Two years ago my mind broke. I wrote about it while in the darkness. I can’t believe it has been two years. No, no. This is not a “recovery letter.” This is not a testimony of victory. You know, a testimony: where I was before, what happened that changed me, and how great things are now. I don’t have too many of those. This is simply a journal of my depression, two years after it began.

It is important to note that the darkness is no longer there. It lasted for a time, but the clouds broke and the black hole of sadness has lost much of its gravitational pull. Or maybe I have just learned how to cope. I don’t really know. I had a lot more answers three years ago than I do today. I am stable, yet somehow not so stable. Before I went through this depression, I prided myself on how emotionally stable I was. Well, maybe “prided” is not really the right word. I am not trying to be too self-debasing, so let me say this: I was thankful about how nothing could break me emotionally. A hard marriage, the loss of my sister, and the paralysis of my mom were no match for me. But suddenly, without warning, it broke. My mind broke. Why? I don’t know. Maybe it was the pain meds I was taking for my back. Maybe it was just that so much had built up in my life. Maybe it was missing some bill payments for the first time in my life. Whatever the case, something broke. For six long weeks I entered into a vortex of darkness and “other-worldliness” that, in my own thoughts, rivaled whatever hell must be like. For six long weeks I felt what my sister felt that eventually took her life. For six long weeks I had no wisdom, knowledge, or hope that could lend a helping hand. For six long weeks I finally learned what it meant to be depressed.

Two years later I walk with a limp. I respect depression. I fear what the mind can actually do to a person. What an incredible thing to know, that things can fall apart so dramatically without my action or consent playing a conscious role. “Bring it” is not something I say to depression. Two years later I am like a glass that has been broken and glued back together. I have hope again. I can smell again. I can notice things again. I see colors and people walking around like trees. But I don’t think my sight has fully returned and I don’t know if it ever will. I can walk again, but the angel touched my hip and I can’t walk so well.

Two years later, there are still times when driving down the road, playing a video game with my kids, or drinking a Coke out of a bottle, I notice that recovery is ongoing. “Oh, yeah,” I say to myself. “That is what it is like to notice good things.” During these times I want to call out to God and say, “Time out!” Whatever made me notice again what I had previously taken for granted needs to find its way to the shelves of the store.

Two years later I know there are places I cannot go in my mind. Two years later I look through the peep-hole in the door of my emotions before I let anything in. Two years later I long for a glory that knows no tears in a way I had not longed before. Two years later I am stable but scared. Scared that it might happen again. Two years later, my heart does not know how to respond to others who are groping for hope in a dark mind. I want to grab their depression by the neck and kill it, burn it, smash it, and choke it. I hate it.

Many end these type of messages with the “But I am glad I went through this” type stuff. My sister says she is glad I went through it. Okay, fine. Gotcha. Neat. But I don’t know if I am. I think I would rather not live with the haunting memory of that time. At least not now. To know that this actually exists in this world . . . Really? That? Torture, hunger, blindness, poverty, even holocaust are things I gawked at before. But depression is from a planet I could not imagine existed. A dark planet. A cold and lonely planet that no telescope can see, no pictures can describe, for which no analogy can be found. It only exists in theory before you have been there. But I think I would have rather seen it through the telescope. When I returned from that world, a part of me was left behind. I think I would rather not have had that passport stamped.

But I serve a God who is sovereign and does not have the word “meaningless” in any dictionary he has signed. In this, I suppose, you can pull my teeth until I say, “Okay, it was good for me to go there. Better to go to the house of mourning than the house of feasting. Okay. Yeah, okay.” In glory, you will not have to pull my teeth to say this. But for now, you still do.Similar Posts:

• Dealing With My Depression #1: Muffling Its Voice
• After Depression: An Update on My Broke Mind
• Not Alone
• Broken
• On Losing My Joy

Fast forward to 11am.

I pulled up to the house. I knew exactly where it was. I did not even need a map. It was about two miles away from where my parents used to live. The house was festooned with Christmas decor. It was a modest home near a pond. My parking job was sloppy, partly due to the fact that I was undecided as to whether I was staying, and partly because I had to park in a cul-de-sac. The same thought went through my mind that had gone through it for the last twelve hours: He is going to think you are a nut. You cannot just walk up to someone’s house that you don’t know and expect to talk to them. Are you a stalker? However, I countered this with a classic: Michael, you are probably the only one crazy enough to do something like this, so it will work.

I saw no distinctive marks that would make me believe this was his house. Nothing on the mail box (and I certainly was not going to check the mail – though I did think about it for a second). No door mat that said, “Welcome to the Odens’ Home.” I still was not even sure if this was his home. All I had was an internet search, done the night before, which led me here. The conclusions of Google are not something to be relied upon, so I was ready to apologize for knocking on the wrong door.

You see: a few days ago someone came to the Credo House in Edmond, Oklahoma (where I work), and said something astonishing: “Did you know Thomas Oden lives in Oklahoma City now?” Now, for those of you who know me, you know that this is something that I, if anyone, should  have known. “No he doesn’t!” I responded, with some degree of theological authority mixed with some degree of “what-if?” excitement. “Yeah, he does,” came the response. I thought about countering with, “Yeah, right. Then why hasn’t he been here?” – as if that would have sealed the deal regarding this person’s obvious lack of knowledge. You must understand: Thomas Oden is a heavyweight in my field. He is a theologian of theologians. His stature is such that one would think he was a dead theologian. A vapor? A myth? A dark knight? Someone who would not really exist but for all the theology books I have at Credo which have his name printed on them. Sure, he is the greatest living Arminian theologian. Sure, he is the creator of “paleo-orthodoxy.” Sure, he is the general editor of the Ancient Christian Commentary Series (ACC) that is yet to be completed. Sure, I am a Calvinist. Sure, I believe in “progressive orthodoxy.” Sure, I cancelled my subscription to the ACC. But I still admire and respect this man quite a bit. He is a living hero. Why wouldn’t he have come by the Credo House? Surely he has heard of it! After all, he is trying to get Protestants to find greater roots in the early church fathers. He is the living Protestant father of the Patristics. And the Credo House has the Cappadocian bar which enshrines the early Eastern Fathers. The Credo House is his type of place. Surely he does not live in Oklahoma City. “But wait,” I thought. “Maybe he has been here and I did not know it?”

That Tuesday night I decided to do some research. Sure enough, there were enough sources on the internet that said he retired from Drew University and moved back home to Oklahoma! Try as I might, I could not find an email or a phone number. I sent an email to the only address I found, which was returned the moment I sent it with the dreaded “undeliverable message” tag in the subject line. The only address I found connected to Thomas Oden and Oklahoma was a business address that led me to this house just down the street from my parents’ old house.

