God is God, and I am not.

I am packing. I enjoy packing. I'm excited about where I'm going. Though the circumstances of the move are less than pleasant, and much less than honest. I felt some confusion as to how I should respond to the situation. I almost did something I knew to be wrong. And as I asked my friends, people whose opinions I trust and respect, one by one, they said things that made me cringe. I sat with them, across the desk, over the phone, thinking to myself "wrong," "wrong," "wrong again." No lie, every single one of them (except for one who abstained to give advice at all), said "You have to look out for you first." Ouch. By the third person, I could sense it coming, and wanted to say, "No, no, don't say it."

I love these people dearly. Remind me not to sign a lease with any of them.

I am about to tell of something that is highly uncharacteristic of any of my experiences, and certainly not something I would normally admit. I'm not entirely sure that writing this won't earn me a psychiatric evaluation, or at least a concerned intervention from any of my University friends who may be reading this. At nightfall on Monday, I had made a bad decision. Early on Tuesday morning, I awoke, and in the silence, I heard or felt or understood something inside me to say, "You're letting Satan in."

Now I am not the type to chatter on about Satan. Actually, I prefer the less descriptive, more general term "evil" for pretty much any instance in which "Satan" could be used. I don't think that Satan makes our cars break down (though planned obsolescence is a greedy form of evil), or causes rain on our work picnic, or has us running late to prayer meeting. Certainly, his influence can be found in the way that we react to such events. And therein lies his power. Therein lay his influence on me, as I contemplated options related to my housing.

I decided to go with God. My conversations with friends were unsettling. There was a lot of moral white noise going on, and three of them accused me of mistakenly thinking there was an objective "right" and "wrong" (the absence of which, by the way, has been notoriously tricky to defend, philosophically). The more I heard, the more I thought something I've been thinking a lot recently. I don't want to be God. I don't want to be charged with deciding what is right and wrong.

I can hear them fire back at me, "But when you give up your right to decide, you give up objectivity, and reason, and become prey to religious hocus pocus! (Then you become a Republican...)" Or something to that effect. And I get it. I've had recent experience with it. But I'm not talking about giving up my ability to weigh objectively evidence for or against moral positions, or the claims of religious leaders. Just find God. You don't even have to start at God. You can start at wherever you put your "line." As one of my friends told me, "Murder is objectively wrong." Ok, well, why?

I'm not afraid of exploration, because, as I said even as a liberal theological "believer," there is no piece of evidence, no book, and no idea that can topple God and His Truth. If it's true, it'll come through, if you're seeking honestly. My weak mind will not reverse His love.

But to take on the responsibility of deciding for oneself what is right and wrong, which of all the world's customs and practices should be deemed sin, and which virtue. What was I thinking? Why did I want such a task? How did I think I was its intellectual equal? And what's more-- how would I have assumed that it just so happened that my own beliefs on such matters were aligned completely with those of the Creator? How fortuitous for me! What luck!

It's insanity. Its own kind of grandiosity.

I will use my intellect, and heart, and creativity, and spirit in service to Him. But try always to remember that they are only instruments unto His will.