Another "What If" (Originally Written 8/31/2012)

Okay, so I’m sitting here on the porch with Rocky and my morning coffee thinking what a beautiful day and what I want to accomplish in the yard.

It looks and feels like rain – maybe. Yeay.

As always, I think how blessed I am to have what I have and do what I do. I begin thanking God and naming my blessings.

This time I begin by reflecting on my greatest blessing of all – the fact that God sent His son, Jesus, to earth to live as a man, think as a man, suffer as a man, and then He climbed up on that cross and died for me and my sins.

The living as a man part is the part that always gets me. It is so hard to imagine that He was, in fact, a human being, just like me. And did – or didn’t do – the same things as me.

It’s not that I doubt it – it’s just so hard to comprehend. And then, as I have often done, I find myself thinking –

Did He accomplish all this BECAUSE He was God’s son – or did He BECOME God’s son because of all the people who have lived and died He was/is the only one who did (or didn’t) do all these things?

My conservative Christian children and friends are likely gasping out loud right about now. Sorry about that. Chill. God doesn’t mind my questions, why should you? No matter how wacky or how old I get..

Actually, He and I have discussed this many times. Well, in this case, it’s just me thinking “what if” but He has heard this what if from me many times in my life. Almost as wacky as my “what if we’re merely the equivalent of a flea on a dog” what if. He’s very familiar with the odd or unusual “what ifs”of this particular wacky child of his. And never once has He reprimanded me for my wonderings, my “what ifs”.

Some things He eventually clarifies for me; other things, like this what if, remain unanswered. Likely it will remain so until I meet up with Him in person. Well, I mean, spirit. That’s okay, too. It is, after all, just a “what if”. Not something I plan my life around.

The reason I even think about this – not often, but sometimes -- is because, for me, it is even more amazing to contemplate the latter.

When the Broadway Opera/Musical, “Jesus Christ, Superstar,” came out back in the 60s, it offended many Christians. I thought it was the most amazing and uplifting spiritual experience of my life thus far.

It had always been easy for me to understand/accept the “divine” nature of God and His Son.

Growing up in a conservative Christian home praying before meals, attending church three times a week, I just never doubted God was God and Jesus was His son.

Seeing a play and listening to music that enabled me to see Jesus as a real live person who lived and and loved and experienced joy and pain – just like me – that took my understanding and love and awe to another level.

To think God’s son willingly came here to live and love and suffer as a man, a human being, for my sake fills me with gratitude and praise and awe that words fail to express...

To entertain the thought, the possibiity, the “what if” of him becoming God’s Son BECAUSE he . . .

“. . . was tempted and sinned not” ---

There simply are no words to express the humility and gratitude and awe such a “what if” generates in my heart and soul.

Heretically yours,
Sarah.

The Big and Small of It

"I don’t remember your hand being so small," he commented as he reached for my arm and engulfed his hand in mine.

"It’s the same size it’s always been," I replied.

We were walking down the church aisle. Jerry had moved back to Michigan two years previous returning to his job at Burroughs Corporation and now living in a rented house in Royal Oak, Michigan. Son, Tom, graduated from high school, had returned with him.

And here we were:

Time: 5:00 p.m., October 19, 1984, rehearsal of son John’s wedding.
Place: Franklin, Tennessee

It is now twenty-nine years since that event, seven years longer than our marriage of twenty-two years and five years since his passing in 2008.

His comment that evening – and any time since that the memory surfaces – wrenches my heart as I think of the significance of his comment and the thought and emotion that always surface in my own heart and mind.

Yes . . . my small hand in yours, Jer. I was small; you were big.  And strong. At least on the outside. On the inside, not so much. But I didn’t understand that when we were married. 

If I had . . .

Instead, as always, the memory of this seemingly casual exchange wrenches and squeezes my heart in painful remembrance and I wonder . . . 

If I had . . . 

maybe you would have . . . protected . . .
                                         defended . . .
                                         cherished . . .

that small hand . . . and the person attached to it.

Random Reflections on Memorial Day (5/27/2013)

No one could be more patriotic than me, I think.

Have always thought, " My kids can’t know this feeling. How could they? It’s not their fault. They weren’t young children in the early 40s when the war to end all wars was taking place. Posters, movies, newsreels, ration books, war bonds – being surrounded by the sights and sounds – albeit a safe few thousand miles away from the actual events." And yet they have now lived through similar wars and feelings.

Feelings similar, I imagine, to mine that erupt in tears and emotions that squeeze my heart whenever I hear patriotic and/or just plain old-fashioned songs from the 20's, 30's, and 40's.

And then I think, "What must God feel? What must He think looking down on His children – ALL his children – not just those of us who are "Amuricuns" . . . ?"