There I was. As giddy as the first day I went to “Discover Dallas” at Dallas Theological Seminary in ’95 (or was it ’94?) and saw Chuck Swindoll. Chuck came to the table I was sitting at with a friend and said, “These guys look kinda artsy.” My friend and I have fought since that day about who he was calling “artsy.” Due to its possible association with being feminine, I have continually insisted it was him and not me! Anyway, I rang the doorbell. A lady answered within about four seconds, which did not give me the time to consider the “well-I-tried” excuse.

“Can I help you?”

“Yeah, is this Thomas Oden’s house?”

“Yes it is.”

“Is he here?”

“Is he expecting you?”

“Uhhh, no.” (I wanted to say something else that justified my being there, but I could not think of anything so I left it at that)

“May I tell him who is here?”

“Yeah. I am Michael Patton.” (As if that would have any relevance to her or him!)

She left and came back about thirty seconds later. All I could think was that there was no way I was going to get past this step in the Thomas-Oden-Visiting process.

She returned and said, “How do you spell your last name?”

“P-A-T-T-O-N” (I knew that the right spelling of my last name would not contribute anything to my cause, but I obliged anyway.)

Before she left I tried something tricky. I have only used this twice since being in ministry, because there were only two other times I thought it might help me gain ground. One time was when I got pulled over for speeding. I told the cop, “I am in ministry.” Let’s just say I will never do that again and leave it at that. The other was when I was visiting a friend in a psych unit at a hospital. It got me in.

“Oh, and I am in ministry,” I said.

“Oh, ok.”

She came back about fifteen seconds later and said, “Come on in.”

Are you kidding? It worked!

At this point I was not even sure if it was THE Thomas Oden whose house I was invading for no reason. However, the moment I walked in, I knew I was at the right place. The hallway to the kitchen (where I was being led) was lined with books. Theological books! Many books I recognized. Many I did not. The ones I did not recognize were going into a mental list called, “Books I have to have simply because Thomas Oden has them.”

She led me to a seat at the kitchen table. She informed me that Thomas would be out in just a bit. By this time, I realized she was a maid or nurse. She was very kind. We had some small talk. I don’t remember what I said. All I know is that I was doing my best to convince her that I was not a psycho and that she was not irresponsible to let me in.

Finally Thomas Oden came around the corner. His look was both welcoming and a slight bit confused. Who wouldn’t be? I held my Justification Reader in my hand as I introduced myself. Why Justification Reader? For three very intentional reasons: 1) It was a sufficiently obscure Oden work for me to think he would believe I must really know about him to have this book with me. Had I used his more popular Systematic Theology, I might have looked more like a groupie. Why? I don’t know now, but I had it worked out in my mind then (#sleepdeprived). 2) It contained the most hard evidence that I had actually read it, cover to cover. There were underlines in every chapter (unlike others, where the first three chapters are underlined and then nothing for the rest of the book – a telltale sign that I started the book and got bored with it). 3) Just in case I could not think of any reason for being there when he asked the dreaded, “Why are you here?”, at least I could say (as pitiful as it is), “Can you sign my book?”

He immediately invited me into his den. I sat down and we began to talk. He was everything you would hope someone like him would be. He was very articulate. Gracious as can be (as if that is not obvious, since I had not been kicked out of the house yet). I don’t ever even remember having to give an excuse as to why I was there. He just began to ask me about myself. In my nervous condition, I did some name dropping. “Um, yes, after I was a pastor for five years at Chuck Swindoll’s church, I came back home…” They were all clumsy, but he was kind nonetheless. He was excited about me being involved with Swindoll and asked some questions about him. And since I am also a Swindoll stalker, I was able to answer (probably better than Chuck could have himself!). There was a bit of deception that I am not proud of. I made it sound like I was friends with Roger Olson. After all, he is an Arminian and I did have Olson on Converse with Scholars five years ago! Sigh . . . He will probably call Olson and say, “Guess who stopped by the other day? Your friend Michael Patton!” To which Olson will respond, “Who?” D’oh!! Oh well, we are all sinners and Oden knows this. Besides, Olson may know of me from my blog!

We talked for about ten minutes. I became increasingly comfortable. He could obviously tell I was a nervous fan, but he handled me well. I told him all about the Credo House. I think I even said (as I tried to impress him) that he could get free lattes for life! Oh well. I am the President of Credo House Ministries. I can do that kind of stuff. He asked me if I wanted him to sign the book I brought. After asking me what my name was again, he signed his book. Then he walked me back into the kitchen as he went and got a book. He said that he had some homework for me. What? I thought to myself? I am now like…like…a legitimate Oden student? A fleeting thought came to my mind, that he wanted me to come back over and over again to discuss theology. It would be like a personal mentorship or something! We would be best of friends. I might even consider becoming Arminian just for this. Okay, back to reality. . .  He then gave me a book. It was a new copy of his revised Systematic Theology. Wait, a signed copy of his revised Systematic Theology! How cool was that?

As it was time for me to go (he had an appointment he had to get to), I thought seriously about hugging him and saying something stupid like, “May the Lord bless you for the work you do for the kingdom.” I kept revising the wording of my benediction so many times in my mind that, thankfully, it was too late and awkward for me to either try to hug or give the benediction. (I was stuck on the word “kingdom” for some reason.) Who was I to bless him anyway?

I walked out to my car and drove away. I thought about who to call and tell this unbelievable story to. However, the choices were few. Who, besides me, gets this excited over something like this? So I called Tim Kimberley and Carrie Hunter, my two coworkers. We all laughed at how excited this Calvinist was to meet an Arminian statesman. But that is just who I am. Oden is a hero of mine and (oh no, here we go) “May the Lord bless him for the work he has done for the kingdom.”

That was my meeting with Thomas Oden. I will let you all know if he takes advantage of his free lifetime supply of coffee at the Credo House (I hope he does).Similar Posts:

• My Twenty Year Voyage into Theology
• Is Arminianism Cooperative Justification?
• Misinterpreting God? An Example of the Often Confusing Voice of Experience
• "Will God Protect My Kids?" – What Am I Supposed to Say
• Update on family

Normally apologetics is a theological discipline which seeks to defend the faith to those who are outside our belief system. However, my fascination with apologetics is very personal. It starts with me and often ends with me. What do I mean? I suppose I mean that I engage in apologetics very selfishly. I seek to defend the faith to myself. I am continually wrestling with issues of faith and doubt that are spinning webs in my mind. Therefore, whenever I write about a topic that is docked in apologetics bay, it is normally a subject that I am either currently wrestling with or have wrestled with in the past. I often envy those who just believe. Sometimes I wish that I could flip a switch and turn the critical part of my brain off. It would allow me to get more sleep, that is for sure!

