I’m grateful to my colleagues and employers at DiamondBack, who made my Friday vacation day possible, and to Carla’s mom, whose presence made other social obligations unnecessary, for a weekend full of rest, reading, remaining at home.

Capsule Review of Mike Licona’s Book

In this painstaking work of historiography, Licona asserts that over five recent, competing, largely sociopsychological accounts, the Resurrection Hypothesis is the strongest explanation for the following three bits of historical data, which are near-unanimously admitted by historians:

• that Jesus died by crucifixion,
• that His disciples had experiences that led them to believe and proclaim that Jesus had been resurrected and had appeared to them, and
• that within a few years of Jesus' death, Paul converted after experiencing what he interpreted as a post-resurrection appearance of Jesus to him.

I find Licona’s work here persuasive enough. To me, it would be only presuppositions against theism, perhaps reached via reflection on some of the philosophical problems posed by theism—some of which I admit I sometimes find tempting or threatening—that would lead someone to conclude differently.

I put my primary practical problem with my Christian faith—and a real threat to its continuance—to Carla this way as she got my back in bed this evening: I attempt to interact with God interpersonally almost every day. He seems to barely make a reciprocal effort ever.

“If I had to distill it to one issue, I would say it’s that the visible church seems to care more about ideas than people.”

— Derek Webb, in reply to “Is there one thing you see as the biggest issue/blind spot for the church, an area where Christianity is failing to live up to its promise and purpose?” on Rachel Held Evans’ blog

In context, Webb is talking about Christians letting disagreement trump relationships. In true reader-reception form, his offering is broader and more convicting: I care more about having the right ideas than I do about actively loving people. Christianity is less about about having good theology and more about acting like Christ.

Here is what I should have said: “Sullivan, everyone dies. But the writers of the Bible tell us that Jesus promises eternal life to, at least, all those who cling to Him (see John 3:16, John 11:25, 1 John 2:25, Titus 1:2, 1 Peter 1:3-6, etc., etc.). I’ve never seen heaven. But I believe it. Mommy believes it. Billions of people believe it. Some people have even had near-death experiences in which they almost die but somehow doctors revive them; during the time in between, they see something like heaven.

So don’t worry: God loves you so much that He won’t let death be the end of you. You will go to heaven.

Jesus hung out with rejects on purpose.

I resolve: On Sundays and holidays, I will rest from my agenda-fulfillment and I will not look at screens proactively.

That porthole has taken on new meaning: Friends. It gratifies me to no end to contemplate how faithful my friends were to me. How when I needed them (Carla, Sullivan, Janet, the Rookes), they were there. My physical suffering, like my doubt-borne anguish last month, becomes a reason for thanksgiving: I have friends who love me.

A call-and-response greeting for Thanksgiving that came out of a brief SMS exchange with Daniel Perea today in which he expressed confusion about what greeting to give on Thanksgiving: “Give thanks to the Lord / for He is good / and His love endures forever.”

What does it mean to ‘draw near’ or ‘approach’ God like James says?

“Happy Thanksgiving! Let’s hear it for a people (Wampanoag Indians) who embraced a few undocumented immigrants (Pilgrims) over a meal!”

—Evan Wickham

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

— Tim Keller

Faith is trust manifested in action.

“Rest is an act of defiance.”

— Walter Brueggemann

I will dedicate more temporal resources toward getting Nextdoor off the ground. It is being well-received so far, although no one has really used it.

[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...

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?

“The world is passing away along with its desires, but whoever does the will of God abides forever” (1 John 2:17).

I delight in assertions that eternal life is a real thing.

I’ll note three things today:

1. Carla got a conclusive answer about her allergies today from the allergist: She is allergic to dust mites. Hearing this relieved and excited me, because we finally now have a definite problem with definite solutions. I am eager to help her feel better.
2. Carla reminded me this evening that I can set boundaries and say no to the kids. I was expressing consternation that it was so difficult to concentrate on something I wanted to accomplish, like (this evening) finding a way to sing those B♭s in “Valjean’s Soliloquy,” while in the presence of the kids because they—especially Sullivan—would interrupt with chatter or questions or requests. She made it very simple and was in fact surprised that I was not setting boundaries. Thanks, Carla.
3. Reading about Jairus’ daughter this evening in The Jesus Storybook Bible found me asking inwardly, “Is this stuff going to hold up for her against 21st-century naturalistic bias? It seems like it’s ripe for scoffing and skepticism. Actually, I almost feel silly believing that this stuff actually happened. Is Jesus necessary?” Father, may it hold.

“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.

“Because of the devastation of the afflicted, because of the groaning of the needy, now I will arise,” says the Lord; “I will set him in the safety for which he longs” (Psalm 12.5). Father, this is my prayer of You in my life and for the world.

Today I think I finally embraced the idea that Carla should go to as many Council-related meetings as she wishes.

Father, if my friends are keepers of their word, then Matt, Dan, Kris, Marshall, Bruce, Sam, Scorz, Josh, Ethan, and Krista, and my mom are all praying for me, most of them for me to experience some kind an undeniable, metaphysical encounter with You.

If You refuse their requests, I shall throw my hands up in the air and that I will never understand You. I will also likely always have a skeptic monkey swinging through the trees in the back of my mind.

That’s not to say I wouldn’t continue to follow You and give credence to the claims that You are, that Jesus is Your son, that You are love, et cetera. Just that I have little idea why You wouldn’t answer a request like that.

Of course, remembering the examples of both Ethan and Kristen requires that I be patient.

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.