Jonathots Daily Blog
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My doubt has a gooey center and my faith is a bit crusty.
There are times I feel more like a sympathizer than a believer.
All the Bible-reading and ministerial chats still leave a festering in my curious soul.
For you see, I have been all alone in the wilderness or driving a car late at night when an inspirational silliness caused me to speak to the quiet stillness, “God, are you there? Do you have a word for me?”
It happened again this morning.
My friends left to get groceries and I was all alone in the house. The street was quiet and there were no whistles and buzzes coming from my Internet connection.
A chill went down my spine. I felt so close to something.
So I spoke again. “God, are you there?”
There was no answer—just as there wasn’t in the forest primeval or my motor vehicle.
Immediately, I felt foolish and cheated. Both emotions vied for the authority over my heart.
Suddenly there was this tiny notion that became an idea and evolved into a full-fledged sensation.
“Does my faith have to come from God?”
Are you telling me that if there were no God, we couldn’t figure out, “Love your neighbor?” After all, it lessens the murder rate.
Do we require tablets of stone? What is the purpose of that high mountain?
Could I discover the truth of this planet, and eventually the universe, without a Sunday School teacher? Or is it necessary for me to suffer rebuke, endure reading boring holy passages or shiver at the threat of eternal damnation?
Or is it just obvious that you should leave your neighbor’s wife alone?
Do we really need a commandment to inform us not to kill, to be generous or help the helpless?
Is it really profitable to be scared witless in an attempt to understand the mind of God?
Doesn’t “created in His image” come with an accompanying conscience?
Here is the entire essence of belief:
You can’t do your own thing if your thing messes up someone else’s thing.
Killing sucks.
Selfish leaves you alone.
Oh, and by the way, the Creator loves you enough not to speak. Because if He spoke to one, every human would want a private audience. Then we would start counting words. How many did he speak to Edith? More than Harry? Was his tone sweeter with Joe than with Donald?
Great people don’t need to talk. Great people do.
And if you’re talking about the greatest Being in the universe, speaking could be an immense disadvantage.
***
A friend of mine sat in a garden, pleading for his life. The answer came when the authorities arrived, arrested him, put him on trial and executed him.
How lonely he must have felt during his death.
How forsaken.
He was buried because he was confirmed dead.
But thirty-six hours later, he rose from that body and stepped out of his own grave.
It was an uncomfortable delay, but still … impressive.
Jonathots Daily Blog 