Don’t get me wrong. Most of the big issues (what Paul Copan just called the “main things”) are pretty well settled in my thinking. I have the battle scars to prove it. However, there are a lot of things that I am not settled on…secondary issues, mainly. For those things I have yet to wrestle with in a significant way, I usually put a place holder sign on the door entitled ”I will get to you later” or “what he believes.” I have a few people in my life whom I respect and trust so deeply that their view of an issue is enough for me. In such cases I am content with “referred belief.” Why? Because I will never be able to become an expert in everything. As a matter of fact, there will be very few things that I will ever be able to speak about with much personal authority. And there is just enough postmodern blood in me to realize that the human aspiration for exhaustive and authoritative knowledge on any one thing is simply self-deception. None of us are really “experts” on much. None of us are that smart. We never will be. I don’t care how many PhDs someone has, how many articles they have writen, or what school they teach at, the human capacity to truly understand what we are talking about is not anything to write home about. We are finite. However, this does not mean we throw in the intellectual towel. There are things about which we can have a great degree of assurance.

My personal apologetics normally takes a few steps that asks some very basic questions. While I believe that these steps can and should benefit everyone, I know that each of us comes to our faith in very nuanced ways. Your reasons for your faith may not parallel my reasons. But that is okay. Here are the big issues that I start with when my faith is stumbling:

1. Does God exist?
2. Has he communicated to us?
3. What has he said?

The personal avenue that I take (from an intellectual standpoint) when it comes to my Christianity breaks this down and looks at four things:

1. The existence of God
2. The reliability of the New Testament
3. The resurrection of Christ
4. The deity of Christ

1. The Existence of God

A transcendent and personal being is necessary to explain existence as we see it. Something does not come from nothing (ex nihilo nihil fit, or “out of nothing, nothing comes”). Since something exists, a transcendent force is necessary to explain this something. At this point I call God a “force” since we have yet to establish personality. This force must be above and beyond time, space, and matter. If he were not, we would be left with the regression of trying to explain what created the force that created us, ad infinitum. You know, the “If God made everything, what made God?” argument. However, if something exists, there must be an ultimate explanation. Call this force the “unmoved mover,” the “undesigned designer,” or the “uncaused cause.” Whatever one names it, it has to be a se (Latin “of itself”) and transcendent to all the laws of nature so as to avoid the cause and effect relationship. Being outside of time, this force does not need an explanation, but is itself the explanation for all things. For me to deny such a force is completely irrational. A universe such as ours without a creator is as illogical as a four-sided triangle. It just cannot be.

This transcendent force must be personal for two reasons: 1) Personality/consciousness/self-awareness cannot come from non-personality. Being cannot come from non-being. Since mankind has personality/consciousness/self-awareness, that from which we came must share the same attributes (though to an infinitely greater degree). 2) Creation itself demands an act of the will. If this creative force did not have a will (an essential component of personality), creation would never have had a time when it came into existence. In other words, creation would have never been created or it would have always been being created. Those are the only two options. Why? Because there is no cause and effect relationship which, at some point in the finite past, could have compelled a force without a will or personality to create. Why create now rather than ten trillion years ago? Therefore, creation must have been a willful act sometime in the finite past. So we have a creator who is a being whose existence and personhood are both warranted and necessary. This is why we sometimes call God the “Necessary Being.” God, as I am speaking of him now, is not “that which we worship or give ultimate allegiance to,” but the necessary explanation for all of existence. Due to this, God must be one in essence. If his ontology (essential being or “stuff”) consisted of a plurality, then his essence would demand a transcendent explanation for its existence.

There. I have one God. But I don’t yet have the Christian God.

2. Reliability of the New Testament Manuscripts

If God exists, it is perfectly reasonable to assume that God has communicated to his creation. At this point, I look into human history to see if there is any evidence that this creator God has communicated with mankind. Of course, communication neither adds anything to, nor takes anything away from, the necessary existence of this transcendent being. Neither does the way he decides to communicate or how often this communication comes. All I am saying is that if God exists, then we have good reason to look for and, if necessary, excavate this communication.

First, I believe that God’s creation itself communicates information about God. I think there is much knowledge we can gain about God’s personality through creation (God is great, smart, powerful, and organized) and our conscious (God is moral, righteous, and possesses endearing emotions). However, this communication is not very specific and leaves some serious questions unanswered such as, “Why are we here?”, “Is there purpose?”, and “Is there something for us beyond this life?”

Christianity claims that God has communicated in history. Christianity is the only religion whose basic foundation is built on falsifiable historical events that communicate a specific and compelling message. Therefore, when I look across the spectrum of religious claims to “God knowledge,” I don’t find much worth pursuing in other religions. Most other religions claim communication from God coming very obscurely through individuals who have private dreams, angelic encounters, and/or ideas. I am entirely too skeptical to take seriously such subjective claims. They are too easily made up or mistaken and are not testable in any way. However, Christianity has foundational truth claims that are rooted in history. The main events which establish or demolish the Christian faith are claimed to have actually happened in history, in the public eye. Therefore, Christianity not only allows for but demands a historical approach to establish its warrant.

I have used these graphics before, but I think they contain the essence of what I mean.

The central historic events that I look to are the life, death, and resurrection of a man named Jesus from Nazareth. If the stories told about him (most importantly, the story about his resurrection) prove to be true, then I have good reason to believe that God has communicated most directly though him.

But in order to get to Jesus, I have to go through the source documents which tell the Jesus story. We call this the New Testament canon. Now when I am trying to establish my faith, there is no reason to call these documents the “New Testament.” That name carries too much religious baggage. It is best for me to look at these as twenty-seven independent (to some degree) source documents. While theologically, I believe these documents are the inspired, inerrant word of God, all I need right now is for them to be generally reliable historic documents.

The most important of these twenty-seven documents are those we call Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John (the Gospels). We have enough manuscript evidence to date these documents fairly early, at least in the first century and less than a generation from when the Jesus story took place. This, along with the other documents of the New Testament and the writings of other Christians in the first century, allow me to be assured that these documents are close enough to the events they describe to be taken seriously.

3. The Resurrection of Jesus

From an apologetics standpoint, the most significant event to which these documents attest is the resurrection of Jesus. They claim that Jesus had a short ministry which ended when he was executed on a cross. While they speak of many of his miracles and give much attestation to his teaching, they all claim that shortly after his death he rose from the gave. This resurrection vindicated his claims to have communication from God.

Again, this is very significant. If they only claimed that he was a man of profound teaching and performed some miracles, I don’t think I would explore Jesus much further, much less devote my life to him. His resurrection is central to my faith. It not only establishes what he said to be true, but it creates purpose, destiny, and hope. My connection to God does not end with the resurrection, but it starts there and is intrinsically tied to it. All my theological dominoes fall from here.

Now, there are certain things that I would look for and expect if the resurrection of Christ actually took place. I will only name a few for the sake of brevity. I would look for evidence of historicity in the accounts which tell of this event, not the least of which an explicit or implicit claim to historicity (as opposed to myth or parable). Historic verification can come in many ways, but for an event of this magnitude (the omnipotent God sending his Son into the world so that many may believe in him and have eternal life) you would not expect these things to be done in secret. Therefore, I am encouraged to believe more when I see details like specific times, dates, places, and people provided. These details give the events in question falsifiability, by placing the events in historical settings. If everything happened in one man’s living room, a cave, or an unknown city, they would be nearly impossible to verify. But these documents tell of a public ministry, public death, and public resurrection. What I mean by “public” resurrection is that it is stated that Christ’s tomb was empty and that he subsequently appeared to many followers, showing himself alive.

