I have always wanted to be a writer. And I knew what I wanted to write: self-help non-fiction. My first book (written entirely in my head, never on paper) was going to be titled A Pack of Lies, with the subtitle: “If you are going to tell yourself a pack of lies about yourself, make it a good one.” So when I became a Christian, I read dozens, if not hundreds, of Christian books – mostly “spiritual growth” (i.e. Christian self-help non-fiction) and apologetics.
I’ve come to realize that mine is a very intellectual faith. I’m not passionately in love with Jesus; I don’t think I’ve ever been passionately in love with anyone. Ever. Not even my husband of thirty-some years (sorry, honey!). It’s just not my style. My mother told me once, “You’re too smart to be happy.” I don’t know if that is true; I do know I live my life mostly in my head.
So when it comes to matters of faith, I don’t get it. And it bothers me that I don’t get it. And I want to get it, and be able to explain it in an elegant and intellectually satisfying way, and that has been the story of my walk with Jesus.
I have come to understand that the only way Christianity makes sense is if you accept a whole lot of apparently nonsensical premises, like a spiritual reality that is far bigger than this physical universe, spiritual warfare, evil personified in devils and demons, and a whole lot of other stuff that is, as Paul says, “foolishness to those who are perishing.”
It all creates an insoluble dilemma for a would-be intellectual. And so I have spent most of my 25 year walk with the Lord asking questions. Wrestling with God. Looking for answers. Trying to understand; trying to wrap my head around a God who is so big, I know I will never succeed.
And that is what this blog is all about.