God's Eyes

There is a song by, I think, Montgomery - Gentry with the lines, "back when I knew it all."  At age 59 I know so much less than I did at 29...so much less.  When I was younger, I was pretty sure I had, if not all, at least a lot of answers, which, frankly is quite ludicrous because I rarely asked questions.  James Thurber said, "it is better to have some of the questions than all of the answers."  I rarely asked "why" questions.  I asked "how" a lot, but rarely why.  I must have been a breeze to raise.

I praise God for my parents who gave me a more balanced view of life when the resident preacher at our church railed against mixed bathing, which is nothing like it sounds.  When I told my mother that I could not go to the Y to swim because Brother So and So said that I would go to hell, she informed me that I most definitely would NOT go to hell, and that she had paid the Y dues and I was going swimming.  I never asked why to either argument.  Imagine my confusion when I was told not to go to school dances because it could end in pregnancy.  I did not ask why.  I had friends whose parents would not allow them to listen to rock and roll in town, but when on vacation they could because no one knew they were Christians there.  I did not ask why.  When it was inferred and sometimes spoken outright that our certain persuasion (don't say denomination) of Protestantism was the only one getting anybody into heaven, I never asked why. 

I believe with all my heart that no harm was intended by those who professed these "truths."  They were trying desperately to help us tow the line, and if the threat of hell would accomplish that, then so be it.  They wanted, with all their hearts, to help us live good lives.  They wanted us to avoid the pitfalls of lust, drunkenness, unclean language, and being poor examples to others.  They loved us.  They meant well.  I do not fault them, but shame on me for not asking some why questions.

I raised children who constantly asked why questions.  As adults, they still do.  Okay, I'm their mom.  Maybe I am biased, but they are two of the most intelligent, thought provoking young people I know.  I have learned so much more from them than they could ever learn from me, and one thing they have taught me is that I can ask why.  No, not that I can ask why, but rather, I should ask why.  It still doesn't come easily to me, but I am working on it.  Thank you, my precious children.

Wednesday night I attended a Bible study.  This is the first time I have been to a class at church on Wednesday night in years.  My moratorium on Wednesday nights started when I heard the punchline to an old joke, "Wednesdays don't count," and continued when I discovered that Wednesdays were the only evening I had the house to myself.  Funny how good habits are so easy to break, and bad ones so difficult.  But, that is a topic for another day.

I don't know the official title of the class, I just know the goal is for us to learn to look at the world with God's eyes.  That is quite a bit different from looking at the world with my eyes, and then convincing myself that God sees it the same way.  It is obvious that I am going to be very uncomfortable in this class.  I am pretty sure that I am going to have to revisit many issues that previously I thought were settled.  I believe that I am going to have a love/hate relationship with this class.  I am fairly certain that I am going to have to visit why questions I never asked before.

We had to answer a questionnaire.  There were eleven questions.  I don't remember them all, but one asked how many people I know who are Muslim, Jewish, Baha'i, Buddhist, or Atheist.  Let me just say, my answer for all demographics totaled approximately 3.  I don't even know what Baha'i is.  Another question made the inquiry as to whether I noticed people of Middle Eastern descent prior to 9/11/01.  My answer was no.  Then, I had to admit that I do feel uncomfortable on an airplane near people of other ethnicities.  I am not proud of that. 

My not asking why created in me an unrefined, but definitely present, viewpoint that God is for white, middle class, protestant (preferably CofC) Americans.  Boy, the confessions are pouring out, but I never even asked why until my son said, "Mom, don't you know that if you had been raised a Muslim, you would be a Muslim?"  Let me repeat, I am not proud if this, but that was really the first time I had ever seriously considered why I am a Christian.  I am a Christian because I was raised a Christian, and I never asked why.   Now, that is not the only reason I am a Christian.  Every fiber in my body believes the Jesus story.  I cannot imagine believing anything else. It is just in me.  But, I am having to ask why about a lot of other parts. 

I do not want to ask why.  God has other plans for me.  He brought into my life Ken and Marshall and MP and Josh and Lee and Preston and Sandra and, above all,  Jesus to help me see how much I have yet to learn and that it is okay to ask why.

So, at age 59, I am more confused than at age 29.  But, I am free. I am free to ask why.  I am free from having to have all the answers.  I am free to not have to figure out who is out and who is in.  That is not my bailiwick.  I am free to love a God who is not capricious, who is love, and who is in charge.  I don't need to know how, and I know why...because he loves each and every one of us whether we are Protestant, Jewish, Buddhist
Baha'i (I don't know what it is now, but I'm sure there will be a Wednesday night when I find out), or Atheist.  And, if I am going to look at the world with God's eyes, I will show my love as well.  I won't be able to do anything else.

So, for today, I wish you why questions, few answers, love, and

blessings