The fantasy of faith

I've found myself thinking about the oddities of my faith a lot this week. It is incredibly messy, and I really like that about myself.

Last week, a friend posted a blog asking how Christians can view God as "good" in light of the Hebrew Scriptures. Is a God who assists people in eradicating entire cities, who flooded the world really good? I had to admit that such passages give me pause. That I wonder if such historical stories tell us more about the people's perception of God than the reality of God. That the story and hope I gain is that throughout the Hebrew Scripture is a woven tale of God loving God's people; of God going to amazing lengths to display that love. Strangely enough, the response from my post-Christian friend was that if he returned to Christianity, it would be my brand. And here I just thought I was confused.

On Sunday, instead of watching the Super Bowl, I went on a walk (you can read the tale of that experience on my running blog at silverlinedjenn.blogspot.com). Since my buddy Chad has been bugging me about the downloadable lectures at Veritas ("Denfolls, go to Veritas NOWS" -- this may or may not be the place to note that Chad and I most often write to each other in the phonetic rendition of five year olds missing their front teeth. Which can be interesting when we are discussing issues of depth), I downloaded a few lectures of some folks I dig and transferred them to my seldom-used mp3 player.

As I walked, I listened to Madeleine L'Engle discuss fantasy and faith. She discussed the idea that truth is often somewhere beyond facts. That faith is best addressed in fantasy instead of theology, because it is something beyond the realm of mere facts.

"A Wrinkle in Time" was one of my favorite books when I was a kid. To this day, whenever I wish I could get somewhere faster or miss a friend who is far away, I wish for the ability to wrinkle in time. And I hope my recollection of that part of the book is accurate enough for that sentiment to mean something. I desperately need to reread that series!

Madeleine is another messy faith sort of person. And dreadfully honest -- I love it. After the lecture, she was asked by an atheist about the "fantasy of God." "That fantasy has always seemed too simple," he said. Ah, but it is the most difficult fantasy in the world, Madeleine responded. And I find myself agreeing. I don't find faith easy. Perhaps it is my questioning, cynical nature, but I struggle regularly to believe. Madeleine said "If I believe in God wholly and completely for two minutes every 7 or 8 weeks, I'm doing well... it is life-threateningly difficult, but it matters."

I've begun following the blog of Nadia Bolz-Weber, a rather unlikely ordained minister in the Lutheran church. My buddy (and pastor) Jeanie introduced me to her by sending a sermon Nadia preached recently on the confession of Peter. In it she states: "I often have people say to me 'I can’t say the apostles creed because I’m not sure I believe all of it' Well, do I believe every line of the Apostles creed when I say it? Sometimes yes, but sometimes no. But here’s the thing. In a congregation….for each line of the creed there is probably someone there who believes it. So we are covered. Because it’s not my creed. It’s the church’s creed and I, thank Jesus, am a very small part of the church. When we confess our faith, the Body of Christ carries the faith for one another. As a body. On each other’s behalf. God creates faith in community where we daily convert each other to Christianity."

Since I'm pulling from all this great women of faith, I should pull in my friend Robin, who first introduced me to the idea of the church community carrying faith for us. I think it is a lovely thought. I mentioned on my running blog that my training partner and I need each other to believe in each other's running abilities -- Tiffany (another great woman of faith) believes that we can be faster, while I urged us to become marathoners, believing we could handle the distance. If such interdependence is necessary in something as inconsequential as running, how much more so is it true in faith?

While the Baptist church doesn't tend to recite creeds in the manner of our mainline friends, each song we sing and Scripture we read is a creed of sorts. And through that collective action, we believe together, for each other. You taking these two minutes, and maybe me finding the strength to carry the next.

And to tie up and sum up what is impossible to tie or sum, it is in that deep mystery -- that fantasy -- that I find a God who is good. A God beyond my comprehension or ability to believe -- but a God who makes all the work of faith worth it.