Suspicions abound

We are perpetually suspicious.

There are good reasons for our suspicions. We've been sold a bill of goods way too often by those who manipulate the truth, what they say and what they left unsaid, what they imply, how they play on our emotions or fears.  The old caveat 'buyer beware' has turned us into perpetually suspicious people.  Most of the time, I believe I am not suspicious enough.

Thinking about it though, possibly I am not informed enough.  When I fail to seek out multiple voices, when I fail to do the work of chasing down explanations and double checking them against each other, my suspicions are fueled but by my own lack of diligence.

Add a measure of powerlessness and stir in some fear (fear of the unknown, fear that I won't measure up, fear that I will be on the losing end of the deal, etc) and we have a volatile concoction.  Fear makes us stupid or blind or deaf.  (I can't decide but all three are involved).  We rush in support of simple solutions to historically complex dilemmas; we spout off our deeply held beliefs without examining their origin or truth.  In the end, it is sooooo easy to throw up my hands and proclaim loudly that 'there is nothing I can do' 'the system is rigged.'

It takes enormous courage to sit around a table and talk about difficult subjects which threaten us.  It isn't difficult for us to talk; it is difficult for us to listen.  Without judgment.  Accepting that the truth that is being presented is truth to the speaker.  Accepting that we don't know all that we think we know. We want to defend ourselves; we want permission to be innocent.  We - I - find it difficult to simply listen, and then allow that voice time to be truly considered.

During a particularly difficult time in the church when we were talking with each other about human sexuality, Bishop Marie Jerge said, "If you are only talking to people who agree with you, you are not engaged in a dialogue."  Too often I have found a group of folks who think like I do and have convinced myself that I am having 'informed conversation' about a topic.  I'm not.,  I'm simply insulating myself from viewpoints and difficult truths by hearing myself repeated again and again in the voices of other people.

On my good days, I recognize all of this as a call to confession.  Not a confession that I have done wrong, but rather, dear Lord, I am truly broken and frankly, I see very little hope of transformation in the future.  Any transformation of me must come from our Lord Jesus, whose love for a broken soul can raise it to new life in God's kingdom.

When I am most deaf, lost in my own blindness, enamoured of my own stupidity, Jesus still loves me.  That is the love that transforms and raises us up beyond ourselves and into the whole community of God's beloved creation.  It is only through the power of the Holy Spirit that I am able to stop and listen and just perhaps, open myself to love someone who I am sure is dead wrong, possibly evil, and close minded.  Because, of course, that is exactly the kind of love you extend to me.