He is There, but sometimes He seems silent.

"But I am not in control. I wasn't four months ago. I wouldn't have decided to take James River seriously. I wouldn't have decided to believe what was being said about Christ. To drop some of the cynicism and sarcasm for long enough to begin to love the people. To accept Christ. To be baptized. Those were not part of my plan."

That is explosive.

Because I wasn't in control, even before I gave up control. Because I acted in ways that were part of my own ends, but that ultimately resulted fully in His perfect end. Mostly because it suggests that we have to somehow commit ourselves to a will, and a plan, that is not our own. A seemingly invisible one.

As I re-read that passage of yesterday's post, I see immediately how my non-Christian friends could view it. And that reminds me of how I would have read it, in August, or September, maybe October. How thin it would seem. How frightening, and weak it might read. Has she been brainwashed? Is she giving up her right to free-thought? Free-speech? So now she's just going to submit to everything her pastor says? If she wasn't in control, who was?

My own moment of salvation hinged upon the understanding that the change was not only in the decision to accept a truth claim, but then to act accordingly. To say "His Will be done..." and, necessarily, "...not my own." But what does that mean? I struggled, and struggle, against the notion that it means accepting whole-sale the prescriptions of our pastors. Pastors can be wrong. Interpretations can be wrong. Churches, and movements, and best-selling authors can be wrong.

So, at its core, that leaves me. And the Bible. And God. Me, an imperfect being with imperfect understanding. The Bible, an oft-debated collection of teachings. God, a very real, and very personal, but invisible deity.

It's not hard to see why non-Christians are incredulous.

What does it mean when we say that we are entrusting ourselves to His will? That we're waiting on Him? I fear that too often, it means that we are surrendering ourselves to the opinions of our pastors (and by pastors I mean to include all those whom we consider wise), without discourse nor debate. But in the absence of a God who would speak to us directly, in full English with perfect grammar, and at just the right volume--what do we do when we're not sure whether to stay or to go, and neither option is backed by a verse?

What does it mean to say, "His will be done," when His will is not obvious, as it so often is not. I wonder if the answer to this question, or the absence of one, is one of the harder intellectual leaps for non-Christians. And for Christians.

At least the Christians have a frame of reference. All of us, by definition, can point to at least one decision in our lives in which God guided us in experience and scripture, maybe invisibly, maybe in full view, but definitely with incredible precision, towards an unbelievable end. The unbelievable end.

For the non-Christian, the very concept of giving up control to some ethereal God might seem synonymous with giving up control to a pastor (or an ideology), and why is he any smarter than I am? Why should I believe what that Christian has to say about Truth?

Maybe you shouldn't. Then again, maybe you should. I pray that God helps you decide.

Don't be surprised if He does.