Gray Skies, Good Churches, and God Above

Today I am brimming with thoughts, though there is little organization to them. Together we will have to see where this newsletter leads, though rest assured, it has been devoted to the able hands of the Father to bless and use as He sees meet. Those who have been keeping up with my newsletters for any length of time have surely noted that there has been a lot of turbulence in my personal life. I have reached a point where many things I have taken for granted have been tested and tried, ultimately taking me more deeply into Christ dependency. Yet the Lord has been gracious to me during these lean times, never leaving me nor forsaking me.

Making every effort to have these newsletters written several days in advance, today happens to be my Sunday, though it is your Wednesday or Thursday depending on the hemisphere of the world in which you live. The weatherman called for a one hundred percent chance of snow today, predicting that we could get up to eight inches or more of accumulation. As I sit here and type, the snow is steadily falling outside my bedroom window, the gray skies nonetheless reflected blindingly by the white cascade which has already begun to alter the shapes of the cars in the parking lot outside.

In recent newsletters, I have spoken of my teeth and how years of methamphetamine use have taken their toll. Yesterday I had a tooth removed (which had broken off to a mere “nub”) and the stitches the dentist insisted on leaving behind are already beginning to itch. He also spotted an infection in some front teeth which were in the process of abscessing, so this to say, I am back on antibiotics again for the fourth time in the last several months. Fortunately, however, he caught it this time before the pain began to snuggle down and get comfortable.

I have been scrambling to keep up in college this semester, and my schedule is truthfully overly busy and overloaded. I am normally a straight A student and my grades have been on the decline, which I find disconcerting. At the factory where I have the glamorous job of carving turkey, we have been working longer hours and my joints have been aching, not to mention the sore muscles from my walk back and forth to college: this from one who has remained sedentary too long. This morning I awoke with all the stresses weighing down on me, my muscles aching, the antibiotics doing neat little things to my brain and body, so I decided I was simply going to roll back over and go to bed.

A somewhat guilty conscience as well as the realization that my friend John depends on me for a ride to church every Sunday began to disrupt my peaceful intents to go on slumbering. (John doesn’t have a phone, pager, or e-mail, by the way, so the only way to contact him is to show up in person.) I argued with myself: I need rest. I told God point blank that I had no higher purpose for my intent to stay home: I was simply tired, weary, and that was the bottom line. But I still warred with myself. I knew that I would likely regret not going to church later; I knew that it would be all together too easy to begin to settle into a habit of not going, starting with today as the precedent. I knew it was supposed to snow today as well, so I got up and looked outside the window to see if I had that excuse. Nope, it hadn’t started yet. So I went back to bed.

Finally, with ten minutes till church time, I hauled myself up and out of bed, took a quick shower, picked John up, and a bit later even than usual, we came dragging in. That was then. This is now. I was never so glad I had went. Pastor Kevin’s message was very relevant to my world and I could see reflections of what he said played out in the lives of those around me, as could John who spoke of it. (John said that if the pastor ever wondered if his illustrations translated to reality, he should take a trip to the factory were we both work and he could see some choice examples. In equally expressive if slightly different terms, John added that if the pastor ever wondered if his words were heard and heeded: “Believe me, he charbroiled me this morning with his talk of wicked wisdom,” his telling laugh suggesting that this kind of barbecue was of a healthful sort.) I marveled at Pastor Kevin’s Godly insight and wisdom: insight I too have possessed in greater abundance during times past.

Sunday school starts after the morning service at the church I attend, and we have been doing a study of the various approaches to Christian apologetics. I was very challenged by the content of the class and by the interaction of the class members, many of which are highly intelligent people with penetrating insights that probe deeply into life and the world around us. I was once again struck, as I have been so often lately, by how little I really know about anything. Driving home I was bemused by it all. Several months ago, I was writing articles that were very similar to what I heard in church today. My mind seemed a mental razor capable of slicing through the most complex issues thrown its way. Other people gained strength and encouragement from my words and many seemed a bit nonplused at how one no older than myself could have such an acute understanding of life. I took it all for granted, riding on the waves of life, so to speak, grappling with whatever was thrown my way, easily seeing through to the depths beneath. At the least, this was my perception of my life as it was then, and, if I can say so without in any way being arrogant or conceited, I think my perception is accurate.

