Why be Distracted by Facts When Theory and Wild Guesses are What Really Matters?

Man, what a day I had.

I ran up to church to meet with the pastor about the book I’m helping him write. I also dropped off a couple of items I thought could help them out. I spent an hour and a half with him, going over organization and structure. Then he invited me to a GAP meeting. This is what they call their small prayer groups: “God Answers Prayer.” The church has about a million of these for women and maybe fifteen for men, which shows you how the demographics are. The one I went to is the pastor’s group, so all the guys there were leaders. Two were former military, one was the pastor’s son, one was a music leader, and another was a cardiologist. Okay, I guess he wasn’t exactly a leader, but he seems to be close to the nerve center.

The pastor made the mistake of asking me what my impressions of the church were, and I guess I spewed for ten minutes, telling them all sorts of background they probably did not want to hear about. But they were very nice about it. When I talked about an experience I had had, in which the presence of Jesus came to me and pretty much sat next to me, one of them nodded his head vigorously. I think he knew exactly what I meant. I need to know more people like that. I felt like Richard Dreyfuss in Close Encounters of the Third Kind, when they dumped him in a room full of other people who had been given visions by extraterrestrials. Someone else understands!

They’re doing all sorts of wild stuff up there. They’re opening an accredited Bible school, where you can get a for-real degree that can later form the basis of a master’s. They’re having a huge convention-type thing just for women, and they’re going to need male volunteers. Not sure what for, but I suppose it’s safe. They’re having a men’s prayer breakfast. And the pastor is thinking of putting together a deal where men help confused boys get it together. A lot of kids in that area need basic instruction in things like manners and hygiene and responsibility. Who else is going to teach them?

They seem happy that I’m willing to show up once in a while and do something, but from my perspective, they’re doing me a favor. This is what I wanted. Going to church once or twice a week, leaving a little money, and going home do not constitute living by faith. I want to be part of the team.

For a long time–as long as I can remember–I’ve felt out of place in this world. Unwelcome. I find the mindset and lifestyle of unbelievers grubby and dismal. I don’t seem to be able to fit in, even when I try. I don’t think there is a place for me in the brutish realm of people who think this is all there is. I’m hoping I can be more at home among people whose beliefs are like mine.

A reader–maybe Ed–once left a comment about this sensation. It was a scriptural reference, reminding us that Christians aren’t really part of this world. We’re like ambulatory embassies. Present in a hostile country, but property of a different land. The Bible actually calls us ambassadors.

I feel so relieved. This stuff works. This is how life is supposed to be. Not a luxury cruise, but still, a succession of triumphs. Even our losses are wins. How can you beat that?

I kept saying something wonderful was going to happen to me, didn’t I? I didn’t know what it was. I admitted that. It looks like it’s going to be an assortment of wonderful things.

But why talk about things I can’t prove? Much better to whine about how old the dinosaurs are and whether our ancestors were monkeys. Those are the things that really matter, aren’t they? And the apparent trivial inconsistencies in the gospels…I should be deeply, deeply concerned about those. Why get caught up in things like joy and purpose and miracles and answered prayers and victorious living? No intellectual cares about things like that.

Sorry I even brought up the subject. What was I thinking?