Sprinting on the Highway to Hell or Stairway to Heaven

Here's the thing.... I am sick of the Caner scandal and absolutely done with reading the likes of Peter Lumpkins and his band of inimical associates. I will continue to pray for Dr. Caner's repentance and leave it at that. I am no longer the slightest bit interested in anything but their repentance. (I include Lumpkins and his band of inimical associates and anyone else enjoying this sad state of affairs within God's church.)

I am praying for the 'Dearborn Four' though in my opinion of that situation I am conflicted. I am OK with having conflicting thoughts and opinions, God knows every minute detail and the outcome is in His hands. It's His justice I pray for, if that matches the US Constitution, that's incidental.

So, what else can I possible write about? About a million other things come to mind, but the chances of anyone reading this unless I tag the post with something scintillating like, Liberty University, Dr. Ergun Caner or Lumpkins I don't imagine it will be read. You see we Christians love controversy and gossip as much as the heathens do... we just sprinkle it with prayer and call it good.

I had a great conversation with a young woman who attended the seminars I was blessed to teach on the biblical concepts of fear, hope and peace. She reminded me why theology matters; because when I believed in a gospel of cheap grace I had a domesticated god in my back pocket and certainly not the sovereign God of the universe. (See pastor, I listened so well I have stolen one of your lines.) Buffeted by the wind and every swing of my emotions, I had no safe place to put my hope.

I think she was a bit surprised that I shared some not so nice things about myself. I guess at 50 something I am all done with pretending to be something I am not. The worst things about me aren't the dope I smoked in high school or all of that wild living that came with growing up in the San Francisco Bay Area during the hippie, free love heyday of hedonism. No the worst things about me are the hideous sins I commit as a professing believer. By the world's standards, those were sins were/are my most grievous. I know exactly who I am and how easily I will walk away from Him. Prone to wander? Not me. I am prone to sprint off the path of righteousness like an Olympic athlete.

The object of being transparent isn't to regale in the sinfulness of my heart. I take no perverse pride in my sins. The point of ever bringing it up is to rejoice in His grace and mercy and to encourage my sisters to fight the good fight. Our sinful pride works against us in so many ways we even want to believe that we are worst of sinners. Nobody but a perfect and merciful God would have a thing to do with us if they knew who we really were........... and then condemnation settles in to our souls. The enemy robs us of the peace that is ours in Christ. Rather than speak up and address the trouble by asking for counsel, ...we smile and pretend it is not there.....letting our pride fan the spark of doubt until we indulge our sins because of unbelief and/or no accountability. It's good to be in a church where you can be transparent with your sins and no one will tell you that it's OK and let you stay there in their filth and aftermath. It's good to be in fellowship with folks who want the truth enough to be truly vulnerable with one another.

James 5:16
16 Therefore, confess your sins to one another, and pray for one another, so that you may be healed. The effective prayer of a righteous man can accomplish much.
(NAS)

Spiritual Aphasia aka Senseless Theology

I was recently asked why I read theology and follow theological debates. "It's all just words and opinions." Words. Words on a paper, words on a blog. Words that travel invisibly through our airwaves and our minds. What would our inner monologue consist of without words? Harsh words, gentle words, untrue words, and solid you-can-die-behind them words. They have secret lives in the depths of our souls. They overflow in torrents of grief and joy. They seep out of our character flaws, wearing down the weak convictions that hold them back until they contaminate all those around us. All of us are stained within and without by the raw sewage of unkind words. Our souls are in jeopardy for want of The Word. Jesus Christ. The Gospel. The Good News. Words matter. Doctrine matters. Theology Matters. What you win them with is what you win them to. I study theology because I was lost too long in a world that scrambles truth with its own ideas and preferences. I was fed a diet of tosse

Super Church a song for the Emergent-sy

In the early 70s I was in a youth choir at my church. Our youth pastor was a musician and his way of connecting with us as a group was through the choir and music. Somehow there was an affiliation between him and The Continental Singers, New Hope and Jeremiah People. He was worked with Moishe Rosen of Jews for Jesus too, I think. Are any of these names familiar to you? Though I remember the church fondly I was a profoundly lost and troubled young woman during my years there. That and time have muddled the memories quite a bit. Today I was digging through some old paperwork and one of the books to the musical we did. It's Getting Late For the Great Planet Earth, a folk rock oratorio by Cam Floria. Yes, that's right. Cam Floria put Hal Lindsey to music. There's a lot to laugh about and some to groan about but as I was looking through the songs and remembering, I found this little ditty and I only wish I could sing it for you. Just remember that this is circa 1972 and even th

What if.....

...what if I just need a place to let some words spill out? What if they spill out in bouquets of bright colors and pleasing scents but their frames are made of snakes and lies? Will you the reader be able to tell? Will it matter? When words smell like lilacs and honeysuckle do you care what lies beneath them? Perfumed syllables cover the stench of hope's decay. A violet or two will fool most surface dwellers, allowing them to pass by quickly and unaware. Is that what words are supposed to do? What if my aesthetics with words are similar to Morticia Addams' with flowers? What happens when luscious blooms are discarded? When the ragged silhouette of thorns is all that remains will you still see the beauty? Perhaps we'll find out.

rambling rosemarie

Search This Blog