Scott Stilson

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Every miracle has an explanation that competes with the theistic one. For example, Saul’s conversion, Krista’s xenoglossy, Emma McKinley’s healing, Joshua’s dual word of introduction—they are all explicable in terms other than God. Most of the best ones (e.g., the last three above) require the use of explanatory mechanisms yet unknown to science. But some combination of things we do understand—mere coincidence, hallucination, wishful thinking, confirmation bias, misreporting, misdiagnosis, placebo, and hoax—and things we do not understand—extraterrestrials, poorly understood psychosomatic power, the possibility of telepathy—could get the job done in every case.

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Following Richard Beck’s lead, I will attempt to answer in quick, bulleted form why I pray, even if and when most prayer requests go unanswered. I pray because in prayer:

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Thinking about prayer and remembering Luke 11 and Luke 18, it seems to be Luke’s assumption that God will seem very often seem unresponsive and unjust to us in His delay in answering prayer. It’s probably the norm. We should not be surprised that most prayers appear to go unanswered. But God won’t delay forever: At most, it’ll be the wait of a single lifetime before all begins to made right in the life of the elect (AKA, all of us). Because when we’re in His arms, everything will be A-OK.

This could hold even if Jesus was mistaken about when He was coming back and that’s the quickness to which He was referring.

It certainly won’t hold if God is a fabrication. But if you read the next entry in this journal, you’ll see that most of my reasons for praying hold even if God is a fabrication.

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Everything I pray for must lead to action on my part as well.

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I want to list the commands of Jesus as recorded in the New Testament, plus the commands of the other New Testament writers.

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Father, thank You for all good things: the College Township Bikeway, a family that enjoys walks, the Rookes, the rest of church, a healthy family, enjoyable music, good food, travel plans, gratitude, and so on, and so forth.

Father, please restore Janet’s health that she may live out the remainder of her days happy and well-related to her family, friends, and neighbors. Please hear Éa’s prayer at dinner today that our neighbor might come home from the hospital.

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One could make a formula that would calculate the solidity of my conviction that God is real. The formula’s elements?

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With my current apathy toward orthodoxy and my uncertainty about the whole thing at all, I hope He is moving me toward faith-as-action. I hope this uncertainty is moving me toward action. But whither? In what fields shall I imitate Jesus? How will my imitation be different from before, when I was 100% certain of all my theology? Is He removing my certainty, or am I? Am I just making up this move to console myself as my faith withers? Or is it real?

How do I sing to Him I do not know?

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Well, I asked to see Jesus: My Peruvian friend César got evicted from the defunct Internet café where he was sleeping two days before Christmas. Then, on New Year’s Eve when he was sleeping under a bridge, he was attacked and robbed. He is without food or money, and he was prescribed and charged for some medical cream that he obviously cannot afford.

Father, grant César, Carla, Roberto, and the folks at Misión Familiar Internacional compassion and wisdom.

Actually, while we’re at it, a healing miracle or a miracle of provision—or really any direct touch from You—would be swell.

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“Housatonic” means “beyond the mountain place,” and to me it means that my source of life and faith must come directly from You, not mediated by reading others.

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You’re daring me to find You by helping others (Matthew 25:31-46).

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Why do You hide yourself from all people most of the time and most people all the time?

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I am grateful for a Father in heaven who doesn’t blink an eye when I return to attending to Him in prayer after almost completely ignoring Him over the holiday period.

I am grateful that last night just after midnight, Josh and Sarah tossed red table grapes into each other’s mouths unbidden after we had agreed that we didn’t need to do it because Carla and Josh were both feeling sick. I feel loved when people enact tradition with me—especially traditions I create. Also included: an energetic indoor snowball fight that revived us for the eleven-o’clock hour. Funny part: We turned on the radio just as the announcer was starting the ten-second countdown to midnight.

I am grateful that Ethan feels comfortable enough in his friendship with us that he walked his two daughters and Andy and Robbie all the way to our house in the cold unannounced. We enjoyed impromptu conversation, crackers, lingonberry jelly, herring, gjetost, and Ethan’s new quadcopter.

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Dude: “No I don’t go to church. I’m not wasting my time & money on some fantasy.”
Pastor: “OK. I like your Star Wars shirt.”

— “Unappreciated Pastor”

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I am grateful for the moment of clarify I had reading Romans 14 this evening: If I let Paul’s use of the word “doubt” (diakrino) in vv. 22-23 interpret James use of the same word in James 1:5-8, then it is clear that Boyd’s thesis about “doubt” not being synonymous with uncertainty is true.

Actually, reading all of Romans 14, which touches on ritually-based vegetarianism and people following their own consciences, was exciting.

I am grateful for the light resolution I made while on my evening walk tonight that I can thank God for everything good and usually thank someone else for everything, too—a resolution I put into practice by thanking Christian Carion for making Joyeux Noël, which we watched with the Rookes last night.

I am grateful for Carla, whose beauty and diligence inspire me.

