realize there exists, swimming in all that mess, those who yet try to navigate by the anchor line in their belly and not just “the law” established by their particular political authority. Membership doesn’t necessarily mean you’ve been cloned………….

Let me put it another way: Someone in the comments over on the Pilgrim’s site quoted a theology professor as liking to say “Salvation is a team sport; and there’s only one team”. If that’s so, what we have is the “saints” against the “imps” and, while “the good guys” may have the same Coach, the Church is broken up into about twenty-four umpires, each trying to govern the “game” by their version of the “rule book”. Where does that leave the guy attempting to reach “home”? Hopefully, with a prayer closet installed at each base with a direct line to the dugout. That is, after all, the very item Jesus purchased for us at Calvary: an IV tube capable of renewing our strength and giving us vision for the road ahead. We have that and we have each other; and if we can’t sit down and talk without anger, then maybe we don’t really possess enough of Him to be a team. Indeed, strip us of Him and we’re just another dead, dissected Kermit…………….

Three days in Pensacola with a twelve-hour drive attached to either end. A lot of money, no time for fun in the sun, and yet I wouldn’t have missed it for anything. Two decades or so ago, a young couple stopped by our church to attend a seminar. Invited to address the congregation concerning his attachment to an inner city assembly in the Big Apple, the preacher would so connect with us that he would eventually return and join our staff. His daughter, age three, having no grandparents in the vicinity, was immediately “adopted” by me and the wife. It was a relationship approved by all parties and one that would continue even after they moved to their present location about ten years down the road. Saturday, on my oldest girl’s forty-first birthday, Natalie got married………

It was a beautiful wedding, held together by the obvious love she and the groom knew for each other. These events are always planned down to the smallest detail and then become memorable as everything falls apart. Rather than the standard bridal march, she chose to have a close friend sing a special song for her entrance. We stood as directed; then waited impatiently for the doors to swing open and reveal the bride. It seems her veil had entangled in something as she arose at the last second to come and dad had to now do his best to replace it. Next nervous grandmothers took too much time to light the candles, an inadvertent sneeze awoke an infant in fear, someone’s cell phone interrupted a major portion of the ceremony, and the sound man needed another rehearsal………

Sunday evening I sat in a Winn-Dixie parking lot waiting for my pastor friend to pick up a few items. It was quite dark other than a glow coming from the windows of those stores still open, yet I watched as an older fellow pedaled his bike down that thoroughfare, steering with one hand and pulling a grocery cart full of goodies behind him with the other. “Only in Florida”, I thought, but quickly changed my mind. People are people; and it is such oddities that mark us as being human every bit as much as our ability to achieve. Picture Einstein and you immediately also pull up his energy equation. In the same instant, however, you’re also wondering who in the world his hair-stylist was, appreciating the eccentric every bit as much as the genius. It’s who we are………..

Is it the same way, do you suppose, with the Creator? Is it possible that we have the wrong image of Him? I mean: He knew beforehand exactly what would happen if He breathed life into man. It was no surprise to God that fatal day in the Garden. Nor since. So maybe it was never about being perfect, righteous reproductions of His infallibility. Maybe it has more to do with just being who we are and allowing Him to walk with us through all that encompasses. Indeed, maybe we are the spice in His “existence”, the enigma of our free will and our eccentricities bringing unto Him that same pleasure any mother and father find in their children. He remains Who He is and it isn’t so much the pre-ordained plan that makes it interesting, but the day by day mishaps that occur……….

We sat there making small talk. Friends enjoying fellowship over a hot cup of coffee and a bit of breakfast. He was speaking of some latest conquest and his need to always somehow prove himself unto others. I noted my own status as being on the other side of that coin, having long ago determined myself to be the "odd-ball" in any group of people, so why try? Indeed, to me it seems the human ego is forged from its very beginning out of both the circumstances thrust upon it and the lessons learned while walking through those circumstances. Throw in our individuality and the best that any of us can do is to take it one day at a time with the help of a good psychologist. Granted: most of us think ourselves capable of working out our own affairs. Who needs a "shrink"? And, in that vein, I wonder if, even in Christ, we aren't just as guilty of rejecting the fulness of what Calvary purchased for us and simply continue "running the show" ourselves? When I asked my friend what his salvation brought to him, he responded twice with "textbook answers". Each time, I pushed him to go deeper; for, to me, John 3:16, is a whole lot more than just words in a book.............

One of my favorite ways to open a new Sunday School class was to inquire of my "students" if they were "saved". When they replied in the affirmative, my next questions were: "How do you know? What does that mean?" Trite phrases never did it for me. Being able to recite chapter and verse to satisfy your denomination's view of it all doesn't indicate anything to me other than we've discipled another clone. When Peter tells us to sanctify the Lord God in our hearts and always be ready to explain to every man the hope that is in us, I take his admonition seriously. Not that it's possible for any of us to "solve" the Creator by breaking Him down into something akin to an algebra equation. Surely, though, the Gospel is much more than cutting and pasting together certain sections of the Bible until you've fashioned your own "golden calf". Faith is worked out in the trenches. You learn it as you go. And, as you do, you can offer the other guy no more than what you possess. The best we can do is be truthful: in our faults, in our failures, and in our fears. The Holy Ghost is our constant companion and His door is always open. Whether we show up for counselling is up to us..............