I am also encouraged by the historical nature of the narratives themselves. The four Gospels tell the same story, with some variations. These variations never disturb the main events, but complement each other in many ways. As well, there are many internal marks of historicity in the documents themselves. Some were written to specific groups of people. Some to individuals. Luke wrote his account to an otherwise obscure man named Theophilus. They contain just enough incidental details to make it harder to believe someone (or four someones) made the story up.

As well, there is no discernible profitable motive for someone to make up such a story in the first-century world. The crucified-messiah-rose-from-the-grave story is not the type of event one would fabricate, for it held no appeal for the Jews or Greeks. The Jews could not fathom a messiah hung on a tree, much less that same messiah telling his followers to spread his message to the Greeks. And the furthest thing from the aspirations of the Greeks was the resurrection of the body. It was the last story anyone would make up in that culture.

As well, the Gospels themselves did not identify their writers. If the writers were making this story up, why not fabricate a credible source? Why leave it blank? Falsely attributing a writing to another, more credible, source was on par for the culture of the day (pseudoepigrapha). Who would be more credible than the apostles of Christ? Yet the Gospels remained nameless (though early witnesses support the traditional view of authorship). Simply put, it is very hard to find evidence or rationale, internal or external, for the Jesus story to have been made up.

Finally, if the resurrection happened in the way these documents claim, one would expect there to be a tidal wave of impact. If all we had were these documents, without any immediate and lasting historical consequences, it would be hard to believe that a omnipotent sovereign God had intervened in history through the Jesus story. One would expect the resurrection event to immediately begin to evidence itself through the message being spread. And this is exactly what we find. Starting immediately after the resurrection, the “church” Jesus began through his resurrection has impacted the world in a significant way. People, cities, cultures, and eventually an empire were changed within just a few centuries after this event.

Could there be more evidence for the resurrection of Jesus? Definitely. Jesus could miraculously appear to every individual ever born since then and show them his raised body. However, what we have is exactly what I would expect to have if Christ rose from the grave and then ascended into heaven like the documents say. When I examine alternative explanations for the resurrection, I find myself having to take much greater leaps of faith than a simple belief that God raised Christ from the dead. I have often said that when I begin to doubt the resurrection of Jesus all I have to do is read detractors’ alternative theories.

For this reason, I believe that God has communicated to us through Jesus Christ.

4. The Deity of Jesus

Finally, what did Christ say about God? The first three are significant apologetically to convince me that God not only exists, but has communicated to us most definitely through his “Son.” But now I must establish what that Son has communicated. First and foremost, Jesus communicated about Jesus. In the first century, Jesus became the central figure of the universe. Before this, we did not even know that God had a “Son.” Even now, we stumble to understand exactly what this means. Christ himself said that there is only one God (Mark 12:29). Yet both by his words and his works, Christ claimed equality and oneness with God. The central message of the Christian faith is that Jesus is Messiah, King, Lord, and Savior.

His unique identity came at his miraculous conception as Mary, his mother, was told by an angel that she would bear a son through the Holy Spirit (Matt. 1:18; Luke 1:35). He was given a divine name (Matt. 1:23). Shepherds and wise men worshipped him as a baby (Matt. 2:11). Throughout his childhood, we see that his relationship with God transcended normal human experience. At the inauguration of his ministry, the Father spoke from heaven, informing us of Jesus’ unique identity (Matt. 3:17). Throughout his ministry, he said and did things that evidenced his divine status:

• He forgives sins (Luke 5:23)
• He promises blessings for those who are persecuted because of him (Matt. 5:11)
• He says that he has not come to abolish the Law and Prophets. Could a mere human even suggest that he has? (Matt. 5:17)
• He says that he determines who enters the Kingdom of Heaven (Matt. 7:21–23)
• He teaches others to give up their lives to follow Him (Matt. 16:25)
• He says that he will repay each person for what they have done (Matt. 16:27–28)
• The basis of judgment will be man’s relationship to him (Matt. 25:31–46)
• He speaks of “his angels” (Matt. 13:41; 16:27; 24:31)
• The only thing the rich young ruler lacks for eternal life is to follow him (Matt. 19:16–21)
• We are commanded to love Christ more than our own families (Matt. 10:37)
• Eternal life depends on belief in  Father and in Him (Jn. 17:3)

I agree with C.S. Lewis: these are either the ravings of a madman – or Jesus was God. Even the Holy Spirit does not draw attention to himself, but points to Christ (John 15:26; 16:13–14). At one point, Jesus openly proclaimed himself to be God and the leaders of the day were ready to stone him (John 10:33). The rest of the New Testament is filled with references to Christ’s deity (John 1:1 Jn. 1:1, 18 (not in King James Version), 8:58–59, 10:30–33, 20:28; Acts 20:28; Rom. 9:5; 2 Thes. 1:12; 1 Tim. 3:15–16; Tit. 2:13; 2 Pet. 1:1; Heb. 1:3, 8; Phil. 2:6; Col. 1:15–17, 2:9).

Why did God become man? For one, to communicate God to us (John 1:17; Heb. 1:1-2). What was his message? That he is the center of the universe and that the Uncaused Cause loves us and does not want any of us to be without him. But our sinfulness has separated us from God. For this reason also, God became man and lived a perfect life so that he could be a perfect savior. He is our ransom (Matt. 20:28). He did not come to show us the way to God, but to be the way to God (John 14:6). Eternal life with God is impossible without him. Without Christ, eternal death and judgement are all that await us (John 3:18). But to those who receive (trust in) Christ, he shares his life and glory as he was judged on our behalf (John 1:12). Jesus became man so that we might become children of God.

2 Cor. 5:21
“He made Him who knew no sin to be sin on our behalf, so that we might become the righteousness of God in Him.”

Jesus Christ is the God-man who takes away our sins and promises eternal life to all who trust in him.

Conclusion

Do I think God could be more clear than this? Of course. Could my faith be stronger than it is? Most certainly. And I hope it continues to grow. I have never heard God speak. I have never seen him with my eyes. I have never died and gone to heaven and come back again. I have never spoken in tongues. I have never even experienced a miracle that could not be explained outside of a belief in Jesus. There are times in my life when I think that the world functions just the way it would if God were not real. Often times I get frustrated with God. I doubt his love and his goodness. There are times when I entertain other worldviews. I have said before that if I were not a Christian, I am fairly certain I would remain a theist (believing in God). More specifically, I would probably be a deist since I don’t think any of the other religious options presented in world history are all that impressive or persuasive. When it comes to the big five parademic worldview options, I think deism (the belief that God created everything and has not communicated or intervened since) is the only option besides theism that is logically possible. As best I can tell, atheism, pantheism, and panentheism are all formally absurd. This means that they are not only less likely, but that they are logically impossible.

