"Bad Theology"

Every day, I am reminded of my "bad theology."  In my own defense, I was raised with bad theology.  I trusted the adults in my life to know what they were talking about, and sometimes maybe they did and sometimes maybe they did not.  In defense of those who shared it, they were definitely doing what they thought was good and right and best for those they taught.  That does not excuse me for getting almost to my 61st birthday without a better realization that some of what I was taught was bad theology.  It does not excuse me for my spreading of bad theology.

I was taught, and still know people who believe that it is wrong to read what others say about the Bible.  "We are to read it for ourselves and the Holy Spirit will guide us."  I believe that, but I have to wonder, if I believe in a transcendent God who is active and alive, why can he not "inspire" people now to a deeper understanding of the meaning of His word?  Why can He not use the intelligence and hunger for understanding of someone like N.T. Wright to help me gain a deeper insight?  Believing otherwise, seems, if not bad theology, at least a very limited boxed-in theology. 

So much of what I was taught was black and white.  I am not sure what we did with the scripture about not judging because we certainly had a refined sense of who was in and who was out.  Even I figured out at an early age that not only people who attended the church of Christ were going to heaven.  I remember in college, sitting in the balcony of Alumni Auditorium at David Lipscomb College before chapel, a good friend from my church informing me that my next-door-neighbor, one of the kindest most spiritual people I ever knew, was going to hell because she attended the Baptist church.  Really?  Please, God, tell me that nobody is living today who believes that....please.   I figure that person has lived enough life at this point to realize, himself, what a ludicrous thought that was. 

Absolutely, there was no possibility that Christ's sacrifice on the cross was far-reaching or strong enough to cover people who danced or "mix-bathed" or listened to rock and roll, or had premarital sex or drank or were attracted to the same sex.  His sacrifice only covered those of us who said the right things and believed the right things and who occasionally might utter a curse word, or play solitaire with "playing" cards (Old Maid was fine), or overeat, or tell a little "white" lie, or spread a little gossip.  We certainly cannot be having guilty people walking around with their struggles thinking God loves them anyway.  That might excuse them for their unacceptable behavior.  And, we cannot be culpable in their sin by not setting them straight and letting them know what they are doing that is dooming them to eternal hell.  Seriously, we might be responsible for their salvation as if God is incapable to handling it.  So, we did not mind letting people we barely knew or knew not at all how to straighten out their lives through tracts, "gospel" meetings that were anything but "good news," and door-to-door canvasing. 

We have many seeking, thinking, loving, questioning young people in our church family.  I love them.  I need them. We have a series of classes on movies and how to find God and Christ and the Holy Spirit in those movies.  Some of them are rated "R."  It is an adult class.  Some of them are violent and dark and have "language."  Some of my generation take exception to discussing these movies at church.  I do not attend the class because it is on Wednesday night, and those who know me know that I keep the boys on Wednesdays, and am usually too tired to stir from the sofa when they go home. My not attending would be enough to convince me that I really need not express any criticism of the class.  But, I know the young man who teaches it.  I trust him to not present anything salacious.  He is much wiser and has a much better sense of what is acceptable in a church setting than that.  

Once again, I was just living life, and not concerning myself about what anyone thought about that class.  I did chuckle to myself when I saw that one Wednesday night the movie to be discussed was No Country for Old Men, and the next week on the schedule was "An Old-Fashioned Hymn Sing."  I love a bit of irony...or is that a paradox - Betsy, Sandy...anyone?  As usual, I digress. 

Yesterday, as part of communion, another young man who is known to be extremely thoughtful, shared a few words.  He started out talking about, of all things, a movie; Man of Steel. As I listened to him, I had an epiphany.  Those of my generation who are so opposed to the viewing or discussion of these movies were raised with a pounding in their heads of the importance of remaining unspotted by the world.  We often are unable to get past the violence and the language to see the point.  We are working so hard to remain unsoiled that we miss the cleansing lesson of redemption and salvation that these young people see.  We see sin marring a perfect world (which it is), and they see Kingdom springing up in very unexpected ways in a struggling world.  I do not want to excuse sin, my own in particular, but I do want to see Kingdom.

For today I wish you love and joy and

Kingdom life.
blessings,

Could It Be?

WARNING:  Gross picture below!

It all started last Friday.  Sometime in the night, my son got up, slipped on a pillow on the floor, fell backwards and landed on his child's toy.  He said to himself, "wow, that is going to leave a bruise" (paraphrased).  When he woke up, there was blood all over his sheets, and while trying to figure out the cause, he discovered a cut in his back approximately two inches long and an inch deep.  His wife felt that he needed stitches, and asked if I could take him as she needed to get to work. My son, of course, felt it was a lot of hoopla for nothing.   Nurse Henderson was here (I know she gets so sick of us asking her all our medical questions....just like Mr. Lincoln gets asked legal questions all the time...funny, no one ever seems to need my Tennessee history advice), so it was suggested that he send a picture of the cut, so that Nurse H. and I could offer our expert and non-expert opinions concerning the need for stitches.  Below is the picture he sent:

 

Uh, yeah, I think you need stitches.  I got the baby, my son called his doctor, who in about 2 seconds of seeing the cut said, "wow, you need stitches!"  So after a couple layers of stitches, and a prescription for antibiotics, he went home.  Except for soreness in his back, the weekend seemed to go fairly well for my son and family. 

