“Now you together are the Messiah’s body” (1 Corinthians 12:27, KNT). In other words, I extrapolate, we are how Jesus acts on this earth.

Matt Poehner has the following quotation on his Facebook profile:

Live a good life. If there are gods and they are just, then they will not care how devout you have been, but will welcome you based on the virtues you have lived by. If there are gods, but unjust, then you should not want to worship them. If there are no gods, then you will be gone, but will have lived a noble life that…will live on in the memories of your loved ones. I am not afraid.

— Marcus Aurelius

I can get behind that.

If, in my old age, you asked me to tell you one thing about my life as it was today, I predict I’d tell you it was the day I metaphorically threw my hands up in the air about whether I have a principled reason for supporting Friends & Farmers Food Co-op: I don’t. I support the co-op because I enjoy hanging out with those kinds of people at the kinds of functions they hold.

I could go into my reasons for suspecting that “buy local” is a slogan with slippery ethical foundations (hint: for a start, it smacks of egogeocentrism), but I think I’ll leave it at this: I buy local for the pleasure of it. That’s all. It is a luxury. It makes my community a smilier, more human place.

Completism is not a fruit of the spirit.

Personifying the highest good is very motivating, even if it’s false (which I don’t think it is, but it might be).

“Suffering is the stripping of our hope in finite things, therefore we do not put our ultimate hope in anything finite.”

— Tim Keller

“Rest is an act of defiance.”

— Walter Brueggemann

[Psalm 16](Psalm 16) stands as a gleaming promise. And it has this line: “I said to the Lord, ‘You are my Lord; I have no good besides You.’” That’s the attitude I want to have.

In the middle of a game of toss during our after-church socializing today in the sunroom, Sullivan sent a Nerf football upon onto the valance, knocking the 3.2-lb. porthole Carla got from her dad down and onto my head, edge first. It opened a quarter-inch-wide gash in the crown of my head. It hurt like you’d expect such a wound to hurt, and I walked out of the room for some privacy, but Carla and the Rookes stopped me because I was bleeding profusely.

Long story short, Matt took me to the hospital and chatted happily with me while we waited for the parade of health professionals to come through my ER room. A medical student named Alex was the one to put the six staples in. He put in at least one too many because of what he claimed was some inaccuracy in the stapler.

It felt good to be the center of attention. But more precisely, it felt good to be personally helped in a time of need. Over the course of the episode, Carla put my socks on and cleaned my bloody head in the shower after I returned from the hospital, Lara fetched towels for the blood, Sullivan gave me a hug, Janet examined my head to make the professional recommendation that I visit the ER, the medical professionals took good care of me, and Matt was a friend. He wished me “blessings” as we parted ways three hours after the incident, and I replied, “I have one! It’s you!”

If I’m ever in need of care and in pain that goes beyond a ‘2’ on the pain chart, I hope I’m a kind sick person to the people caring for me.

Then Jesus said to His disciples, “If anyone wishes to come after Me, he must deny himself, and take up his cross and follow Me. For whoever wishes to save his life will lose it; but whoever loses his life for My sake will find it. For what will it profit a man if he gains the whole world and forfeits his soul? Or what will a man give in exchange for his soul? For the Son of Man is going to come in the glory of His Father with His angels, and will then repay every man according to his deeds” (Matthew 16:24-27).

I am challenged by these words of Jesus this morning. In what ways am I trying to save my life? In what ways am I losing it for Jesus’ sake?

“You want it all, but you can’t have it.”

— Plato, as tweeted by Mike McHargue. Methinks it apocryphal and more likely a pop lyric. Nevertheless, I like it. Maybe he is summarizing Plato with a lyric.

This McHargue correspondence strengthens my hope that this wound of doubt I suffered last month is not for nothing. I’ve already written that you could summarize the intellectual effect of the doubt in one sentence, “I could be wrong.” And I feel peace and resolution when I say that. And perhaps that will open me up in all sorts of good, godly ways that I can’t anticipate.

Norman is going to try to schedule my private audition with Rich Biever for the part of Valjean for two weeks from today.

If this goes well—and really, for the quality of the audition itself—may I remember my words from a year ago:

It’s good to sing for my own enjoyment (or Yours, God), and it’s good to sing to delight someone else. But it’s unhealthy to sing to elicit praise.