Again, this is my trek when I have my doubts. The points I provided above stabilize me. I am not saying they are going to stabilize you in the same way. These four points keep my faith anchored. There is a God. He has communicated. Jesus rose from the dead, demonstrating the truthfulness of his claims. And Jesus is God incarnate (“in the flesh”) who lived a perfect life, making life with God possible to all who put their trust in him.

I could believe more. My faith is not perfect. However, when my faith is challenged, these intellectual benchmarks serve as a powerful  immunity to doubt and disbelief. I could believe more. I hope each day that I believe more. Only in eternity will I have my faith fully vindicated. Only in eternity will my faith be perfect. But until then, these four points are sufficient for me not only to be a Christian, but to sacrifice every moment in service to Jesus.Similar Posts:

• Why is There Something Rather than Nothing? The Only Six Options
• Why is there Something Rather than Nothing?
• Ten Arguments for the Existence of God
• 10 Arguments for God's Existence
• The Danger of Inerrancy

Let me leave any accolades aside (as it might seem self-serving). Besides, as the old saying goes, nothing matters before the word “but” so I will spare you of having to skim through all that stuff. There are a few things that I would like to encourage you about. Please take this as iron sharpening iron as I expose what I see to be the pitfalls, Achilles heels, and weaknesses about which I think you need to be aware.

Arrogance

You have been told on more than one occasion, by people you respect very much, that you are arrogant. And you know what, you may be too arrogant to consider whether or not it is true. Here are some things to think about concerning arrogance:

First, you write and/or teach about theology every day. Every day. I know that this might seem like a good thing and in many contexts it truly is. However, what you must continually ask yourself is Who do you think you are? Do you really think you have that much to say? From teaching three nights a week (and many times on Sunday), to blogging, to new theology courses and Boot Camps, to Credo Clips, to book writing. And then there is this blog. You pride yourself that your blog is a “content” blog. However, maybe others don’t have content blogs because they are humble enough to respect the subject. They point to others, don’t you point to yourself? Again, I ask, do you really have that much to say? That much to say about God? Do you have that many good ideas that can’t wait? What ever happened to the discipline of silence?

Second, let me ask you a question: How many things have you started? When you were fifteen, you started Blade Runners, a lawn mowing business. How long did that last? When you were twenty-one you started Shape Fitness. Again, how long? Then there was Areopagus for Christ, All-American Bible Study, the DTS E-Team, Adopt-a-Prisoner, and countless other dreams and visions that are no longer around. Of course, you have been in your current ministry for over a decade now, but maybe that is because it worked, not because it was right.

Third (and please don’t take this the wrong way), who do you think you are being in ministry? Do you really think that you are qualified? Doesn’t it take a pretty large head to do what you do the way that you do it? Seminary graduation does not a pastor make. You mother told you many times that you were not tender or sensitive enough to be in ministry. Yet you plunged forward. Your wife continually tells you that you are too harsh (at least with her and the kids). Does harshness and ministry have anything to do with each other? Though you have tried to distance yourself from many of your father’s failings, harshness is an apple that did not fall far from the tree.

Transparency

I know that you value transparency in others. And I know you well enough to know that you second guess whether your transparency is always a good thing. Let me give two examples about how your transparency may be having a negative effect:

First, concerning your recent struggles with depression and doubt: I appreciate you being open and candid about such things, but there is a reason why many mature believers don’t share such things (at least not in such abundance as you). These things can disturb the faith of otherwise stable people. I think that you could be normalizing something that should not be normalized. You have talked about how emotionally stable you used to be before you turned 35. Now that you are nearing 40 you say that you are emotionally volatile. I understand and sympathize with depression and fatigue. However, are not those of us in Christ supposed to becoming more and more like him? Is not the joy and peace that passes understanding supposed to characterize our lives more today than they did yesterday? Are you not, with these bouts of depression and doubt, going in the opposite direction? And to add to the problem, you put it up on a billboard, normalizing (or worse, canonizing) something that may not need to find such support. I know you think that you help people when you are more “see though”, but could it not be that you are hurting more than you are helping? At least it is something to consider.

Second, I have read every blog post you have ever written. I have read your book. I have been though every course and every class you have ever taught. Obviously, I am a follower of Michael Patton. I appreciate the pain that you and your family have been though and are going through. I hurt along with you. Your sister’s suicide and your mom’s paralysis are indeed terrible. But I am starting to get the feeling that you wear these things like a badge of spirituality. Be careful with this. People do care about you and what you are going through, but your continual referral to these events can make you sound like you have no other platform upon which to speak. You may need to move on. “Moses my servant is dead . . . now you be strong and courageous and move on.” Just temper the use of personal sufferings in your teaching. It may be coming across as self-serving. In fact, maybe you should be humble enough not to talk about them unless absolutely necessary. Again, just something to think about. (But bringing them up just now was a bit self-defeating for my advise and illustrative of the problem!) As a matter of fact, this entire “open letter” seems to illustrate some of the things I have been saying, doesn’t it?

I have many other things about which to speak to you, but I will let you dwell on these for now.Similar Posts:

• A Grief Letter to My Sister Angie (1969-2004)
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I am getting ahead of myself.

The fear of future events often scares me. In my mind, that which may come upon me is often too much to handle. How would I respond if such-and-such a situation were to occur? How would I respond if that happened to me? I remember the Terri Schiavo incident which, in 2005, held the country’s interest so intensely. For many of us, not only did it create a sense of sorrow, but also of personal struggle, as we wondered how long we could live in such a horrific situation. I remember specifically thinking about how terrible it was. I seriously could not think of a worse situation. The referred suffering of others (in this case, her parents’ suffering) is often too much to bear. You know, the suffering we experience as we look at another’s situation. The loss of a child. Chronic pain. A fearful situation. All of these qualify. With Terry Schiavo, if the pain I felt was so severe, how much more so her parents, who had to live with her condition for years? I thought the only thing that could be worse was if she was aware of her condition, fighting to free herself.

In truth, there are millions of things others go through, which I would think too hard for me to handle. From people banding together to take down a terrorist-controlled airplane, to being without a job for months or years, the prospect of such challenges is hard to fathom. As well, with world news and the internet, we are (over)exposed to so many experiences. These drain us of our energy, spiritual and mental. They cause us to cry out to God wondering where the world is going. It seems like every day for the last ten years I have heard at least one person say, “What is this world coming to?”

However, there are two things I try to keep in mind when soaking in the world’s trouble, pain, and suffering: 1) The world is not worse or more evil than it was before. There are not more troubles today than there ever were before. We are just saturated with more knowledge of these troubles, because of how quickly-disseminated and plentiful information is today. 2) It is not as bad as it seems. Seeing as how I have already written on number 1, let me talk about 2 for a moment.

