Of Mice and Atheists

I have found it to be an oddly faith-building experience lately to talk heatedly about God with an Atheist. It has been a refreshing and much needed change of pace to be on the side of wanting to lift up the beauty and good of the Church, and of God, rather than being the one to say all the ways we Christians are not being the church Jesus calls us to be. See, it forces me to reach down deep into my guts and find those reasons why, in the face of so much crap and disappointment and pervasive brokenness (communally and individually), I choose to remain a Christian and to remain committed to my faith in Jesus and desire to follow him.

Over the weekend I was talking to a few friends about why we think people should become Christians. My set-up was this: let's say there's no Hell--and the main impetus for wanting someone to be a Christian could not be that you wanted to save their soul from eternal torment. If you take that away, what would you tell them? Maybe it was the group I was with, all of us who are in a place of some real struggle right now, but it seriously wasn't easy to come up with reasons. Looking around, and realizing the real suffering going on in each of our lives at that moment, none of us had it in us to think that being a Christian really made your life any happier or less filled with sorrow and disappointment. Honestly (and maybe this is a post for another time), I often think being a Christian actually increases suffering (especially certain types), rather than decreasing it. Not that God should be about making us feel joyful and fulfilled all the time...but if all the knowledge that we are loved and that God is with us exists just as an abstract concept, and not in our guts and feelings, then it's sometimes hard to see the point. I know that's where faith comes in; but there are those times when it's hard to know that being a Christian is really worth it.

So after feeling like a total apostate, realizing I couldn't think of anything I could say to someone to make them think being a Christian sounds appealing...let's just say it forces me out of my shell to talk with an Atheist (who is combative, though mostly respectful) and to say why I do think God is real and important and at work in the world. And it's funny, because he could say the same thing I've said about God before (for example, pointing out that the world is so messed up and that if there was a God, God should really be intervening more and not letting so many people suffer), but it's so different coming from the lips of someone who mocks God than from someone who worships God. I take God to task plenty. But hearing someone else do it--someone who doesn't love and revere God, well, it just forces me to think about and articulate the reasons that in the face of what appears to be God's inaction, I still firmly believe God is in action. It is good to dig into and rediscover that part of myself. It is full, it is beautiful, and it has been neglected.

I am thankful for my Atheist friend.

Feeling Lenty

Thursday morning was a beautiful morning for me. And the thing is, even though I know that using words to describe it will not really work, and will only come off as cheesy; and it also won't even come close to capturing the glory of the morning...I feel compelled to share it anyway.
I was talking to a friend Thursday morning saying that I just wasn't feeling very "lenty" during this season of Lent. Often Lent is really important for me in terms of connecting with God and awakening my spiritual life. This time, I didn't add any practices (I usually add something instead of giving something up), and I just kind of went through the days as usual. But I noticed that the newest Speaking of Faith (NPR's weekly, hour-long show on faith and values; not necessarily Christian, just faiths in general) in my podcast inbox was an Armenian Orthodox man (Vigen Goroian) speaking about "Restoring the Senses: Life, Gardening, and an Orthodox Easter." So, on my morning walk, Vigen and Krista Tippet (the host of the show) accompanied me. For some reason, when they started talking about Easter, and senses, and new life, I almost immediately started crying.
See, I think the problem is, it's very common in the Western Church (and my particular congregation) to focus on Lent and Good Friday and Easter being about our yucky sinfulness and Jesus dying for our sins. And it's not like I don't believe in that at all...but the legalistic way of thinking about this time just doesn't capture me like it used to. It's not a metaphor that resonates with me on a deep level anymore. Partly it's because I just don't feel all this guilt anymore about my sinfulness; so this whole legal transaction way of thinking about the cross and Easter, well, on an emotional level it just rings hollow. HOWEVER...looking at it on other levels, really really speaks to me. Like, looking at the power of God to bring life out of death, both in my individual life and in the world that so desperately needs new life in so many ways. And seeing how the killing of Jesus reveals so much about human brokenness (that we would kill someone like Jesus), and Jesus resurrecting redeems that brokenness. Redemption, New Life, God triumphing over death/evil...the need for those things really resonates with me.
So as I was walking, and listening to Vigen talk about using all of our senses to experience Lent and Easter, I found a kumquat on the ground right on the sidewalk in front of me, even though there was no kumquat tree anywhere I could see. It was a perfect shade of bright orange, and I could squeeze it and smell a lovely citrus smell. It was just such a perfect addition to the love and hope and beauty I was feeling toward the world--and it was awakening my senses. So I just held it and smelled it for a mile or so.

Then I saw this tree--and it was just one of those moments where the beauty of everything was just overwhelming and real. And not in a sappy way. But there's no way to really explain it in words.

So anyway. Now I am more ready for Easter. I'm feeling more "lenty." Thanks to Vigen and to the common, remarkable beauties of God's creation. Happy Easter.