By David Schultz
March 13, 2000

Sunday afternoon has arrived only after a small capsule of life's intent is washed away or brought ashore in the form of what we call a week. This day presents itself as both a beginning and ending either through purpose or historical accident. But sorting out the mixing of cultural chronology is eluding me as swiftly as the events of the last seven days. I've just spent the better portion of my morning in church. Throughout the service, I must say that my mind was unfocused. At least not on what many might agree it should have been focused. There are several thoughts that I could not shake, but which left me feeling like a bit of a doubting Thomas.

First was the reaction to one man's dilemma of seemingly epic proportions. I had great difficulty believing his trial was brought about by a fiendish plot from the pit and performed by hell-raising imps. Instead, the simplest explanation formed in my mind, perhaps the key to the puzzle was an empty gas tank.

The next was a result of the usual habit of visualizing myself as a visitor holding any one of a number of diverse backgrounds. I tend to feel sympathetic alienation brought about by the voluntary vernacular spoken by this small, tight group and their inclination to downplay other seemingly similar groups.

Also, I can't shake the somewhat humorous idea that the evangelist's voice starts to sound remarkably like the distorting effect of a poor quality public announcement system whenever he begins to place great emphasis on a particular point. (Perhaps sounding very much like a dog-eared microphone he may have heard other evangelists speak from when he was but a lad?) I'm quite sure that the system being used is of significant quality to combat this sort of distortion, which seems to be combating the point he so longs to make. Maybe the similarities are but a coincidence, and this is not a stylistic ploy to compensate for content.

I also find myself speculating as to why the message seems to place the importance of my reaction to it far above any of the relatively puny decisions I may make on any of the other six days. Does this atmosphere of high-profile musical instrumentation, emphatic and persistent monologue amid a group of people with similar views really prepare me for the diverse interactions and down-to-earth decisions that are required for an overcoming life?

My critical questioning coalesces with a final thought. Does this spectacle of service bear the same resemblance to the first century church as the Cadillacs in the parking lot do to the sandals that lined the entry to early home prayer meetings?

Through all of this there was at least one inspiring moment in the day. A mother feeding her toddler a mid-service snack of applesauce with patience uncommon to all but the most determined and thoughtfully performed tasks. But now it is afternoon and I lie lined with interruptions of sunlight reminding me of the earth's return from apogee. This is my favorite part of the week. I can sort through my thoughts, read the latest journals, and doze in natural light. This is where my weekly learning takes hold.

Inevitably I am reminded of David's prayer, "Create in me a clean heart, O God; and renew a right spirit within me." (Psalm 51:10) Is it wrong of me to question? Most certainly not. However, if my attitude is clean, my questions will lead to answers not born purely of my own speculation. Even so, questions do not disappear simply because I am willing to humble my spirit, even if the questions were originally poised with less than pure motives.

Then it hits me. There is little resemblance between now and two thousand years ago, just as I had suspected. But the majority of the differences derive from people. Flawed people. People, that no matter what the time or place, would be interjecting their own stained habits, perceptions, and ideas. These are the things that produced the differences in these distant cultures, this accumulation of events by inherently imperfect humans. This must be why Paul is trying to convince the Ephesians "With all lowliness and meekness, with long-suffering, forbearing one another in love; endeavoring to keep the unity of the Spirit in the bond of peace." (Ephesians 4:2,3)

The challenge, it seems, is not that I am fully right in my questioning, but that I overcome my own inconsistencies to constructively contribute to this world full of disparities. It is with a childlike humility that I too might hope to receive patient feeding.

© David Schultz, 2000

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David Schultz is an under-utilized, but over-appreciated engineer who works in the electronics industry. He sleeps and eats Mexican and pays dearly for his consumption near the crux of the Mississippi and Missouri rivers.

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