However, these last several months have been lean times for me. Once having been fattened on the finest from the King’s table, I now often feel I subsist on table scraps. The thing I most took for granted—my mind—I now feel grateful to have “returned to me” just part of the time. My mind usually seems no sharper than anyone else’s, my insights and ideas average or mediocre at best. This can be a bitter pill to swallow for one who has previously been praised for his insight and wisdom. Sometimes I wonder if my mind wasn’t permanently affected by all the drugs in my past. There is so, so much I do not know and I feel grateful just to gain a glimpse through the eyes of my many mentors. This period has taught me like none other to be dependent on Christ and to daily recognize my need for Him, even for my mental capabilities, which can be taken away in an instant. I really am no different than anyone else, I am just more fortunate: privileged I have a Father in heaven who takes such good care of me.

Take church, for example. When I moved to Springfield about three months ago, I did not know one church from another. I really didn’t care what the sign over the church door said, I knew that I needed to find some place to keep me grounded, because I know myself and I know how easily I fall away. I was daunted by the prospect of church shopping, intimidated by the huge selection presented me in the phone book. What if they don’t accept me because of my long hair? What if they want me to dress to the nines? (I don’t own any suits.) What if they call me up front and embarrass me, expecting me to fall down and wiggle on the floor or something? A thousand other such silly thoughts and insecurities plagued me, any supposed intellectualism or sophistication on my part flying out the window. I prayed fervently to find a church: no, not just a church, but the church that God would have me to attend. I didn’t want to shop, I simply wanted to settle. Of the long list, only one stood out to me, and interestingly enough, it was not a very long drive from my modest apartment.

Ever since I walked through the doors that first Sunday, I have never failed to be impressed that Someone much larger than myself is controlling my destiny, is arranging my humble existence in a “little city” in the Southwest to intersect and coincide with a plan so much larger than myself. During my recent “bout of doubts,” ironically this church has been its own existential proof of God’s existence. My simple thought goes like this: if there were no God, what are the chances I would end up in a church like this? (Almost seems to beg the question, doesn’t it? But not really.) Maybe I can’t paint the picture for you, but I will try.

This church, while not perfect, is unlike many of the churches I have attended in the past. It answers to the issues I face in my life as a Christian, fighting for his life and worldview in an often intimidating and hostile culture. This church prizes the intellect as another of God’s gifts, without turning it into an idol. It encourages one to learn to ask the right questions, unlike so many that expect me to believe without thought, question, or consideration. Its leaders all seem to be tapped into this idea that Christianity is so much larger than any one single unit, yet conversely needs to answer to the immediate needs of those around it. (This to say its vision is global, yet its focus is personal.) It sees, as a part of its mission, not just the saving of souls, but also the equipping of the saints to grow and to become more effective agents of change in the world around: to become beacons of grace and light that season and salt, challenging others to a higher way of living rather than berating them for their lack of charity, effort, or belief. It is not a perfect church, for there is no such thing here on this earth. Yet when I leave each week, I am struck by the realization that there must indeed be a God, and that if this church represents what God is like, then I want to be a part. Does my talk of God in this way confound you? It is not that I do not believe—I do, and very strongly—only that I sometimes doubt. Does this make sense to you? My relatively infrequent doubts are interspersed throughout my longstanding belief, not the other way around.

I know it may sound cynical on my part to feel that a church of this nature is so unique, but I guess somewhere along the way I gave up the idea that church could be a place where we could come together and be challenged and blessed by one another. I have been around church all my life, but I believe for the first time I am beginning to get some idea of what it means to be involved in a community of fellow believers who challenge you, who come along beside you, and who lift you up, edifying you while helping to gently correct your false and inconsistent beliefs. No, this church seems to have everything to do with true Biblical Christianity and I must say I find it strangely winsome and attractive. The early church described in the book of Acts must have been quite a sight to behold. I never really thought church could be a place where I could be so profoundly challenged, where I could have my intellect as deeply engaged as every other part of my person. Yes, Eric, it would seem you have much to learn in this old world. There really are a few good churches left; the bible promises that when one prays according to the will of the Father, one will always receive that for which one prays, and often extra blessings beside.

