Love Not Fear

General Assembly moderator Bruce Reyes-Chow asked for answers to the question: "Why am I Presbyterian?" either via Twitter, Facebook, or blog. We talked about this in Sunday school last week, but we never got to my answer. That's fine, but here's my answer anyway. I think you'll find we're all very similar. I think there's a theologically "right" answer: God called (and calls) me to be Presbyterian. We Presbyterians believe that all aspects of our faith are responses to the grace of God in Christ. But while the answer may be "right," I think it's misleading because there's a lot more to it. God didn't move me into the PC(USA) like a puppet on a string. What really happened to me is a much better story: I've always felt like I was on the outside, my whole life. I guess especially as a teenager. I remember going to dances where I didn't like the music, didn't like the dances they were doing, and couldn't find ...

I just saw that someone named "Lindsay" left a comment on my earlier post "Love Not Fear". Since that post is well and truly buried in the past, and since I thought Lindsay's words were so wonderful, I've decided to post them here. Lindsay said... This is a message for everyone. I am a stranger you, but not because I am, as all are, given free will with which I can choose to act through love and not through fear. Many people ask, why should we not be afraid when god does not protect us from trouble, where I say, god does so but through us. When we act through love, happiness follows. When we have feelings that can be described as love, that is god talking to us. We need only to listen. And here's my reply: Thank you, Lindsay. As you said, you and I are strangers, but I'm sure your friends are blessed to know you. I don't know why God doesn't make things easier on us. That's just one in a long list of things I don't...

This is a neat book. There are lots of reasons why I should have disliked it, but I truly enjoyed it, found myself thinking about it between readings. At first glance, it's the kind of book my mother would have gotten me for Christmas or something: a religious allegory of sorts with a very heavy Christian hand. It's immensely popular, even though it's written by an author few had heard of and published by a tiny press. In fact, I bought it for Mom shortly before she died. Don't stop at the first glance. The story takes you to a very dark place, and it treats the darkness and pain of it with respect. It also treats the reader with respect. The author has taken much care to neither overlook nor over-indulge in the horror of it. In essence, the story follows a man named Mack whose family undergoes a terrible tragedy, plunging him into what he calls The Great Sadness . It is in this despair that he receives a note inviting him to visit the very abandoned shack that formed t...

When a distinguished but elderly scientist states that something is possible, he is almost certainly right. When he states that something is impossible, he is very probably wrong. -A. C. Clarke's First Law I can't tell you how many times I've seen the impossible happen. I don't even think I can count the number of times I've helped make the impossible happen. People have a far too limiting view on what's possible. I think it all comes down to bad theology. There's this belief these days that God is stingy, even miserly. There's just not enough to go around, we hear. When the stock market sinks, or church donations falter, or whatever, we go around wringing our hands, looking at the red ink. God's holding out on us again. This confusion of the Lord of Hosts with Ebenezer Scrooge (before Christmas morning) shows up in so many more ways: God doles out blessings only on the most deserving, they say. God reserves heaven only for those who've jumped ...

My mother died just before Thanksgiving. My current Northminster family already knew that, of course. Here is the eulogy I delivered at the funeral: So we used to go to the zoo every year, the day before Thanksgiving. Mom, the kids and me. She used to fuss about if it was too cold, if anyone was going to catch the double, triple, or quadruple pneumonia. She used to worry that it would rain. But we always always always looked forward to it, because Mama was so much fun. One year, we got to the front of the Louisiana Swamp exhibit, and the kids wanted to see the alligator. Mama most certainly did not want to see any alligator. She said she'd wait for us at the entrance to the exhibit. Well, we took a little longer than she thought we should. When we got back to where we'd left her, she wasn't there. We started looking for her, keeping in mind that she was probably looking for us. Finally, my daughter and Mama saw each other: Mama was in the Zoo Train. She'd gotten all the...