The Bible in 2 Sentences

lydiaLast August on our family beach trip, I had a moment.  My daughter was playing with me on the bed, and she started paging through the Bible.  She was absorbed in her project, and, as most two year olds do, she was providing a running narrative of every thought that ran through her head.  As she was playing, she began ‘reading’ the Bible.

Page after page, she was reading the same two sentences over and over…

But I’m scared!
You must trust the Lord.

Over and over, page after page, the same two sentences.  She probably said it twenty times. But I’m scared! You must trust the Lord… But I’m scared! You must trust the Lord… But I’m scared! You must trust the Lord… scared… trust… scared… trust.  But.. trust.  

And that’s when it hit me.  This is the Bible, in it’s most simplistic form.  Yes- there are many theological truths missing from these two statements.  True- there is no Jesus there.  But implicit in these two statements is the crux of my daily walk with God.  The essential struggle between my doubts and God’s goodness.  My stubborn need to see the future, to know the way out, and God’s good plan for my life.

Now.  Before you pop a halo on my child and begin to think about how ‘the kingdom ofno-no-noah heaven belongs to such as these,’ know that she was basically quoting the monkey from her favorite book No, No Noah.  God works in mysterious ways.  And I have read her that book approximately 3,942 times.

However.  As I continue to read scripture, I am realizing the full extent to which these two sentences capture the essence of mankind’s story arc with God.  The Garden.  Abraham and Sarah.  The 40 Years in the Desert.  The Judges. Ruth.  The Prophets.  Esther. And that’s just the Old Testament.

In Joshua chapter 1, God tells Joshua to be strong and courageous four times in a row.  The future is unclear.  Real, bodily harm is a distinct possibility.  There is much room for fear and anxiety, and yet God’s message is clear.  You must trust the Lord.

Fear versus trust is hands down one of the most dominant themes of my life.  It feels as if I slam into this choice countless times per day.  Just this morning, I sent my husband out at 7 AM to stand in line to register our 3 year old for preschool.  My fear of not getting my daughter into the program our family felt like was best for us was undermining my trust in God’s good plan for us.

She got in.

I have the best husband on the planet.

God is good.

But even if she hadn’t gotten a spot at the school, is God not still good?  I think a lot of times we struggle with seeing God as a bearded fairy godmother- one primarily consumed with making sure life is easy and light.  Yet, do we not grow more as humans when faced with adversity?  When challenged to confront our ideas for what we want and then intentionally step outside the box?

Each day, over and over, I live out the liturgy of my daughter’s scripture reading…

But I’m scared!
You must trust the Lord.

Are you a real person? Am I? What about them? 

True fact. I have birthed two babies in the last five years. Which means, in the last five years I have gained and lost 50 pounds. Twice. I have been all the sizes. All of them. I may never have been skinny, but I have certainly been fat.

My friend, who has been in the same situation, remarked yesterday that she was shocked at how differently people treat her now that she has lost the baby weight as opposed to before. She recently took a flight for a work related trip. She couldn’t believe how different way she was treated this time than she was a few months – and several pounds – ago. 

I have had the same experience. When I weighed more, I received less eye contact. People didn’t hold the door open for me or smile for me nearly as much. It could be argued that this was just my perception, since I felt more insecure about myself, but the difference is so marked that I am convinced it goes beyond that. 

And what’s more, I am convinced that this is not just an experience of people that struggle with weight. Watching and listening to the national discourse over the last few months, I truly believe that different people have different experience in this world. And let me say right now that this is not a political blog. I’m not pushing a feminist or leftist worldview here. However, I do want to make an appeal to my fellow brothers and sisters in Christ. This is not right.

I don’t care how you feel about federal funding, immigration, abortion, politics. (Or perhaps I do, but not in this blog). What I do care about is how we as Christ’s image bearers treat our fellow man. 

By this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you love one another. 

John 13:35

The story of the New Testament is one of a struggle for identity in the new church. There was a constant debate going on about who is on the inside and who was on the outside. Jews versus Gentiles. Circumcised versus uncircumcised. The rights of women. Who is allowed at the Lord’s supper. Which widows and orphans are allowed support by the church. And again and again the same answer prevailed. All are welcome. We are all sinners, all redeemed by grace. Through the blood of Christ, we all are equal.

It is the habit of our fallen nature to discriminate. To decide who is like us, who is acceptable, who is worthy of notice, of compassion, of kindness. But Jesus made a business of reaching out to those not universally accepted. The Gentile, the adulterous, the woman, the child, the tax collector, the day laborers, the uneducated. People whose stature in society was low. People who did not get doors held open for them, or eye contact, or friendly words from strangers.

And we as Christians are called to follow that example. Which has convicted me lately – what are my unconscious biases?

Last week I was walking downtown on my way back from lunch when I saw an elderly African-American gentleman stumbling in front of me. His appearance was disheveled. Instinctively I tightened my grip on my purse and looked around me. But then, I checked myself. This man was not drunk. He was not interacting with anybody on the street. He was elderly, poor, and disabled. And my first inclination was not to offer aid, assistance, or compassion. It was to guard against him. I stood convicted by the Holy Spirit.  

And it has forced me to ask myself: what do I think when I approach someone on the street who looks or seems different than me? How do I treat people who live different lives than the one I am used to? I am not saying in a larger sense, but in the common everyday mercies I extend to others. Am I more annoyed by someone who cuts me off in traffic if they look different than me? Am I more likely to greet somebody at the grocery store if they are young and able bodied versus old and slow when pushing the cart? In what small ways can I extend love and grace to people who may not speak my language, who may not live in my neighborhood or who may not know my Jesus?

Before we can change the world, I think we have to take a long hard look at ourselves, to confront the unconscious biases we hold, and to actively seek to love our fellow (wo)man, all of them. 

And for me (perhaps getting a little bit political here) I have felt an overwhelming conviction that I need to listen. To stop protesting that I am not a racist or sexist or a nationalist or a whatever -ist, and listen to see what the every day realities of people who are not me may be. I have been shocked. I have been humbled. I have been convicted. I have been encouraged. But mostly, I have seen that what I thought was reality is not the every day experience of people all around me. Which has led me to think and pray about how Christ would feel about this. How Christ would react to these stories. And how I as a Christ follower should also be.

No answers yet. Just more listening. And praying.