The one thing this church has helped me do is regain my own sense of vision. I leave every Sunday challenged to draw closer to God. I feel hungry to pray, to surrender my petty life to God and to ask Him to bless and honor it, to throw wide the doors and ask Him to sweep out the rubbish and settle within. Somehow, it seems to me no surprise that lately my mailing list has been going out the roof. The only way we can truly be a blessing to others is when we ourselves have been blessed. The church I attend does exactly what any church ought to do: it equips me to go out and share the blessing I have received, thereby being a blessing to others in return. Of course, among the places I have an opportunity to do this is within this very newsletter. No, it is not my church itself that is really my subject today; rather, it is the reality to which my church points.

The one area where a Christian wages the bulk of his or her battles is within the mind. We all have carnal thoughts and attitudes that linger, we all have distortions in our thinking that need to be ironed out, blind spots that affect our ability to see clearly, causing us to trip, stumble, and fall. That is the beauty of the Christian message: it speaks to the mind as well as the heart, yet transcends them both. The Pauline epistle to the church at Corinth illustrates this well, which I am quoting here out of the 1890 Darby Bible because of its slightly different take, highlighted in a moment. Paul is writing to the Corinthian believers:

In essence, we read here that Paul is saying that these believers might not think he speaks with much boldness in person, but that he communicates his message with an authority from out of this world: an authority given him by God, transcending even the most imposing military commander’s power. From here, he goes on to say that as believers, we do not operate on the same system of governance that characterize the strength of military conquests, but instead we are engaged in a spiritual war that battles for our minds. The logic is quite simple here: Control the mind—the “command tower” of the body—and you control the whole person; divide the mind and you have effectively divided to conquer. In this war, we take on the weapons of the realm of the Spirit, and, according to Darby, we lead every wayward thought captive into obedience to the higher ways of God. (Most translations merely say that we take captive such thoughts, I like Darby’s idea that we lead captive these thoughts, which suggests not only a capture, but a change of direction as well.) This is the same idea expressed in Romans 12:2, the passage the much respected apologist Dr. R.C. Sproul takes for the title of his “Renewing Your Mind” radio program: “And be not conformed to this world: but be ye transformed by the renewing of your mind, that ye may prove what is that good, and acceptable, and perfect, will of God”?

As you can clearly see from these passages, the mind is a very important element. It is, if you will, the first line of defense, for it is through the mind all higher processing takes place: all external ideas must seek admittance at its threshold. Once allowed in, consequences will always ensue: some for ill and some for good, depending on the diet the mind is fed. Regardless, the mental machinery drives all other systems, whether the steady unconscious commands that regulate the heart or the conscious execution of the will to stretch one’s aching joints or the choosing of the next several words in this very newsletter. If we are not allowed to ask questions and to think carefully and consistently about what we believe, we will not be equipped to deal with the challenges and struggles we face in a world that doesn’t always happen to see things exactly like we do. Yet we need to cultivate the ability to ask the right questions, for not all questions presuppose the proper perspective: presuppositions are an inevitable part of any pursuit. We all start with basic presuppositions, no matter what we believe or whose cause we support. The question should perhaps begin with which set of presuppositions we support: What are our underlying beliefs and values anchored to and supported by? How do we “get at” truth?

We should also recognize that just as the mind controls the body, so too does God control the world. He is not limited in His ways or His resources and can use some of the most unlikely avenues to speak to people: simply put, He can and often does use all things to woo people unto Himself. Do you know what occasioned my thinking deeply about the above passage in 2 Corinthians? If you have read the autobiography, you know that in my high school days I was an avid fan of heavy metal music. I really didn’t care too much about the words, it was the rhythm that drove me onward, acting like a sort of drug that numbed me to the angst of adolescence and supplied me with energy when I was feeling low. I was not only an avid fan of this music, but had managed to amass nearly a thousand cassettes of this genre through relentless campaigning, signing people up into the music clubs by the droves.

