As readers of this blog might surmise, I have a (sometimes) regular discipline of reading the daily lectionary passages. In fact, this blog is an outgrowth of private reflections on those readings. It started as journaling meant to encourage me in the regular reading of Scripture. Even in this more public forum, my posts are usually reflections and musings on these readings.
As with all practices and disciplines, I sometimes struggle with my daily readings. At times I let other things that I need or want to do take precedence, crowding them out. And sometimes I open up the readings but find them incredibly difficult. I will begin reading one of the passages and quickly find myself frustrated and eager to try the next one. Some days all of the readings have quite the opposite impact I hope for. They do not make me feel closer to God or show me what I should do. Instead they grate on me and make me want to turn away.
Sometimes the verses feel like empty platitudes that fly in the face of reality. Sometimes they describe a God and a life of faith that seems little like my current experience. Sometimes they make promises that seem terribly hollow in light of struggles in my life or those close to me, or in light of the horrors facing to many in our world.
What happens when the presumed or hoped for promises of faith don't materialize? What should one do when God does not come through as expected? I am prone to wax theological as such moments. It can be an interesting, even satisfying exercise at times. But working on a better, more nuanced theological construct of God doesn't always do much to address feelings of resentment or abandonment or anger that may be simmering.
I also have a suspicion that many efforts to "explain" those situations where God fails us or the world leave us without much of a God. The God who is encountered in many Mainline, progressive, or liberal congregations (a grouping of which I am a part) seems not to have much sway over things other than my interior life. Many such congregations are terrified at the prospect of doing some of the bold things Jesus calls us to do because we cannot imagine we have the resources to do them, and neither can we imagine that God will provide what we are missing.
I'm critiquing myself as much or more than anyone else. I struggle to see myself as able to do anything more than what I already have the talent, personality, disposition, and inclination to do. Perhaps if I got some more training and developed some more expertise, I could do more, but I don't expect more or new to happen because of God.
And so when I open the morning psalm and hear once again about God's promises to protect and shield, when I read of assurances that the gift of the Spirit will transform believers' lives, I start to get irritated. I'm not entirely certain, however, if my irritation is with God or with myself for the fear that keeps me from testing such promises and assurances.
I've said this before, but it bears repeating (if only to remind me). Sometimes such moments can be openings and opportunities. They can create a kind of crisis that requires action. Granted, one such action could be to abandon faith altogether, but I have a hard time imagining myself going all in on that option. Another action might be to try on a deeper and fuller faith, one that actually takes the risk that God might come through when I do as Jesus says. I think maybe that's why they call it "a leap of faith."
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