I don’t mean to undermine the severity of people’s difficult situations (including my own), but I am realizing more and more that the prospect of suffering or troubling situations is quite deceptive. As I said, I could not imagine how my faith would hold up to a situation like that of Terry Schiavo. However, a similar situation occurred in 2006 with my mother. Even worse, she is aware of her situation. Her aneurysm and stroke have left her paralyzed in body and mind, but not enough to make her oblivious. Here I am five years later, living through my nightmare, yet able to bear it. The Lord often gives us the strength we need only when we need it, not at the mere prospect of needing it.

Okay, back to my story…

I had been counseling a couple in a troubled marriage. Don’t get me wrong; I am not too good at counseling couples’ marriages. However, I did marry these two and, as is often the case with those I marry, they called on me as their marriage turned sour. Unfortunately, their marriage did not make it. We tried, but reconciliation was not achieved. The gentleman involved was heartbroken, discouraged, and extremely depressed. Living in his new home (with one bed and one couch), he called a friend of mine, who then called me. “Michael, you need to get over to Billy’s [not his real name] house.” “Why?” I responded. “He is not doing well,” he said. “What happened?” I asked. “He is at his house crying - wailing. . . and Michael, he has a gun. He says he is going to kill himself.”

Please don’t judge me. I have heard it all since that day. “You should have called the police!” “You should have thought about your family.” “You should not have gone over there.” But, as scared as I was, I decided, after a brief call to the guy, to go to his house and see if I could at least disarm him.

Now, to connect this to the subject of my post, many things went through my mind. One other time I have had to disarm someone who was threatening suicide. The feelings of fear and dread were plenty. “I may very well die.” “People who are like this (emotionally unstable with a gun) are not to be messed with.” I was as scared as I had ever been. The prospects of dying at the hands of someone out of control were beyond difficult to face. But at the time, I thought I might be the only one who could take the gun from him.

I pulled up to his house and timidly walked in the door. There he was, pacing back and forth, banging his head on the wall (literally). My first thought was that he was on some serious drugs. My second thought was my main goal: get the gun. I began to talk to him. Erratic is the best way to describe what he was saying and doing. Due to his mental state at this time, conversation was not really productive. He would leave the room and then come back. Sit and then stand. Talk and then scream. After about ten minutes, he went into the kitchen. I heard some crashing, screams, and banging, then he slowly walked back into the living room holding the gun. It was a nine millimeter. I could not tell if it was loaded, but he was carrying it with his hand on the trigger. Then he started playing with the chamber in front of me. Finally, I said, “Give me the gun,” in as calm and unalarmed a voice as I could muster. He did not respond; he just kept messing with it. “Give me the gun!” I repeated. Again and again I requested he hand it over to me. I was sitting on the couch; he was standing right in front of me. Finally, something began to turn…in a good way, I thought. He released the clip (the part that holds all the bullets). It fell to the ground. He picked it up and gave it to me. I was very relieved. I quickly put it out of reach and asked for the gun again. He then cleared the chamber, releasing the final bullet. It fell to the ground at his feet. I thought about quickly picking it up, but he was too fast. He then picked it up, put it back in the chamber, and BAMMM!

My ears were instantly ringing. However, to my surprise, I was still calm. I took the gun away from him and examined the bullet hole deep in the floor right by my feet. I think he was as surprised as I was that he had just fired the gun. He looked at me and said, “I am sorry. I don’t know why I did that.” And he ran into his room. I sat there for a moment and thought about what to do next. I got the gun. Should I leave?  I thought to myself. Quickly, however, I found him and continued the conversation, attempting to help him trust in the Lord. Today he is much stronger and is moving on with his life, There have been no more incidents.

As I have thought about this event over the last few months, I have found one thing that stands out more than any other with regard to my own expectations (and let me speak selfishly about myself here): I was not scared. When it came down to it, and the gun was being waved around, I had confidence. Don’t get me wrong; I believe the Lord was ultimately responsible for my ability to stay composed in this dangerous situation, but I did not feel his presence. I did not see an angel behind the guy. I did not have any “spiritual sixth sense” at all. It was intuition. The bullet struck eighteen inches from my feet and I stood up and quickly grabbed the gun. But I was not scared. Startled? Yes. Terrified as I was when I imagined, during the drive over, what could happen? No.

To this day, I don’t know if what I did was the best thing for me and my family, but it did reiterate to me a valuable lesson: the prospect of the thing feared is almost always much worse than the thing itself. Again, I think of all the things people, Christian or not, go through every day. I think about how difficult life can be. I begin to fall apart inside due to what others have to suffer. However, I am realizing more and more the resilience people have to go through hard things and actually make it. I believe we are to suffer with people’s pains and trials, be there for them, and do whatever we can to help bear their burdens. But when concern for another turns into despair about life, this is when we have failed to trust in the One who has all things in his hands, who causes the rain to fall (in a good sense) on the righteous and unrighteous alike. He has created people with the ability to make it. While the situation with my mother seemed unbearable, I am bearing it. While the fear of having a gun waved in my face was severe, when the time came, right or wrong, I was composed. It is only when we are controlled by the prospect of something that we are defeated.Similar Posts:

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• “Memorize these Two Verses and Call Me in the Morning” or Dealing with Doubt – Part 2
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“How can you preach truth when it does not even help you get out of bed?”

“You talk about a “deeper” and “truer” belief in Christ. Boy, a lot of good it does you.”

“You are going to try to teach people about God and his goodness when you hang your head in sadness. What is up with that?”

“How negative can your thoughts get before you are a complete hypocrite?”

Depressed people in ministry. While my “episodes” are nothing like the “great crash of ’10,” they still come and go. And I am in ministry. As I said in the first post of this series, I am learning to deal with it. I suppose the question is this: How do I continue to admonish people in truth, rebuke unfaithfulness, encourage hope, and preach the peace of God while thoughts of hopelessness win battles in my mind?

I remember after going through my depression last year, I actually changed a sermon that I was going to preach because I felt so guilty about my inability to fulfill its admonishment in my own life. What was the topic I was going to teach on? Thankfulness. I tried and tried for two months to change my attitude, but I could not. So I just changed the topic.

(I am no expert in depression and how to overcome it, mind you, but I hope these help you see where I am today.)

The issue is not simply, “How do you preach when you are depressed?” It is much broader. These questions might be better stated as, “How do we encourage goodness when we are bad? How do we preach the truth that we don’t practice? How do we lift people out of the mire in which we are currently residing? Isn’t there something about the “blind leading the blind” in the Bible?”

