Two Weeks

Two weeks to pack. 

Two weeks to sort, to trash, and to give away. 

Two weeks to wait, to pine, and to worry -- at least a little bit. 

In two weeks, we'll move into our forever house. I'm still fairly stunned by this seemingly-sudden turn of events, although I suppose I shouldn't be after looking at potential houses off and on for a year or so now. Taking the first real step toward purchasing -- applying for a mortgage -- wound up creating an unstoppable momentum. (Don't worry, I mean that in the best way; not in the out-of-control, dangerous, carrying-you-where-you-really-shouldn't-go way.)

I am beyond delighted with the new-to-us house that will officially be ours in two weeks. The house is Samuel's age, so that should be easy for us to remember, and it has had two owners before us -- far less history than anywhere we've lived previously. It is on the shore of a lake, which might actually be deemed a pond by some, but which we (and apparently the HOA, if the signs mean anything), have determined we are calling "the lake." The Lake House. 

I can hardly think about anything else. I will have to marshal this energy and focus into packing boxes over these next two weeks. How refreshing it will be to have a fresh start! How exciting to move and not need to move again, ever (Lord willing). I feel very fortunate and blessed. 

Losing My Religion

     I must confess: I have given up my belief.  I just don't feel that it's necessary anymore. In fact, I think it was holding me back more than it was helping.
     But wait, wait! It's not what you think.
     In my experience as an Evangelical Christian, I found it to be expected that one would doubt, if not outright deny and refute, the theory of evolution via natural selection. There seemed to be an implicit rule in Evangelical circles that to accept the possibility of evolution being true was to compromise one's theology and doctrine. I must confess: I no longer think this stance is necessary to my faith.
     I completely get it why some Christians think that it is so important to deny evolution. They think it must not be true, could not be, because it would negate their understanding of God and the Bible and the powerful experience they have had with both. They might think, "If we need God because of our sin, and death exists because of sin, and Jesus conquered sin and death... then how could God have created a system which would utilize death for forward motion?"

     What I have gradually come to understand is that physical death is not necessarily the great evil that we portray it to be. I first began considering this idea when contemplating the problem of pain. One of the books Heath and I were reading proposed, "What if your death isn't the worst thing that could happen to you?" We realized that, indeed, our physical death, or an injury or illness that bring us closer to death than we'd like, is not the worst thing that could happen to us. Becoming the sort of person who is dead inside is far worse. Being eaten away by bitterness and having your perspective clouded by anger and fear, and being granted a long life to experience such a state -- that is worse than death. So, this gives a different perspective to our struggles and questions about why bad things happen to us. Illness or injury or death of a loved one, or any kind of loss, really, is certainly a bad thing, in the sense of being painful and difficult and outright horrifying and seemingly unbearable at times. However, even the most difficult, awful-to-experience things can be used to insure that we do not become dead inside. Ultimately, I think if we were given the chance to choose between the painful experience or a lifeless existence, having been given a true picture of each... I think we would chose the pain over death inside.
     I will never be one to say that God afflicts us with such things to keep us humble and aware of our need for Him. No! My perspective is that these things are simply part of how the world is in its current, natural state, and it is a given that some of us will experience these things. Until the world is changed, it is inevitable. We can pray to not be given hardships, and I do believe God can intervene and help us to avoid them at times. However, somewhere, someone in the world will be in pain or experiencing loss. It will not go away completely, and God may not always find it necessary or desirable to steer me away from being the one who experiences it.
     Really, one should only ask "why me?" in the sense of "why would God shield me from a calamity that is statistically destined to befall me, and if not me, someone else?" He may, and He may have good reason to do so. But if we do experience that calamity -- then do we wish the person behind us on the road would have gotten crashed into by the vehicle running the stop sign instead of us? Or that our neighbor's liver cells mutated incorrectly one too many times and began growing into cancer, rather than our own? A certain amount of pain will be in the world until it is made new. I don't deny wishing, hoping, desperately praying that it would not befall me or the ones I love. I hope and pray and, at times, beg that God would spare us. But ultimately, I know: These things will happen. And they might happen to me.

     God's rain falls on the just and the unjust. I don't think this scripture refers only or even primarily to literal rainfall. That fact should make us in awe of the patience and love of our God, rather than mad at him that he doesn't sort it all out and intervene all over the place to make sure that bad things only happen to bad people.  I think it might cause some sort of chaotic domino effect and completely disrupt the timeline, causing the universe as we know it to collapse, if God were to begin intervening every time we think that He should. I think there is something larger at play that we aren't able to understand -- a good reason that would satisfy our objections, if only we had the capacity or readiness to understand it. Any sci-fi fan knows that this is often the way the story ends: Things were not what they seemed. It was more complicated than could have been imagined. After ascending to a higher plane of understanding, everything suddenly made sense. We write these sort of plot lines because they resonate with us as human beings, Christian or not. They resonate with us as being true to reality.

     So, if it was not a compromise to theology and doctrine to entertain the possibility of evolution, would I still question it?  Well, it is in my nature to research various topics of interest to me, and I do so quite frequently.  If I apply my usual methods to this particular topic, I would come out of it saying, yes, of course, evolution is the best scientific explanation for how the current manifestations of life all around us developed. I trust the consensus of experts, especially when it is a heavy consensus. The acceptance of evolution does not negate the spiritual truths I hold dear; it doesn't speak to them anymore than my understanding of germ theory or psychological disorders does. I feel comfortable, now, embracing the spiritual truths that are most real to me as well as entertaining the explanation for the origins of living things that most scientists would support.