Uesdentnrd Tihs

The phaonmneal pweor of the hmuan mnid: Aoccdrnig to rscheearch at Cmabrigde Uinervtisy, it deosn't mttaer in waht oredr the ltteers in a wrod are, the olny iprmoatnt tihng is taht the frist and lsat ltteer be in the rghit pclae. The rset can be a taotl mses and you can sitll raed it wouthit a porbelm. Tihs is bcuseae the huamn mnid deos not raed ervey lteter by istlef, but the wrod as a wlohe. Amzanig huh?

Lizzy vs. The Tree

What do you get when you put a six month old cat and a Christmas tree in the same room? A Battle of Wills (cat) vs. Strength (tree).

Day 1: I assemble the Christmas tree with full and complete knowledge of the forthcoming battle. I have not been lulled into believing that this same Lizzy, who has destroyed a pair of dress pants, a bathroom towel, two glass candle holders, the cover of a book, and several pairs of socks, has magically reformed overnight. However, I will not be held in Scrooge-like, tree-less captivity to a mere cat. I seek to strengthen my position by screaming like a mad-woman every time she approaches the tree. Alas, my efforts go unrewarded, and the day ends with Lizzy dangling from the tree by a ribbon, looking down unconcernedly at a broken ornament on the floor. I scold Lizzy and she looks at me, all “Hello. Ribbon. Cat. What do you expect?” Lizzy: 1. Tree: 0.

Day 2: I come home from work to find two ornaments lying on the ground, one directly beneath the tree and one across the room. They are both intact and unharmed. Lizzy: 1. Tree: 1. Lizzy’s response to her foiled efforts at tree destruction:

Day 3: I wake up and immediately head to the living room with a bad feeling in the pit of my stomach. The night before, Lizzy had become more brazen in her attacks (having the audacity to assault the tree while I was still in the room), and I half-expect to find the entire thing on the ground. As it is, two branches have been pulled out of their sockets and a string of lights hangs limply in empty air. The tree skirt no longer performs the function for which it was intended (namely, encircling the tree), but instead huddles in the corner, a lump of maroon and gold disappointment. Lizzy: 2. Tree: 1. Lizzy’s reaction to my disapproval:

Day 4: I wake up. All is quiet and still. A peace has settled over the apartment. I go into the living room to find the tree standing tall, no ornaments on the floor, all lights in place, all branches attached. Lizzy is looking at the tree with a sort of resignation in her eyes. A tacit truce has been called, with the score tied at 2 to 2.

We’ll see how long that lasts…

Crazy Faith

I recently read the blog of Erich Vieth (http://dangerousintersection.org/?p=1734#more-1734), a non-Christian who, in his own words, “like[s] to go to church while playing the role of ‘anthropologist.’” I initially read the blog because Vieth, as an “outsider,” posted a review of my church, The Journey. While Vieth took issue with Pastor Darrin Patrick’s interpretation of Proverbs 1:7 (“The fear of the Lord is the beginning of knowledge”) and the terminology of “God’s children,” his overall impression of the Journey was fairly positive. Vieth had good things to say about the attitude of the leaders and members, saying that this was a church “not based upon fear, oppression, or bigotry.” (Vieth also took note of the above-average looks of our congregation members. Had I not been in attendance the Sunday of his visit, I would have said his observation was humorous bordering on superficial; as I was in attendance that Sunday, I think it is safe to assume he was talking about me.) Vieth went on to say that he did not believe in the truth of Bible stories, but “despite the many assertions about God, crucifixion and heaven, I am convinced that those who attend The Journey include lots of good-hearted and decent folks and I’m glad for them that they have each other and that the community receives the benefit of their good works.”

While his comments about my church were interesting, I was more intrigued by Vieth’s declaration of his own beliefs. He advocates for a church that gives up “oxymoronic beliefs” to form a co-op strictly for the purpose of community outreach: “Why assert impossible beliefs? Why claim that dead people become alive and that invisible beings concern themselves with our lives?”

Unlike Mr. Vieth, I hold tight to the “oxymoronic beliefs” of the church. Theology was practically fed to me through my baby bottle. I take Jesus’ virgin birth, crucifixion and resurrection as a matter-of-fact, rarely considering the absolute absurdity of such beliefs. I mean, who believes in a dead-man-waking or a flood that covered the entire earth? The answer is, of course, crazy people. No wonder Erich Vieth and millions like him can’t accept Christianity. It’s a religion for the insane.

When I stop to think about it, I see that the beauty of Christianity is actually in the insane. There is something awesome about a holy, all-knowing, all-powerful God desiring a relationship with me so much that He will break all the rules to make it possible. Walk on water? Sure, if it means You will trust Me. Raise the dead? In order to save you from eternal death, you better believe it! Christianity is crazy, but I wouldn’t have it any other way.

Christianity is “insane,” and it is also all too often a haven for the lazy. In the words of Mr. Vieth: “I’ve…noticed a nonchalance among most ‘believers.’ They chant fantastic beliefs in the pews, but rarely talk about these things once they are back home after church. How often have you heard a Believer exclaim, in the middle of a dinner or movie or baseball game: ‘I am just so happy that Jesus died on the Cross for me!’ If they really believed this, it would come out all the time, I believe.”

Vieth could be describing me. He is, in fact, describing the attitude I have most of the time. I am so focused on what I might lose in following Christ that I live a sort of half-life, immersed in fear of God’s requirements and missing out on the joy of complete surrender. When an “outsider” looks at me, he sees a virtual slave following a mad religion. If that’s not a turn-off to Christianity, I don’t know what is.

The first step towards correcting any problem is recognizing the existence of said problem. I have subconsciously known about the intellectual roadblocks to Christianity for a long time, but I have up until now successfully brushed them under the rug with a simple, “God is in charge.” God is in charge, but that does not excuse my culpability. What right do I have to bemoan my struggles with sacrifice and say the Christian life is too hard when so many others struggle with truth itself? I know in my soul what is true and right. I never lose sleep wondering which religion I should follow, if any. I know God died for me and saved me from myself. All I have to do is let go, and that with the power of the Holy Spirit.

I know the Holy Spirit is available to unbelievers as well as Christians (or else no one would find Christ), but it seems to me that those not raised with a conviction of the validity of the church’s claims have so many more hurdles to overcome. While I have my problems and idols and questions with God, I ultimately trust that He is there to finish the good work He started in me. When I start to feel sorry for myself, I need to remember those who have no relationship with a personal Savior, no hope that this life has a purpose or that there is a life beyond this earthly one. Obsession with my struggles is really just disguised pride. Looking beyond myself is the only way to see what’s going on in the rest of the world. Seeing the world, inserting myself into the world, testifying of Christ to the world: that is my mission. Faith in action is the only proof strong enough to convince the Erich Vieths of the world that the Bible and, subsequently God, can be trusted. That is the way God designed it to work; since He is the Supreme Being and all, I should probably take that to heart every day.