"No, Yes, Maybe": biblical meditations on uncertainty

The ancient saying goes, “Hope deferred makes the heart sick, but a longing fulfilled is a tree of life.” (Proverbs 13:12) But, what did the ancients know about dreams? During times of uncertainty, my dreams call out to me in the wilderness. Dreams protect us against the dark night of the soul and hope deferred. Dreams are much like the suet of a sacrificial animal, the thick fatty substance found around the loins and the kidneys, protecting the most intimate and delicate areas of the body: faith, hope, and love.

My Love, don’t overthink with your head, and tell me, “No.” This will certainly make my heart sick. Tell me: “We shall see…” (1 John 3:2)

I’m afraid of No’s, afraid of being cut off, of endings and walls, afraid of barriers and rejections. Tell me, “We shall see…” and I’ll find my faith again. I’ll dream about you every night.

Don’t go with your gut and tell me, “Yes.” Tell me this certainty instead: “The LORD will give you the desires of your heart.” (Ps. 37:4)

I’m afraid of Yes’s, afraid of commitments and vows, afraid of promises that might get broken. Tell me: “The LORD will give you the desires of your heart.” Then I will find longing and hope again. I’ll dream about everlasting fulfillment.

Don’t tell me with shifting feet, “Maybe.” Tell me, “Love is as strong as death [and a tree of life].” (Song 8:6)

I’m afraid of Maybe’s, of agonizing uncertainty, of death and the unknown. I’m afraid of wavering minds and wavering hearts, and of hope deferred. Instead of Maybe, tell me: “Love is as strong as death,” because uncertainty is only the certainty of change. Uncertainty awakens desire and longing and dreams. Uncertainty is the wilderness where dreams come alive, the place where God spoke and the love longing fulfilled became a tree of life.

Confessions

I’m a part-time youth pastor and admin assistant in a beloved church community (a2blue.org) that is LGBTQIA+ affirming, supports Black Lives Matter, and provides a safe place for me to be open and honest about my history with mental illness. I love the people in this community, many of whom have broken hearts because of religion, and yet choose love over religious creeds. My confessions here will not go into as much detail as those of, for example, Saint Augustine, but I do have a few things to confess.

An Inner Division

I’ve long had doubts about Jesus as the Christian church presents him to the world, as if he were a god on his own. But, I wanted to follow his Word. Even if I had my doubts, I could still do the good advice that he suggests! Give food to the hungry, clothe the naked, visit those in prison, and care for the sick. So, as a social worker, I did all of these things, with special care for those suffering from mental illness. Later, in foster care, I worked to restore the hearts of parents to their children and the hearts of children into a healthy, loving relationship with their parents—through reunion, foster care, or adoption. 

However, all this time that I tried to fulfill the work that God’s prophets call us to do, my personal life was quite conflicted and I often struggled with a heavy burden. The scriptures might call it "worshiping idols," but in simple terms, I felt enslaved to my own impulses and divided from within. When I was younger, I drank alcohol to the point that I would completely lose myself. I would do anything and everything that my impulses said to do, including things that I normally wouldn’t do when sober. Maybe this is often what some young people do, but, even worse than that, in my sober, waking moments, I rivaled with and envied the people that I love the most. Rivalry, envy, and resentment are powerful forces that can divide a body and mind from within.

A friend once told me that she struggled like I knew I struggled. She said she did certain things that she later felt bad about doing. But, then she’d go and do those same things again and again. I once told her: “If you want to do those things, then do them, and don’t feel bad. But, if you don’t want to do them, then don’t do them!” I said this as if it were a very simple solution:

“Let your yes be yes, and your no be no.” (Matthew 5:37)

None of us act on every whim or desire that our body has. But, there can be a great pull stemming from our self-serving drives. These drives are like an evil oppressor who insists on having their own needs met first, and only then attends to others—and only as long as they get something in return (Hey! White supremacy in a nutshell). Yet, all these go against the one command that I believe with all my heart: Love. Love the Lord Your God [and] Love your neighbor as yourself.

A Vision

The Book of John, chapter 8, tells a story that was not part of the original gospels. It's kinda an odd story in the context of the verses around it. It's known as, “The adulterous woman.” The story frames a group of people zealous for the Law as accusers who are testing Jesus, and ask if they should stone an adulterous woman who was just caught in the act. This story has long been interpreted through an anti-Judaism lens by gentile Christians---interpretations which I reject and am constantly unlearning.

