Wrestling With God

Being the long-time Sunday school teacher of adults that I am, I often find myself reading a variety of fairly liberal religious essays, hoping to mine some gold for my class. My students are a wide variety of ages, and cross a broad spectrum of education and interest, so sometimes I walk quite a tightrope when trying to find material that will interest everyone. In the process, I have found some real gems, such as the books of Brennan Manning, which paint a picture of God as a very loving and forgiving Abba, or Father. I absolutely agree with Manning's portrait of God, because why would an intelligent creature like God waste so much time on a bunch of losers like humans if He didn't love us? I totally get it. Manning's words helped facilitate an entirely new and close relationship for me with my God. I was suddenly aware of how close He always is, how He is interested in our lives, and how He is always there in times of difficulty to help us through. He hears our prayers when we are so lost we don't even know we are praying, and He even sometimes answers these accidental prayers in the affirmative, which I have found mind-blowing. I have a very personal and intimate relationship with God, although no one I know would dare to call me a Bible-thumper. I think everyone has a right to choose their own path, just as I have chosen mine. God has many voices.

Now for my problem. I am currently reading a compelling work by Robin Meyers, a pastor from Oklahoma, entitled Saving Jesus from the Church, How to Stop Worshiping Christ and Start Following Jesus. It was published by Harper One in 2009 and retails for 24.99. I imagine it might also be found in most major public library collections. Meyers is no ordinary pastor, nor is his congregation the ordinary congregation one normally associates with those who call themselves Christian. An examination of their website is pretty enlightening. Their statement of belief I find quite refreshing. It says, in part, that "Christianity is a way of life, not a set of creeds demanding total agreement, and that what Jesus teaches us about God is more important than what the church has taught us about Jesus." Nothing about salvation, the cross, the Trinity, Jesus as God, nothing. No Apostles Creed here. Nothing expected, but rather, mind blowing, challenging, and, dare I say it?, frightening. In his book,

Meyers argues that what is important about Easter is not Jesus being raised to life(which he argues probably did not happen, and his arguments are very compelling), but rather that in the face of his death, Jesus' followers continued in his work, thus achieving the rebirth for which we all search so tirelessly. Bible stories of resurrection are "acts of devotion, because those who believed in Jesus before his execution continued to do so afterward." Wow. The book becomes meatier and more breathtaking the further one reads.

But I am afraid. Afraid to dare to believe that Jesus was not the Christ, but rather, an individual chosen by God to show us what He would have us do as His followers. Perhaps Jesus came to show us the face that made Moses' own glow so brightly when he came down from Mount Sinai with the two tablets of the Testimony. I am so afraid God is mad at me for daring to question all that I have been taught since I was a tiny little girl at Belmont Park United Methodist Church. I really don't want God to be mad at me. I would lose a wrestling match with God. Badly.

I can't help but wonder what God thinks of all those conservative folks who think that all one must do to be saved is believe in the Death and Resurrection of Christ, and that Christ went through it all just to save us from our sins. What kind of a person joins a religious group just to get something? Is this salvation what we "get"? How would Jesus feel about someone who only wants to "get"? What about following his example and DOING SOMETHING? What about helping others? What about challenging the status quo? The reason Jesus was executed for the most part is because he was a political liberal. He was a potentially dangerous problem for the Romans. He was an outspoken, intelligent troublemaker who cared about the less fortunate and dared to do something about it in a time when the lives of peasants were worth less than nothing. He argued doctrine with politically strong men, spoke in public to mere women, and didn't suffer fools lightly. He was, in short, brilliant, and I have never doubted his divinity.

Until now.