I admit, my blogging has slowed down a little in the past few weeks. My apologies to my eight faithful readers; I’ll send you a canned ham this Christmas to make it up to you.
I was standing in the shower this morning, trying to figure out where my inspiration has gone. The shower, being the conduit of all my truest musings and revelations, had an answer.
I haven’t blogged in a while because, simply put, the stuff swirling around in my head lately doesn’t readily lend itself to being expressed on the lighthearted, inconsequential sort of wife and mommy blog that I have constructed here. It is dismaying, opinionated, frightening, and unsanitized. In short, you probably won’t like it, and writing it down may not help me or you. You should probably come back for my next post, which I promise will be about something nice, like brownies.
I worry about the culture wars, about the growing number of people who say “evangelical Christian” like it’s a curse word, as if we are a poison or a plague, a blight that must be eradicated in the name of human progress. I see Political Correctness, a movement that I’m sure was born in kindness, grown into a surly teenager, run amok and unable to see reason or logic. And I wonder how long it will be before a law is passed forbidding me to teach my children my “intolerant” attitudes toward sin, or the “ridiculous” notion of absolute truth. I worry about winning the hearts and the minds of my son and daughter in a world of self-serving morality that promises everything and delivers emptiness.
My heart aches for the families around me, struggling to hold together. Inside and outside of the church, divorce claims so many marriages. It seems to strike like lightning, indiscriminately and out of the blue. I know that’s not true, but problems inside a marriage often go unseen until they’re so big it feels like a miracle would be required to overcome them. Maybe because Paul and I have grappled with our own marital devastation and come through on the other side, I feel more keenly the desire to do something, to help somehow. I just don’t know how.
I feel overwhelmed by what is happening in the Middle East. As headlines come and go, everything seems to be building towards some global showdown, and I don’t feel prepared. The more I read and see and study, the more obvious it is to me that there are vast populations of people in the world whose worldview and mindset we can’t even begin to understand. Despite the vigorous disagreements between western people themselves, all of our diplomatic missions and military strategies and peacemaking efforts are built around our common way of being in the world. We reason as a people who believe that each person is valuable, that each human being has rights (though we disagree sometimes on what those rights are) merely by virtue of being alive. We do not share that with those who are now methodically and relentlessly lining up against us. No matter who our president is or what measures we take, we will never be able to go back to life before 9/11. Our eyes are open now; we just don’t seem to know what we’re looking at. At times like this, I am reminded that civilizations rise and fall, that throughout history, religious freedom has been the exception, not the rule. And I feel afraid.
Fear is paralyzing. I feel tired. I want to pull the figurative blankets up over my head and wait for the worst.
And then, I open my Bible.
I see the same struggles that we are facing today, reflected in words that have not lost their relevance over thousands of years. There on the pages, among stories of floods and wars, persecution and fear, from Babylonian times to the golden age of the Roman Empire, is the story of God’s romance with us, and His great gift to those He loves: the One who brought hope to the whole world for all time.
I am not the first one to feel the earth tremble. I am not the first one to be afraid, or worried, or helpless. The answer for me, for all of us, is the same as it’s always been. “Do not let your hearts be troubled. Trust in God; trust also in me.” (John 14:1) Jesus said that to His disciples, at a moment when all around them looked dark and terrifying, and yet God was at work, even then. Just like He is now.
You know what? I do feel better. Sometimes I guess I just need to be reminded of what I already know.
I think I’m ready to write about those brownies now. Or ooooh, maybe I should go in the kitchen and do a little “blog research” before I tackle that very important subject. I just have to find my brownie pan…
(Thanks for listening.)