A few Christian metal bands (so-called “Heavenly Metal”) managed to sneak through, particularly the very heaviest and fastest of these. I cared not that the message was Christian: the words were not of any real concern to me. Among these, Deliverance, a self-described “Christian speed metal” band prefaced one of their songs (I do not remember which one) with a theatrical reading of the above passage from 2 Corinthians. Do you know how many times I listened to this song, how deeply I engraved these particular verses in my mind thanks to this band’s ministry? For years I carried this verse and others around, sitting dormant in the back of my mind, ingrained there from the thousands of times I listened to these albums at decibels I couldn’t help but hear with deafening clarity. Years later, God called these verses to my attention: caused these seeds strewn by some very unlikely missionaries—grown men with long hair and loud guitars—to take root, blossom, and grow. Perhaps this brand of missionary has never spoken your language, but they were certainly well-adept and fluent in mine.

But there is a reason why these missionaries’ words reached so effectively into the drug-saturated world I inhabited. That reason is found in the following passage, specifically the part where God is speaking, saying that His word “shall not return unto me void, but shall accomplish that which I please, and it shall prosper in the thing whereto I sent it.” I am quoting more than is necessary to articulate this particular point, for I find this a very beautiful passage:

While it is true that in this passage Yahweh (“the LORD”) is specifically speaking to the children of Israel, He is the same God that is the same yesterday, today, and forever. He is the same God whose thoughts are higher than our thoughts, whose ways are higher than our ways. He is still the same God who is interested in shaping our thoughts, just as He shaped our flesh and bones of clay. It is for His namesake that the trees of the field clap their hands and the mountains and the hills sing for joy. He is LORD over all, Creator of heaven and earth, willing that none should perish but that all should come unto repentance. These promises are no less the promises He offers to all of His children who are called by His name and sanctified by His grace.

I have been down a rough road recently, my faith weighed in the balance and found wanting. Yet, as the old hymn goes: “I know Whom I have believed, / and am persuaded that He is able, / to keep that which I’ve committed / unto Him against that day.” I feel a little exhausted today: a little tired. Yet I’ve come back home: back to the arms of my loving Father. I don’t have all the answers and I probably never will, but I trust and believe that He does and that He cares for me. I often chase answers to questions that don’t really even matter, for there is no peace to be found there. There is only one place to find peace for the weary soul: His name is Jesus.

Archive note: See also the discussion forum thread When is a Church not a Church? regarding this newsletter.

In many ways, I find that, “the more things change, the more they stay the same,” as the old cliché suggests. Life has a funny way of sweeping us up in a whirlwind and carrying us on an extended journey, only to dump us back off where we started, with one major difference: our perspective is different, changed somehow. Indeed, it would seem in my own life I have come full circle, back to the point I was before. Yet no matter how often I return here, I am never the same. To build on what was said last week about “What we learn today must often be torn down tomorrow—the mountain height that looms before us today, tomorrow becomes the path trodden under our feet,” when what we learn today is torn down and rebuilt, it is always stronger, reinforced from more experience, more layers of meaning and wisdom. Maybe there was something to that famous dictum, after all, uttered by Heraclitus, the Greek sophist: “You can never step into the same river twice,” life being the river he had in mind. It would seem that no matter how often we step into the same slice of life, no matter how often we return to this point, it is never quite the same water, nor, for that matter, quite the same foot. It is always, however, the same God—now and forevermore. Herein lies a world of difference, you see: it is the difference between time and eternity.

“Then Paul stood in the midst of Mars’ hill, and said, Ye men of Athens, I perceive that in all things ye are too superstitious. For as I passed by, and beheld your devotions, I found an altar with this inscription, TO THE UNKNOWN GOD. Whom therefore ye ignorantly worship, Him declare I unto you. God that made the world and all things therein, seeing that He is Lord of heaven and earth, dwelleth not in temples made with hands; Neither is worshipped with men’s hands, as though He needed any thing, seeing He giveth to all life, and breath, and all things; And hath made of one blood all nations of men for to dwell on all the face of the earth, and hath determined the times before appointed, and the bounds of their habitation; That they should seek the Lord, if haply they might feel after Him, and find Him, though He be not far from every one of us: For in Him we live, and move, and have our being; as certain also of your own poets have said, For we are also His offspring. Forasmuch then as we are the offspring of God, we ought not to think that the Godhead is like unto gold, or silver, or stone, graven by art and man’s device. And the times of this ignorance God winked at; but now commandeth all men every where to repent: Because He hath appointed a day, in the which He will judge the world in righteousness by that man whom He hath ordained [Christ]; whereof He hath given assurance unto all men, in that He hath raised Him from the dead.”

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