Father, as I get deeper into singing performance in State College, please protect me from the intoxicating effects of people’s praise.

Listen. Act. Share.

In light of the bean burning incident, action! In light of last month’s crippling doubt, action! Let my love for Carla no longer comprise talking; let it rather comprise doing. Let my Christian faith no longer comprise reading, thinking, and praying; let it rather be listening, acting, and sharing! But especially acting.

I just told Carla: “I evaluate what you’re thinking too quickly. I’m sorry.” She admitted doing the same to me. O Lord, that we be quick to listen and slow to speak.

me:

I wanted to write briefly to update you: I have set my face to follow Jesus. But I have to tell you, the uncertainty about Him still undercuts my overall confidence and my prayer life. How do I talk with a still-invisible God of whom I’m unsure? The problem of evil makes me less likely to praise Him, the problem of divine hiddenness makes me less likely to thank Him, and the problem of unanswered prayer makes me less likely to ask of Him.

Moving through life with a foundation I’m unsure of is a novel experience for me. Whatever the benefits of the doubt—and I do intend to read that book—I think I was happier without it.

Why I’m unsure about Him after hearing miracle claims from close friends is a mystery to me. I do know doubt is very social, so I’m going to do what I can to avoid reading material from the dark side. And I have a lot of reading and video-watching to do to shore up my faith. One of the few things I’ve gotten to already is the McHargue article series you sent. I appreciated it, although I still don’t know how he goes about discussing faith and God with his kids.

Thank you again for your support through this.

Love and admiration, Scott

P.S. Also, compared to me (and speaking very myopically), McHargue has a one-up on me that I envy: “I once heard Jesus whisper in my ear. A few hours later, I met God on the beach in one of the most powerful experiences of my life. I understand that this sounds ridiculous to modern ears, but I’m relaying my own experience here. I heard a voice, and then I had a time where I felt like I connected with something beyond physical space and time.” I cannot remember a similar experience in my own life. I’m jealous. I hold out hope for such an experience. Nevertheless, McHargue does lay out a nice place to be that harmonizes it all. He doesn’t answer the Questions, but he still invites me to a nice mindspace.

friend:

Thanks for the update! I was actually just about to write to ask.

So, your status has me thinking of the story of Jacob wrestling the angel, again. After all, he walked with limp the rest of his days. Did he regret his grappling with that shadowy figure? Did he miss the days of “wholeness” before, the unquestioning pursuit of his loves and desires? Or was it a reminder that gave him sustenance and holy pause through the turbulent days ahead? I don’t have a clue—but I suspect that he was buoyed by the fact that he heard from God in the midst of his aching, sleepless night.

And so I hear and agree with your desire to hear Christ “whisper”—and to know that it was Him.

That’s my prayer for both of us, today.

P.S. I hear you regarding doubt being a social thing, though I suspect the opposite is also true—what to do with this? Navigate the waters with humility and grace, I conclude.)I never want to fall in love with my own questions, my own hipster self-awareness. I’m remembered of an old Sixpence song [link lost]—perhaps you know it?

me:

Yes, if this struggle leads to a theophany, it’ll have been worth it. So AMEN. Heck, I’d take a miracle, or even a God-stamped “time where I felt like I connected with something beyond physical space and time.”

And yes, in my own heart, at least, faith is a social as doubt. I wonder how the social allure of faith feels to an atheist. Is it as anxious as that of doubt to a believer?

I agree wholeheartedly about the Questions. I don’t like Questions as part of my identity. I prefer the fruits of the spirit. And in the face of my questions:

• Want a theodicy? Screw that; who knows? The point is: Evil is. So join God in fighting it and sympathizing with and relieving its victims.
• Worried that God is hidden? Live in such a way that you reveal Him.
• God may not answer most prayers in ways that are discernible, let alone miraculous. But that doesn’t mean He doesn’t answer some, even sometimes miraculously. And it doesn’t mean there aren’t other salubrious effects of praying. So pray anyway.Reflecting yesterday on how to raise my kids toward Jesus, and coupled with some knee-jerk thoughts when faced with criticisms of the Lewis trilemma—“Wait, what? People find problems with the Lewis trilemma? I thought that was open-and-shut! Man, this apologetics stuff is doomed”—it occurs to me that so much religious doubt and anxiety might be preempted if we acknowledged up front to our kids, similar to what McHargue advocates, that:
• We might be wrong about our religious beliefs. But it’s still OK to hold them, and to do so very passionately, provided they aren’t motivation for hatred or violence. In fact, for many people, such beliefs are more than OK: they are joyful and vital.
• Other people have looked at virtually the same evidence to the deity of Jesus and come to very different conclusions, often rationally, and sometimes motivated by love, or at least Polonian honesty. While this might challenge our soteriology or our Christology, it doesn’t have to assail our faith in God or even in Jesus. We might be wrong! Whoa. Acknowledging that might be the biggest change in me through all this so far.

