In the beginning...

Another busy week. I'm taking out a few minutes to write only because a friend left a voice message telling me how much he appreciates reading the blog. Considering how infrequently, and quickly, I post I was moved to hear he takes something from this in his own spiritual search. Enough to take out a few minutes to talk about what I'm learning in EFM.

I would love it if the OT were an inerrant, god-rich ethical masterpiece. The text doesn't support this. What it seems to be, at least what Jesus thought it was, is a collection of books which outlines, which prepares for, his personal salvation. It's a record of various individuals' experiences with God, and sometimes tells us as much about the person writing as the God the author is reaching toward. Many religious conservatives believe in both the sinful mind of man, even his utter spiritual depravity, and yet hold to an inerrant Bible. How could this be? God would have to dictate apart from the mind of the author. Or at best, somehow fill the author's mind with perfect word and images, keep him from any error whatsover. That would be great. It didn't happen.

The first 11 chapters of Genesis are ancient mythic history, with obvious Babylonian influences, adapted to the One God of Israel. That's it. It's high religious literature, no doubt, with a creation story more powerful, perhaps in its own way more true, than most, but also a God who gets angry, regrets, fails to see the future...the point is I'm begining to believe I can look through the human component towards the divine as revealed in Christ. There was no world wide flood; snakes don't speak; the earth was not made in six days; languages did not spread from the Tower of Babel (probably a narrative about an abandoned Babylonian settlement). Yet, the Creator moves behind and through these ancient myths, and as someone who has read a fair share of creation and pre-historic myth (the tiny portion which has survived into the literate era) I'm impressed with the J view of human nature (J being one of four posited sources in the Pentateuch). Did human nature fall from a state of perfection or evolve into the obviously imperfect state we currently observe?

I don't know; I wish I did. But even if we are evolved animals we are very different from the animals, more different than some seem to know. We have conscience, and we violate it; we know guilt. In an odd way the fall from eden could be about the birth of the human mind, the shift from animal to spiritual/reflective consciousness. I really can't answer any of these questions.

But so far, EFM has been helpful, blasting through 11 chapters of the bible which are widely misread as actual history (if the earth wasn't made in six days, why would God write it that way: God didn't write it that way, humans wrote it based on human sources and God invested/integrated himself into the narrative). Well, a few thousand more chapters to go.

I told my friend on the voicemail that sometimes my spiritual journey feels as though I'm swimming in a large body of water at night; I know I'm exerting myself, I half fear drowning. But as I gasp and flail, am I actually moving or am I only caught in a current or is there in fact no shore I press to?

I want to use my gifts for God. I read about Andy/Sherry's sense of guidance into Young Life (at Portrait of the Artist, link to your right) and I'm envious. My life feels so much more complex and difficult. But is that the only reason I want to use my gifts, for personal comfort? A better answer would be design. I want to do what I'm designed to do, what feels most right to my inner man; not dharma in the true Hindu sense but in the new age american sense. Purpose.

"When I run, I feel his pleasure."

Like that.

And while if I were at a Baptist church I might already be teaching (and would that be so bad?) the one thing good about my current sitch is that I get lots of time to work through these things before I might even someyear get the chance to use any public gifts. It is my hope and prayer I find the internal, mental change I need to serve God with all I have.

The person I helped move eight or so months ago is out of prison and I actually met him. He seemed like a nice person, and he sent me a winnie the pooh card expressing sincere thanks. That means more to me than a hundred pleasing literature lectures where I look bitchen cool swank smart. I hope and pray this man remains well. Perhaps I will never do anything greater for God? I hope I have the years left to discover the answer.

***

And now for something very different. Take off your shoes, friends, I have removed mine. I didn't know if I should write about this, but I alluded to it in another post. Why not? Once I share this, my possible glimpse of the palace through the fog as in Till We Have Faces, I'll have to remember it happened. Remember, I am a bitter and relentless skeptic.

I hate the Iraq war; you who read know this. Several families in my parish have been impacted. I've seen a woman, a mother, coming to church with a picture of her son in uniform on the pew beside her, in anguish for his safety. I've talked with another woman whose son has been in both persian gulf wars and has been changed.

About a year ago a family came to church with a boy (boy, really) in uniform. I didn't know any of them and I've never seen any of them since. He was going to Iraq and they were asking for prayer. The boy stood at the front of the church and the family gathered around. Then the deacon invited any others who wanted to come and pray for him to do so. S and I got up right away, not because we knew the boy but because we hate the war. I went up with others and placed my hand on someone's shoulder.

As we began praying for him I felt a warmth settle onto my shoulders. It felt like a blanket, a warm blanket, and I thought someone must be behind me, laying right over me, less than an inch from my skin, about to put his arm on me. I almost shrugged to gain personal space. But no arm landed. I kept my eyes closed, praying as normal, while I felt the warmth and weight. When I opened my eyes I realized there was no one behind me. I was at the outside of the circle. I am almost certain there was no person there at the time, though I admit I didn't whip around and stare.

I have never expected any such thing and have no reason to know why it would happen that day. I've had other, much more spiritual experiences, my own confirmation for example, or witnessing baptisms, or taking communion, or the service at advent. This was unexpected, unexplained, and unrepeated.

I don't even know who the boy was.

I would like to find out, though, if he went to Iraq, if he made it back or not, if he feels our prayer made a difference for him that day. I've never told anyone of the experience. It was quite physical.

***

Well, there. I really must go now. I don't have any explanations for the sensation. But it was quite real.

May God show me greater realities yet.