There are two things I try to remember:

1. Don’t let your failures manipulate your stand.

Remember the fall of David? Yeah, the Bathsheba thing. Not good. Sexual sin and murder. Remember the spiral downward in David’s life from that time on? Remember his family? Talk about dysfunctional! The crazy events of 2 Sam. 13 were beyond anything I have ever heard. His son Amnon loving his half sister Tamar, raping her, then hating her. When King David heard of this, the text says, “He was furious” (2 Sam. 13:21). That is it. He was mad. He did not do anything to Amnon. He was just mad. This unquenched anger caused Absalom, his other son, to take matters into his own hand and kill Amnon himself. And we all know how that story goes (estranged son, divided kingdom, third dead son).

Why didn’t David do anything? Well, I don’t mean to read into the text (warning: reading into the text forthcoming), but it would seem that these events are meant to teach us that we often have the tendency to look past, fail to encourage, and refrain from rebuke in those areas in which we have failed ourselves. I am sure David had these thoughts run through is mind:

“Who am I to rebuke Amnon after what I did?”

“I don’t have a leg to stand on here. Sure, he slept with his sister, but I killed the husband of the woman I slept with.”

“I understand his issues. I empathize with him. I am just keeping my hand over my mouth here. We will call it grace.”

However, this is not how it should have been handled. Right and wrong are still right and wrong, even if he had failed and continue to fail in living up to the standards of truth.

When we fail in an area like finding joy in the Lord, this does not mean that we cannot still encourage people in righteousness. It will certainly temper our presentation and the way in which we admonish, but we are not relieved of our responsibilities to stand for the truth. Sometimes, being in the mire ourselves can add a bit of encouragement to our ministry. David did Amnon no favors by staying silent about his sin.

2. God only uses sinners to encourage sinners.

Another thing I realize is that if I wait for my life to be perfect, I will never preach. And before you raise your nose too high, let me let you in on a little secret: neither will you. God only uses sinners. Let’s face it – we are all he has to work with. Now, I understand that there are some legitimate times when those of us in ministry do need to keep our mouths shut. In more extreme cases, we may have to take ourselves out of a position of authority due to our failures. However, this does not mean that we don’t continue to stand up for the truth. This does not mean that we quit helping people out of the mire.

I don’t know that I will ever feel qualified to preach, teach, or rebuke. But my call is not to feel qualified. If the standard is Christ, none of us should ever feel qualified because none of us will ever be qualified. Sure, I can manipulate my failures, give excuses for my lack of joy, and do everything I can to make my sin look better so that I feel better, but that is just lowering the standard. It’s just smoke and mirrors. We need to be more like Martin Luther, who said, “Be a sinner. Sin boldly.” In other words, don’t make excuses or hide your sinfulness. If you do, then you just disqualify yourself from grace, which thrives only on our recognition of our sins. Bold sinning requires our continual presence in the circle of grace before the throne of God. And you know what? That is where I want to preach from. Those are the people God uses.

My adequacy is in him, not my ability to live up to his standard every moment. My clothes are his. His righteousness is mine. Therefore, when I am sad and depressed, the greatest thing I can do is continue to point people to a better place, even if I have to tell them that I hope to follow later. When I feel disqualified, I realize that we are all disqualified if our qualification is not in Him.

Series title: Dealing with depression #2.Similar Posts:

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Some of you remember that back in April, I went through a serious fall emotionally. It is what some people call “depression.” I wrote about it while fractured. In short, my mind broke. I don’t know how else to put it.  There was a black hole that suddenly showed up in my brain that sucked all hope, purpose, and sanity out of me. One minute I was fine, the next minute I crashed.

This experience has come to define my life as much as any other thing I can think of. My daily emotional well-being now has a referent point, a bar if you will. “At least I am not ‘there,’” I often tell myself. Now, things could always be worse.

The other day, I took my son, Will, to his basketball game. I watched his game and enjoyed it as every father does. After we got home, we sat on the couch together and talked. It was one of those conversations about nothing. But something happened during this conversation that made me to further realize that I was not as “recovered” as I thought I was. While I talked with Will I was suddenly filled with a sense of happiness that I had forgotten about. I don’t know how to describe it. It was like I could suddenly, just for a brief moment, smell again. I don’t know what it is like to be without a sense of smell, but I can imagine. I have a friend in California who suffered a blow to the head last September. Since then, he has not been able to smell. With this, he has lost his ability to taste and enjoy food. He may soon forget, in an experientially way, what it is like to enjoy life in such a way. But in this moment with Will, an aroma passed by my nose and I remembered how joyful life could be. I also realized the residue of depression.

It took six weeks for me to “come out” of the black hole last Spring. Once the “cloud” departed, I proclaimed victory. I even wrote about this victory. I celebrated. I waxed eloquent on the perils of depression. I gave council to those who were depressed. I was still alive! However, I did not realize the lingering effects of the injury for many moons.

Four Stages of Emotional Wellness

Please note, that I am not a professional. I am neither a psychologist nor a psychiatrist. I don’t think I even qualify to be called a Christian counselor, though I have taken the required courses at seminary (which gives me just enough information to be dangerous!). These stages are representative of my “journey” through depression. So take it for what it is worth.

There seems to be four stages that one can find themselves in emotionally:

1. Happiness/Joy

Find joy in just about everything. Able to enjoy life with little effort. Many hopeful plans for the future with contentment in the present.

You are yourself here.

2. Stable

Content with life and find joy in some things. Takes more effort to enjoy life. Plans for the future are present, but not so hopeful.

You are potentially yourself.

3. Sadness/Depression

Frustrated with life. Very hard to find joy. Downcast and pessimistic. Plans for the future may be present, but tainted by sadness and hopelessness.

You are losing yourself.

4. Despair

No hope or joy in anything. Despair for the present and future. Fear of living and fear of dying. Unable to access reality.

You are no longer yourself.

You all know how much I like charts, so here is one to boot.

Please understand: I don’t want to minimize the line between the ”Sad/Depressed” stage and the “Despair” stage. It is night and day. I think we can stay in the “Sad/Depressed” stage for a time. But the utter hopelessness and hell of the despair stage cannot last for it will eventually take one’s life one way or another. I think most people visit each of these other stages from time to time, but there is something completely different when you pass into the darkness of despair. 

For six weeks, on and off, I was in this despair stage. That is why when I came above the line of despair, I felt like the depression was over. I felt back to “normal.” However my definition of normal was tainted do to the exposure to the “dark side.” Anything was more normal than what I was experiencing there. Therefore, I felt “normal.”

But here is where I think I have gone over the years:

I think many factors led to my emotional fall. Maybe overconfidence. Maybe wrong decisions. I don’t know. But I also believe very much that God wanted me to go through this. I still have not worked out theologically how I say that it was God’s will for me to lose my joy and enter into despair, but I do think that I am a better person because of it. I could not have lasted long in that despair stage. I don’t know if I would have ever killed myself, but the anti-reality matrix would have taken my life one way or another.