 

Fast forward....Monday morning.  Complaints of a raging headache and a general feeling of unwellness began.  I offered to let the baby play, nap and lunch at my house so my son could rest.  He rested and seemed to be much better.  Seems all is well, or at least on the road to well.

 

Tuesday morning....My daughter-in-law calls.  Her hubby, my son, has a fever of 102, she has to get to work, he needs to stay away from the baby.  I inquired as to whether they had checked for infection in the cut on his back.  She thought it looked okay, but with such a deep wound we figured an infection could be there and not noticeable on the surface.  When I picked up the baby, I asked him to please go to the doctor and have his back checked.  He was so miserable that he just felt like he could not get out of bed, but conceded that if someone would work it out, he would go.  Mr. Lincoln to the rescue!!  He called the doctor who said to take our son to the emergency room immediately.  Mr. Lincoln did.  Yay!!  No infection in wound, but there was definitely something going on.  Tests were run.

 

Wednesday....Tests are back.  Apparently hepatitis caused by either mono or medicine is what is causing all this misery.  Temperature is still 102.  He is miserable.  Further testing to be done.

 

Thursday...It is not mono.  By process of elimination, the doctor has concluded that he has Rocky Mountain Spotted Fever, caused by the bite of an infected tick.  What?  DO NOT GOOGLE such things.  Oh, my word!  There is one antibiotic designed specifically for RMSF, and it is prescribed. 

 

Friday...Our son is feeling better this morning, and much better by this evening.  Improving from the antibiotic seems to confirm the diagnosis.  Mr. Lincoln informed me he read that only about 800 cases of RMSF are reported each year in the U.S.  Wow, I bet he is feeling really special. 

 

Saturday morning...I have not heard anything this morning, so I am assuming the improvement continues. 

 

The real danger of Rocky Mountain Spotted Fever is a late diagnosis.  The sooner it is caught, the better chance of treating it.  My son is like a lot of men; he does not go to the doctor often.  People, die of RMSF because doctors do not recognize it, patients do not remember being bitten by a tick, symptoms are compatible with many other things. 

 

So I ask:  could it be that our son's fall in the wee hours last Friday was the beginning of events that would literally save his life?  (I know and love a few people who at this point are thinking, "I love her, but she's an idiot.  She cannot really believe this stuff!)  I cannot help but think that if he had not fallen, when he woke up with a fever of 102 degrees 4 days later he would not have gone to the doctor in fear that his wound was infected, tests would not have been run, and while an eventual diagnosis may have been made as symptoms increased, perhaps it would have been too late.  

 

I am not saying this is how it is, I am asking, "could it be?"  I believe it could. 

 

So for today, I wish you belief in possibilities, good health, and I wish you

 

blessings

Day three...and home

This morning I bid a fond farewell to the Country Inn and Suites and headed up Lookout Mountain to Rock City.   Barns with "See Rock City" dot the countryside, and I have seen them all my life, but I have never been there.  It was lovely...a little hokey and commercial, but the rock formations and the flowers were incredible.  I will admit that I sort of attached myself to a couple (they didn't know, but I kept them in view) as we went through the caverns.  There were a lot of creepy Mother Goose characters lit with black lights in the caverns and it felt scary and I felt a bit claustrophobic.  I went through Fat Man's Squeeze, and seriously, a fat man could not have made it through.  I saw 7 states from Lover's Leap Lookout, but I saw them away from the edge.  I was transported to the waterfall with Daniel Day Lewis in Last of the Mohicans. 

After my walk through the gardens and rocks, I had two white chocolate covered graham crackers to keep my strength up as I contemplated driving back down the mountain.  I seriously thought about getting a room at The Chanticleer which is a fabulous B&B across the street from Rock City, but I decided that I wanted to come home instead.  41A was to be the route I followed, except for the brief stretch at Nickajack where the bridge is closed.  I saw lots of men fishing there. 

I was really surprised at how desolate the area was, especially, along the Tennessee River.  I expected to see more vacation homes and resorts.  Lunch was at the Dutchmaid Bakery in Tracy City.  After lunch, I went to Sewanee and the University of the South.  In our next life, Mr. Lincoln and I are going to be history professors at Sewanee and live in a yellow clapboard house with a big front porch on University Avenue.  We will walk around town after dinner each night, then sit on the porch.  Our students will walk by and stop and chat and then wander off thinking how eccentric, and tough, and fair we are as professors.  Sounds lovely to me.

A lot of driving through some torrential rain, then sun, then rain led me to Nolensville where I did a little window shopping, bought some Martin's barbeque, and came home.  It was a nice weekend.  Maybe I could have stayed longer, but the pull home was greater than the need to be away.  Simeon dropped by to see us for a few minutes, and the phone has rung several times since my return.  I am sure I will sleep well, in my own bed tonight.  I need to thank Zoe, for their "Faithful" CD was a dear companion on my drive. 

I do not know if my head is straightened out or not, but I did enjoy my bit of solitude.  I am also very glad to be home.

So for today, I wish you a pull to home when you are away, safe travels, and

blessings