“A mother understands what a child does not say.”
Jewish Proverb

In a way that no one else can, thanks for understanding me, mom.

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This morning, something in the air reminded me of Grandma June’s backyard. On balmy summer mornings like this, the sweet dew would stand on the tips of grass blades and the leaves of Grandpa Arlie’s tomato plants. And the cottonwood tree, shedding small twigs and leaves on the patio, would hover over and shade me as I’d swing all day – singing songs, telling stories, and creating worlds the way kids do.

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“Revealing and Terrifying God, whose very revelation is mystery, forgive our frightened attempts to possess you. Theology has become our way to try to be in control, dear God, even of you. We ask for the humility that comes from the unavoidable recognition that you insist on our being your people. What an extraordinary thing. Amen.”

Stanley Hauerwas, Prayers Plainly Spoken

The first time I experienced a denomination war was when I went to college. I went to a Christian college, a Baptist General Conference college to be exact. And, unknowingly, I stepped into the crossfire between a bunch of fanatical Armenians and radical Calvinists.

I hesitantly sided with the Calvinists, agreeing more with those who said that I couldn’t lose my salvation than those who said I could. (I reasoned that if I couldn’t save myself, I couldn’t unsave myself…and I knew I was saved.) So I learned a bit about T.U.L.I.P., went to John Piper’s church, and did my best to spout Calvin’s rhetoric.

The semester I joined the Calvinists, I also visited a Lutheran church and accidentally took wine for communion instead of grape juice. It was also the same semester I worked on the student paper with a guy who bravely converted from a Baptist to a Catholic.

I was confused.

But nothing would confuse me more than moving from the Midwest to the MidSouth and becoming a member at a Southern Baptist church. Staunch, long faces crowded the sanctuary, people walked to the front to become members, and church rolls overflowed with names of people who had not attended Sunday school in nearly a decade. I’d never seen anything like it.

I didn’t stay there long, but returned to the world of non-denominationalism – a Bible church. Thank God for the American non-denom Bible church. I had settled back in, removed from the divisions and superiority, and started to see a little more clearly.

Then I went to work for a Christian company. Re-enter confusion. In the two years I’ve worked there, I’ve been subjected to every idiodic joke about everyone from Nazarenes to Baptists to Church of Christ-ers. And, frankly, I became bitter about it all. The arrogance. The assumptions. The striving. The division.

I didn’t stay bitter long though. With the lingering din of human voices, I began to explore what God says. And under all the tenets and legalistic drivel, I unearthed truth. So, for what it’s worth, here’s the short list of what I believe:

I believe God is God.
I believe Jesus is God.
I believe the Holy Spirit is God.
I believe in the Trinity.
I believe what the Bible says.
I believe Jesus loves me.
I believe Jesus died and rose again.
I believe in faith, hope, love, mercy, grace, and peace.
I believe musical instruments are a pleasure.
I believe in dancing every chance I get.
I believe wine is delicious.
I believe raising hands in worship is appropriate.
I believe holy visions are real.
I believe God still does mind-boggling miracles.
I believe.

So what does that make me? Not Baptist. Not Presbyterian. Not Catholic. Not Episcopal. Not Charismatic. Not Lutheran. Not Armenian. Not right. Not wrong.

It just makes me a believer. A believer in the God of the universe who is, in fact, a mystery we will never figure out with our limited theology and finite minds. That’s what I believe…and knowing that He is, is enough for me.

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A prayer for you. And for me.

Lord, make me an instrument of Thy peace;
where there is hatred, let me sow love;
where there is injury, pardon;
where there is doubt, faith;
where there is despair, hope;
where there is darkness, light;
and where there is sadness, joy.

O Divine Master,
grant that I may not so much seek to be consoled as to console;
to be understood, as to understand;
to be loved, as to love;
for it is in giving that we receive,
it is in pardoning that we are pardoned,
and it is in dying that we are born to Eternal Life.
Amen.

St. Francis of Assisi

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“The melody haunts my reverie and I am once again with you…”

Last night, Jason and I ate at a local Italian restaurant, chattering about life and dreams and our time at Fall Creek Falls. Toward the end of our meal, the music became louder.

“It sounds like there’s a violinist over there,” I commented, pointing toward the corner of the restaurant.

Sure enough, a thin, dark-haired girl played masterfully as conversations buzzed against the backdrop of her sonorous instrument.

“Can you have the violinist come to our table?” I asked our waitress a few minutes later as she took our plates away.

Jason and I were talking when the girl with the violin showed up at our table. She was shy and meek. “You would like me to play something for you?”

“Yes,” I stammered, glancing at Jason. I’d never requested a song from a live musician before. “Um, do you know Stardust?”

She looked surprised. “Yes. Yes, I do.”

She stepped back several feet, asking us to be sure we could hear her, and then she began. The familiar melody, my most favorite melody, filled the bustling room. An old lady at the table just next to the girl stuffed several bills in the violinist’s tip bag that dangled from the the neck of her instrument. She seemed to think the song was for her. But it wasn’t.

The violinist continued, capturing the magic of the haunting melody. I looked at Jason, awe-struck tears streaming down my face, caught off-guard by the simple beauty and captivating mystery of this song that I have loved for so many years. But mostly, I was overwhelmed to be sharing the moment with him.

I’ve always listened to Stardust by myself, but tonight I shared it with Jason. And I let the moment sink deep down and brushed another tear away as the final refrain lingered.

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