However, recounting that terrible time is not my purpose here. My purpose is to chronicle my journey and come to terms with my “recovery.” The sense of emotional smell I encountered the other day demonstrated that I was not fully recovered. I am not sad or depressed in most situations. I can go there, but it is situational and I can get myself out. However, my desire is to reclaim joy, optimism, and hope. I want that to once again be my default composure. I want to be able to smell all the time.

All of this to say that I realize that while I am in remission from depression and despair, I have yet to recover. It lingers. “Rejoice always” is a command in the Scripture that I cannot find the ability to obey. I am only at the place where I can ”rejoice sometimes and in accommodating situations.”Similar Posts:

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Really quick: many people have expressed concern for me due to my last post on “leaving” Christ. Some of you know how I roll and know that this is just the way I often blog. I appreciate so many of your emails and calls of concern. You all are great. Please know that when I blog, I will often talk about things that may suggest a shipwreck of faith due to the confessions involved. I know I take a risk when I put myself out there in such a way. But please understand that it is just me. Yes, those posts are expressive of my life and thoughts, but they are often only from the dark places. Rest assured that the light places are there too.

I am sorry if my posts sometimes miscommunicate and sound a alarms that I don’t intend. I try to be careful and intentional with such things. I pray that this type of transparency is helpful for all of us to be real. I know how hard and how risky it can be.

Our God is strong my friends. There is nothing I love more than doing what I do and serving my Lord. I think you need to know that.Similar Posts:

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“Yet I hold this against you: You have forsaken the love you had at first.” (Rev. 2:4)

Chilling. Even more chilling when you come to the realization that Christ is talking to you.

I used to have more of an innocence to my faith. Belief was easy and simple. The Lord said it, I believe it, that settles it. Well, that is not the best way to put it since that has come to be known as an expression of dogmatic faith more than simple faith. However, the best way I can put it is that there were certain things that I did for the Lord with more willingness and more purity than I do now. I feel as if I have replaced one aspect of my spirituality for another. I keep the gas in the car, but am less concerned about the oil.

I got a phone call from someone the other day. I knew who it was. Keeping things confidential, let’s just say that he was someone who is in great emotional need. He calls all the time. The world would call him a “basketcase.” His condition, as many would see it, is perpetual and it probably will not change. He is worried, riddled with anxiety, most of the time without hope, and always on the pseudo-verge of suicide. When the phone rang, I paused for a moment, thought about answering, and then pushed “reject.” I was too busy with nothing at all.  What would have been an exciting God appointed phone call for me many years ago is now a guilt producing annoyance.

See ya Jesus. I’m out of here.

That is just one illustration. But there are a lot more. How do you leave your first love? What is the process? Where was the fork in the road? When did I let the phone call from Christ ring to long?

Bitterness? Maybe. When Angie, my sister, died on Jan. 4th six years ago, I had a bastion of faith. Unshaken and, between you and me, proud of it. Oh, maybe not proud of it in a sinful way, but proud that my faith was still as strong as ever. I did not question God. Even considering the terrible events that led to her suicide and my involvement in them, I said to myself, “Though he slay me, yet will I trust in him.” And I really did mean it. However, at the time, I did not realize the very small oil leak that it produced. Maybe it was the yeast of bitterness that was born. Either way, what I should have said was this: “Though he slay me, yet will I follow him.” Trust was replaced by a bitter follow. Yes, I was looking for his footprints, but my steps of joy were being replaced with steps of bitterness.

Goodbye Jesus. I believe but not like I used to.

Fear? Maybe. After my mother’s aneurysm and stroke in 2006, I began to realize I was not a rock. I began to realize I was a was a little off course. I was trepid in my steps. I first recognized my Parkinson’s of the soul a few months later. I was in a grocery store alone when I got a phone call from some number I did not know. I answered it: “Hello.” “Is this Katelynn’s dad?,” came the voice of a young girl on the other end. That is all it took. Some young voice calling me asking me if I was the father of my daughter. I broke. My legs fell out from under me and I literally could not stand. I knew something bad had happened to Katelynn. After all, why else would someone call my phone and ask if I was her dad? Can you connect the dots? Probably not. For you are only being reasonable. A phone call like this is meaningless. Who cares? It’s a friend of Katelynn asking to talk to her. That is what anyone else would think. And, indeed, that is what it was. But for me, it was a revelation of the adjustment in flight that I did not notice so long ago, but now has put me hundreds of miles off course. I am now just waiting in fear for the next bad thing. 

Leave the lights on Jesus. I am going out.

Since then, my belief has become less innocent. I have begun to question things that I would never question. I manipulate the words of the Lord and filter them through my bitterness and fear. I don’t answer the phone of people in need because I don’t believe that God is going to do anything. I walk with shaky hands because I don’t know what is around the corner and I don’t really trust him. Most of all, I justify all these things, thinking somewhere in the back of my mind, “It’s okay. I deserve this.”

Not the “big things.” No, never. I believe more than ever in truth, doctrine, and fighting for people’s minds. We must. I still hate the “practice the Nicolaitans” just like Jesus. But I tremble nonetheless. Revelation 2:1-4 scares me. Look at those guys: “I know your deeds,” Jesus says.  ”I know your hard work and your perseverance. I know that you cannot tolerate wicked people, that you have tested those who claim to be apostles but are not, and have found them false.  You have persevered and have endured hardships for my name, and have not grown weary.” Me, me, me. But why the next verse? “You have left your first love.” Isn’t persevering and enduring hardships in Christ’s name without growing weary the very definition of being by Christ’s side? I guess not.

Be back later Jesus.

I argue with the Lord and excuse myself all the time. I did not used to. I guess I am just smarter than he is now. Don’t get me wrong: I still believe in him a great deal, but I just don’t trust him like I used to.

“Prayer changes things.” Well, not really. You are going to do what you want in the end.

“I will take care of you.” Yeah, but I don’t really like your definition of “take care.”

“Have this attitude and it will be better.” Well, no one really does, so I am not going to either. I’ll be alright.

“Satan wants to shift you like wheat.” I have enough problems without concerning myself with Satan.

“Read your Bible.” I already have so many times.

“Take care of the temple of your body.” Yeah…but… aren’t you being a bit legalistic there?

“Answer the phone call of my child who is in need.” He is always in need and my words don’t do anything.

“Trust me with your kids.” Like I did with my mom and sister?

It is not outright denials of God’s word. I can still preach on these things with great conviction. I still believe in these things, I just don’t trust them like I used to. I got off course. I left my first love. Faith is so simple, but I have made it complex due to bitterness. Revival only lasts for a moment when it comes. For the last few years, I have moved out of Jesus’ house, but I check in from time to time. It is time for me to move back in.

Lord, return me to that simple faith. I am sorry for believing in you for the big things, but manipulating in the “small” things. You are worthy of my trust. So here is my hope for this next year Lord. I will begin to see all things as a divine appointment. I will again begin to live a fully converted life. I find no joy in leaving you.Similar Posts:

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