By the Rev. Jon Rieley-Goddard

Dear friends,

    I was talking with a colleague in ministry the other day, and the conversation came around to biblical authority, a subject of great concern and high tension for Presbyterians. He said two things that were of note, one that I knew and one that I didn’t.

    He said, first off, that he was in the camp that saw the Bible as having no flaws or inconsistencies. The second thing that he said, that he used his reason to interpret the Word and to decide on moral and spiritual questions, was what surprised me. And pleased me. And gave me an insight into why we could be in relationship around the well-nigh unsolvable issues of our day and time.

    I do that, too. I bring my reason, and my experience, to bear on moral and spiritual decision-making. The experts have names for this, and it is also labeled as flawed and to be avoided, and just about everyone still does it.

    A third thing that my colleague said was that he was at peace with the parts of the Word of God that did not yet make sense to him, because of the history of God’s opening to him, over time, more and more understanding.

    I do that, too.

***

    I’ve been struggling lately with this question of how and how much of my own reason and experience should I bring to bear on the questions before me of a moral and spiritual nature. There is no question that I do this, only the question of rightness and the question of how much, and the question of how-to. I don’t go so far as to craft a DIY (do it yourself) theology, but I do have rocks in the foundation of my personal theology that I picked up myself, and that I fancy that God put in my path so I could stumble over them, kick them and curse them, hopping about on one leg, then seeing that I could go further and pick up the once-accursed rock and place it in the foundation that I was working on.

    As often as not, I would find that the rock that I had stumbled upon seemed made for the spot in my theological foundation that needed shoring up.

***

    The problem is not in the rocks but in how I think and feel about them.

    The technical term is discernment.

    My grandfather on my mother’s side would tell the story, I’m told, that one time when he was a young man, staying at another’s house for the night, that a woman – clearly an apparition (he was clear about this) – appeared at the foot of his bed in the early morning time just after sunrise. In other words, my grandfather claimed that he saw a ghost.

    My father would tell me that sometimes when he was in the workshop out behind the house, in the friendly quiet of that space that was his own, that he would sometimes fancy that his Aunt Martha was somehow present. In other words, my father could feel the presence of what we would call ghosts.

    And then there is me.

    One night, in the dark and frightening time before I came to a full understanding of the call that God was giving me, I awoke in an instant and bolted up in my bed. I had been dreaming that Jesus was standing at the foot of my bed, the one that I was in. I was terrified. This experience, coupled with others of a similar nature, propelled me into fundamental life changes that issued in my attending seminary and seeking ordination.

***

    What seemed so clear at the time didn’t seem clear at all later when I began to reflect on these signs and wonders that I had acted upon. What if I had simply seen my own reflection in the full-length mirror on the bedroom door at the foot of the bed?

    After musing on these questions for a long time, I have come to believe that whether I saw Jesus, dreamed Jesus, or simply saw myself in the mirror, that the outcomes of this powerful experience were good for me, and I fancy for others, too. One thing that I do know is that God was calling me to make big changes and to embrace a life of service in Christ’s name that I had always believed in.

    He was standing there, in silence and in love, his arms slightly out from his body, palms up, in welcome and in invitation.

    The image is sharp in my mind, and the image of that doorway is the same image that I would see in my mind if I tried to remember what that doorway actually looked like. Whether I conjured up the image, had too much rich food before retiring for the night, or was stretched thin by anxiety and anger over the course of my life and relationships, the outcome is this. God bid me get up, prepare, and go, and I did, in spite of the increased anxiety that my resolution to change my life caused me. I swore that I would go to seminary if I had to crawl, and sometimes it seemed like I would have to. I have never wanted anything more than I wanted to answer the call I was hearing from God.
No person could ever take that away from me, and no person has tried harder that I have myself to disprove my original understanding and acceptance of these experiences.

***

    I’m not a very good person, and I don’t live up to more than a modicum of the potential that God has given me, and I don’t have much to point to that I can be proud of. My kindness is more than matched by my inner dark places, and I don’t say what I think or feel as often as I could or should.

    That is certainly one way that I could describe myself. And here is another.
God loves me, and calls me, and guides me on the way. God gives me good things, and delights in me, and wants me to be even more impish and fun than I already am. God rejoices that I stumbled through the dark time to the light, and God rejoices that I have taken the gifts that God so freely gave me and have made a foundation to rebuild my life on. God knows my joys and my sorrows, and witnesses, from the intimate position of one indwelling, my failures and my accommodations. And still loves me. Sometimes we still talk in the middle of the night when my defenses are asleep and I am wide open to the holy.

***

    Is the Bible true? Yes. Is God true? You bet. Is my colleague correct in saying that the Word is without error or inconsistency? He just might be onto something important that I already know with my feet, judging from where I go and how I get there. We’re all waiting on the Lord.

    Could I be a better person? The sharper question is whether it is good and desirable to be good, or good enough. My life in God has led me to believe that God wants persons who are good enough to keep growing, risking, and stumbling. I know, too, that perfection is a goal, and pitfall, for me and a reality that God has reserved for Jesus, our Christ. It is so much better that he gets to be the perfect one, because he knows what to do with that set of gifts and the expectations and responsibilities that go with perfection.

***

    I didn’t know where I would end up when I started to type this letter to you, and now I know. And this way of doing and being, in short, is how I seek to live my life – free, easy, alert ... and surprised at my thoughts and feelings.

    Blessings and peace!