War was not invented by God. War was invented by humans . . . God’s children. Who believe their "tribe" is "the people" and anyone else is "the other". Lumped all together, the "other", then, become easy to despise . . . and hate . . . and kill. Down through the eons of time.

The bigger the tribe, the more advanced the civilization.

* * * *

"My, what big eyes you have . . . what big ears . . . what a big mouth . . . "

" . . . the better to eat you with, my dear."

* * * * *

So, here I sit. On the one hand, an ultimate Patriot, formed by the time and place I grew up in. Yet realizing my feelings/experiences/memories are based on a national need – the need to give allegiance to my country and its agenda above all else. That is what every tribe, my "tribe", requires.

As a woman of my time and place, that has been easy to embrace; an easy price for me to pay.

Not so for all the young men, and in more recent times, young women, who first were drafted, and now choose to serve their country, their "tribe".

Movies, slogans, posters, recruiters – propagandize and glorify the cause. Otherwise it could not evoke the patriotism needed to entice the boys and girls to proudly and joyfully sign up. To lay their lives on the line. For their country, their tribe. Yeay!

* * * * *

My thoughts wander. What If . . .

* * * * *

What if . . .

All those presidents and heads of states – of all the countries – sat down in a meeting place somewhere and said – as I believe God would say –

"War is not the answer. Killing is not the answer. And all you kids are gonna sit here til you come up with a better solution. No TV, no bike riding, no treats. Nothing. Sit right here ‘til you come up with a better idea." (My kids, if they read this will say – hmmm, sounds famililar.)


Instead, here I sit. With my patriotism bubbling over. Always. At the same time knowing that is precisely what "the tribe" intends. We have to think we are bigger than, better than, gooder than . . . all the "others." Because the "others" will do their best to take from us everything we have worked so hard to get. Our way of life, our "stuff", and yes, of course, our freedoms.

Our freedoms – to speak or not speak, to believe or not believe, to succeed or not succeed.

So I project what would happen if . . .

If all these presidents and heads of state would sit down . . . one time . . . find that "better idea" and say . . .

"There . . . will . . . be . . . no . . . more . . . wars.

"There will be no . . . more . . . killing . . .

. . . of . . . anyone’s . . . children.

Ever again . . . PERIOD."

* * * * *

If it is so wrong to kill a child who has yet to see the light of day, why is it – has it always been – so okay to kill them once they’ve experienced daylight . . . the beauty of sunrise and sunset . . . of playing hopscotch and football . . . of reading Dr. Seuss and Tolstoy . . . of Sock Hops in the gym and walking hand-in-hand with their forever sweetheart . . . or holding a newborn baby in their arms for the first time . . . or . . .

* * * * *

Let’s face it. Call it like it is. War makes the world go round.

And that is the greater tragedy in the Remembrance of Memorial Day.

Something Is Wrong with this Story (08/03/2002)

Journal Entry, 08/03/2002

Rented and watched the movie "John Q" last night. Almost turned it off. It is hard for me to watch movies about sickness and hospitals.

Occasionally the dialogue of the characters sounded not real, thinly veiled propaganda to support a political point of view. Although I happen to agree with the point of view. The liberals got it right. Again.

The climax blew me away, however. Reduced me to a mass of sobs and near hysteria as John Q lay on the table putting the gun to his head. I knew his wife rushing to give him the good news about the donor heart would be too late. I’m glad I was wrong.

I put the VCR on rewind and got into my "sleep" mode but the emotion and thoughts of John Q’s intended actions stayed with me. I tossed and turned and talked to God asking Him to help me understand until I finally fell asleep.

Most disturbing for me personally was the thought process that kept reminding me of a biblical story that has always troubled me.

John Q, after all, is just a story from someone’s imagination who had the wherewithal to make a movie expressing a political point of view. Certainly, aspects of John Q’s experience are valid. Certainly, our health care system needs fixing.

The story of Abraham and Isaac, however, for those of us who were raised to believe the Bible to be the inspired Word of God, is ultimately more troubling.

John Q. Abraham and Isaac.

Liberal Christians such as myself do not necessarily hold to the "inerrant" truth of every word in the Bible. It has been translated too many times by too many fallible humans. Even so, we embrace it as containing stories and examples of principles/values to live by. (Maybe we should have followed the example of the Muslims. They have never translated their "word of God" from its original language.)

John Q., a movie. Abraham and Isaac, a story. John Q would lay down his life to save his son. Abraham would kill his son to please God.

Something is wrong with this story.
========
Update -- Since writing this, I have learned the Qur'an HAS been translated into English.  My grand-daughter, whose father is from Jordan, has a copy.