This morning we put ourselves in their shoes: those Jewish made for wandering shoes. We thought for a few moments about what it was like to stand there and listen to a man say He was God, say He was the answer, the Bread of Life. We tried to understand their grumbling over confusion, and how very right confusion feels in the moments we feel it.

We are guilty of the same. At least I am.

I am very good at seeing through a glass dimly--barely seeing, and yet thinking I see all. It's my nature, isn't it? To think that today's knowledge is the whole of it? To think that by today, certainly I've arrived. Haven't I? Haven't I worked up to this point? Haven't I made myself worthy of knowing what I need to know about me, my life, and maybe yours too?

Tonight I am reading Romans and Paul says this: "[Even though these things seem impossible or unbelievable] it's not as though the word of God has failed!"

Because here's the first clue that I haven't got it all: my all is still so much only a part of it all.

Paul knew that these silly Romans, and all the silly future Romans, were very caught up in jots and tittles, rights and wrongs, befores, hows, and nows. In short, they were caught up in understanding it all. But Paul also knew that the greatest mystery and gift of the gospel was that it is unfathomable--it cannot be understood. And this is not cause to think that it has somehow failed, that He has somehow failed, or that the Word has somehow failed.

But this is cause for us to say, like Peter, "To Whom else should we go?"

Because all the world has to offer is answers, analysis, protocol, and medication. It offers pat answers and dictionary definitions. It offers talk shows and best-sellers, book clubs and diets. It shouts from billboards and magazines "We have the answer! Try us!"

But we are not satisfied with answers, because there are always more questions: we are satisfied with mystery.

Because He has the words of Eternal Life.
And that is enough for this life.

May 2008