/S

How do good things in the ekklesia end up going bad? Often the road to corruption is paved with stones of well-intended pragmatism. Virtue is not always practical, nor profitable. Love is not pragmatic. There is no love column on a profit-loss statement or a balance sheet. Love cannot be analyzed. Love can be entered in to. Doing what is right does not always have an immediate practical outcome of benefit. When a spirit of pragmatism enters a community (especially regarding money) little incremental steps are taken choosing the practical and the profitable over the virtuous and honorable. Those little bricks of making pragmatism our God, pave the highway to corruption. Pragmatism wants to assure that a course of action turns out well for me/mine and ours. Love wants to make sure it turns out well for others, even if it costs me/us.

—Stephen Crosby

Briefly reflecting on Luke Muehlhauser, the “Common Sense Atheist,” and his dedication to preparing for the “intelligence explosion” he fears, it occurs to me that it might be best if I focused my charitable efforts like he does. Now, I won’t be concentrating on defending against the singularity, but I could stand to narrow things down. Currently, it’s Water.org, Young Life, the Pregnancy Resource Clinic, Food for the Hungry, the State College Food Bank, and Clearwater Conservancy we donate to. I like all those organizations. But if I want to make a difference, perhaps I need to get behind one in particular.

But where I want to make a difference is interpersonally. If I’m going to change the world, I want to change it through friendship. The problems I’m solving? Well, I imagine many might be solved this way, at least for the people I’m interpersonal-ing. But first among them is loneliness.

Reflecting on my knee-jerk thoughts when faced with criticisms of the Lewis trilemma—“Wait, what? People find problems with the Lewis trilemma? I thought that was open-and-shut! Man, this apologetics stuff is doomed.”—it occurs to me that so much religious doubt and anxiety might be preempted if we acknowledged up front that:

• We might be wrong about our religious beliefs. But it’s still OK to hold them, and to do so very passionately, provided they aren’t motivation for hatred or violence. In fact, for many people, it’s more than OK: it’s joyful and vital.
• Other people have looked at virtually the same evidence to the deity of Jesus and come to very different conclusions, often rationally, and sometimes motivated by love, or at least Polonian honesty. While this might challenge our soteriology or our Christology, it doesn’t have to assail our faith in God or even in Jesus.

Éa is a likable sick person. And Carla is an excellent nurse.

If I’m not careful, I’m going to petrify a habit of mine that has developed in the past few weeks and become such a temptation as to displace the role seeking online infotainment or titillation has at times played in my life: reading theological articles on the Internet during the workday. If I allow this habit to solidify, it will have two detrimental effects: I will lose my job, and I will lose my faith.

“For in Christ Jesus neither circumcision nor uncircumcision means anything, but faith working through love” (Galatians 5:6). That’s the only faith worth having. And it’s the only faith I can have through some of this terrifically doubtful season. Specific religious practice is questionable. Faith expressed in love is not.

Curiously, my not getting everything done today that I wanted to get done as I stood up to leave to go to the Potters’ house for dinner and trick-or-treating elicited feelings of anxiety and disappointment. In addition, and somewhat laughably, it led to doubt of God’s existence. What a silly thing to hang it on.

I woke up this morning with Raffi’s “All I Really Need” in my head. According to Mr. Cavoukian, here’s the list:

• a song in my heart
• food in my belly
• love in my family
• the rain to fall
• the sun to shine
• some clean water for drinking
• clean air for breathing

Many fewer people than do, myself included, have reason to complain or doubt whether God is good.

My suspicion is that God put the song in my head overnight. A nice little gift.

“Your brain cannot do fear and gratitude simultaneously. If you’re in fear… go to a state of gratefulness” (Sue Krautkramer).