However, I also received a vision. For certain reasons, I saw myself as the adulterous woman. My accusers circled around me, asking the rabbi if they should stone me or not. In my vision, Jesus was there, bent down, writing something in the sand. Possibly from my participation in years of therapy, I paused here and wondered: Who are my accusers?! 

Certainly, my accuser was not my husband who loves me, not my friends who do not judge, and not my church either (not to speak for all churches!). No, in that moment, I realized my only “accuser” was the Law of Righteousness written on my own heart. My bad feelings and frustration with my impulses and desires came from my own desire for goodness, decency, and ultimately to love my neighbor as myself. I realized that when I do whatever impulse comes up in me (even if only in my fantasies), I turn against my loved ones to serve myself first. In that case, I do not love my neighbor OR myself.

Because my accusers felt terrifying, I was afraid. And some evil liar tried to tell me that the only way to be *free* was to give in to all my desires: find and do whatever I please.

Yet, here, this one among the doers of the Law of Righteousness (Let’s call it: Torah), a rabbi who fulfilled the law to love your neighbor as yourself, showed God’s compassion on me. This Teacher forgave me and loved me just as I am. He turned to the accusers in my imagination and said, “Let anyone without sin cast the first stone.” One by one, starting with the oldest, they showed compassion on the humanity within us all. Their stones fell to the dust, one by one, until I was alone with my rabbi. He looked at me and said, “Neither do I condemn you. Now, go...” Go, and follow the greatest and first commandment: “Love the Lord your God with all your heart, all your soul, all your mind and all your strength,” and the second like it, “Love your neighbor as yourself.”

These are my confessions. Something of me had to die for something else to live. My sanity was restored.

~

Whether we live or whether we die, we are the Lord’s. (Romans 14:8)

~

Nothing is unclean in itself; but it is unclean for anyone who thinks it unclean.

(Romans 14:14)

~

Let us then pursue what makes for peace and mutual upbuilding. (Romans 14:19) 

Beginning of Birth Pains: Nation Against Nation

Birth pangs send shooting pain that explodes in the mind, an explosion that begins and ends in the darkness of the womb. New life will overcome it. 

Shots fired from police guns send pangs of death that explode on the bodies of the innocent, the oppressed of the nations, the light of our nation. The light begins and ends in the bodies of the oppressed, and the darkness will not overcome it. 

The surge always begins like this, like a warning or a sign of what is to come. More of this is to come...

~

I-in-You and You-in-Me. The child in the mother, the mother in the child. The mother’s blood poured out, her body broken, for you, new soul, wrapped in the warmth of the womb, waiting. 

I-in-You and You-in-Me, the immigrant child in our nation, the dream of our nation in the immigrant child. The blood of a nation’s promise, the very soul of a nation poured out, broken for you, innocent child, wrapped in a brittle foil blanket surrounded by the cold walls of a cage, waiting.

But, this was only the beginning…

~

“You have to breathe,” the midwife says as unwilling lungs clench tight in the breathless chest with tears streaming down cheeks. The heart rate rises.

“I can’t breathe!” say the victims of state violence with tears streaming down cheeks pressed against pavement. The heart rate rises.

“We can’t breathe!” say our elders and the most vulnerable with tears soaking face masks as a deadly virus spreads among doubters, revelers, and individualists. The heart rate rises.

“They can’t breathe!” we see as they speak out for justice, for peace, as they suffocate on tear gas released for a presidential photo op and $2 dollar toys at Target. We don’t realize that “they” are the heartbeat of us, rising and falling and ever rising again, as our unwilling lungs clench tight in the breathless chest, unwilling to cry or mourn or repent or breathe justice or breathe in peace. 

Tears streaming: no justice, no peace. The heart rate rises... 

~

The surges are coming stronger now so that every thought disappears and there is only an overwhelming, unbearable sensation that seems to last forever. Grab anything--a helpful hand, the bars, the bed sheets. But then the sensation fades and passes, forgotten--until the next surge comes. The doctor sees and says, “There’s still a long way to go.”

They surged against our governor without a thought, calling her, “That woman.” They surged against our state capitol building overwhelming and unbearable, grabbing anything--guns, automatic weapons, flags. But, the sensation of the moment faded and passed, forgotten...until the next surge came.

They stormed the United State’s Capitol without a thought in their minds as the world watched. Overwhelming, unbearable, it seemed to last forever. Grab anything--a hand-held weapon, a Jesus flag, Confederate Trump flag, “Don’t Tread on Me” flag, so as to tread on life-breath-heart beating-bodies and desecrate democracy. But, the sensation, the siege, faded and passed, almost forgotten--until the next surge comes.

The prophets see and say, “The time is near.”