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I am grateful for the Peters and the warm, fuzzy, family feeling I get when we come over for dinner—which we did tonight (eating the first of our venison in a chili Carla made) but which doesn’t happen nearly often enough these days. And it’s a funny observation where there used to be a bunch of teenage girls, now there are a bunch of teenage boys!

I am grateful for the theological flexibility I enjoy, which allows me to look at texts like Romans 13:11-14, which appear upon first reading to reinforce the idea that Paul was, like Jesus, Peter, and probably all the New Testament writers, mistaken in a belief in a literal, observable return of Jesus within his lifetime, and shrug my shoulders, saying, “Well, it could be that Paul was mistaken. And if he was, and even if Jesus was, it doesn’t change my commitment to Jesus. After all, Christianity is primarily a Way, not a Belief. Nevertheless, there are other interpretations: Perhaps Paul’s text does indeed refer to the divine judgement represented by the Jewish Wars and the destruction of Jerusalem—the context supports living a good life and honoring the authorities so as not to be caught up in the fires of judgment rained, which feasibly could have extended as far as Rome to anyone who associated themselves with the Jews, which would’ve included most Christians, I would think.”

I am grateful for being able to enjoy my own voice and share it with others who enjoy it, too. I shared “The Restroom Door Said Gentlemen” with the Peters over dinner. And Rich wrote as we corresponded about my selection for the next cabaret, “‘Friendship’ would be great! But you would still have to show off your pipes! Do you know ‘Where or When’ Rodgers and Hart?”

Bonus: I have persuaded Carla to agree to sing Cole Porter’s “Friendship” at the next FUSE Productions cabaret!

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“I do not want to merely be called a Christian, but to actually be one.”

—St. Ignatius, as quoted by Stephen Crosby

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Today I am grateful for Richard Biever, who works an awful lot under the auspices of his proprietorship FUSE Productions to bring the joys of taking in—and participating in—high-quality theatre to State College. I visited his house midday today to run through “O Holy Night” and suggest that I also sing “The Restroom Door Said Gentleman.”

I am also grateful for Carla, who continues to apply herself assiduously to making a happy Christmas for everyone in her social circle. Unfortunately, she said on our midday drive to HobbyTown USA today that she feels like she is losing God through it all.

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Maybe Paul tells us to pray without ceasing because without prayer, it’s hard to believe in God. That’s my experience, anyway.

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Don’t worry about the obvious physicality—and thus susceptibility to brain damage—of the mind, and therefore the self. God, the one who created everything from nothing, can surely un-disease those who have sustained brain damage.

I found great relief on this question as I started my evening walk by asking myself two questions:

  1. How do we humans take care of the brain-damaged among us? (We care for them and, as much as is in our power, we try to reverse the effects of the brain damage. God will do the same thing in the life to come.)
  2. Is there any kind of brain damage, disorder, impairment that we don’t think of as being just that: damage, disorder, or impairment? (No.)
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A conversation discusses Greg Boyd referencing quantum physics to build an argument, with one participant questioning if he's overreaching

I am grateful today for a son who grows in maturity and relatability. It was my honor to bring him to Panera this evening to share in a cherry pastry with him. We agreed it’d be good to learn computer programming together as father and son. I set a reminder for myself to look into the best, most child-friendly among the free starter courses that are cropping up seemingly everywhere online these days. We also played chess with a Super Mario set that Schlow Library had on hand.

I am grateful today for the evening of dress-up, make-up, dancing, and bathing together that Carla tells me she and Éa shared. I am glad they got to enjoy one another.

I am grateful for Greg Boyd, whose God at War Travis is reading at my recommendation while I re-read Satan and the Problem of Evil. Travis texted me this evening to chat briefly about how much he enjoyed Boyd’s use of quantum theory in the opening pages.

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“Where God closes His holy mouth, I will desist from inquiry.”

— John Calvin

Now there’s a thought.

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Hanging out with people is the only way to save the poor in spirit. Do I remember the two wall-to-wall days I spent with Uncle Chris? What a joy, and it touched his soul. It’s the only way—at least, the only way conceivable for me—for people like him and César to make their way out of moral and circumstantial poverty. But what am I to do? If I were a single man, I think I’d keep my job at DiamondBack and take it with me as I went on medium-term mission trips to live with César in Callao and with anyone I met who was a pariah, and I would hang out with them.

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I have spent thought and lament the past several evenings trying to understand what exactly Jesus accomplished by dying on the Cross and, more acutely, how He accomplished it. And as if prompted by my worries, one of my favorite bloggers wrote a piece called, “Why Did Jesus Have to Die?” In it he provides the most comprehensive list of understandings of the Atonement I’ve ever seen in one place before.

And none of them are striking to me as it.

Still, there’s enough there to go on, I guess. And more important, I believe Jesus is the promised Jewish Messiah and the living lord of all. And I am going to follow Him.

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Doubt baby review: