dead mentor, living faith

What am I gonna do?

I keep asking myself that.

I came back early from St. Louis because I felt an overwhelming urge to be at James River this morning. I just wanted to be home, in my church. Even as I disagree with 50% of what is said and done there. Ouch. This is un-fun.

A friend of mine, the one I met at the bar last week, asked me some really great questions about my faith. And I realized...I couldn't answer them. He asked me how I was living my faith. How I saw my faith growing in the future. What my struggles in that growth were. And then some questions about James River. He noted that I thought the preaching style was phenomenal, but what about the content?

Ouch, ouch, ouch. The culture down here doesn't lend itself to answering those questions well. Everything is so insular that in some ways, the faith is about rules. If you keep them well, you get to feel good about yourself, and believe that God will protect and reward you. If you don't keep the rules well, but are an A-student on repentance, same deal. Falter in both, you should probably hit up the altar call.

This is the framework on which much is draped, and built, so that ultimately, the frame can't be seen. That's important, because if I were to propose in discussion with friends what I've just written, it would be flat-out denied. But the structure can be seen in behavior, and assumptions.

I don't know that I understand all of this yet. But I do know that my friend asked the right questions, and that his church seems to support both questions and answers in a way that I desperately need right now. I'm praying for a mentor of some sort. I need someone to be able to bridge the gap between left and right, liberal and conservative, north and south, traditional and modern. I need for someone to say, "Yes, absolutely--I see what you're saying, but what about...?" Actually, I need for someone to say it, but actually be able to say it. I know this sounds snobby, and terrible, but most of the people I meet here just don't get it. And they don't get that they don't get it. It makes me want to shoot myself in the foot, or just shoot something, preferably vodka.

I'm worried about leaving that last line in here, even as a joke. And that scares me. I know it'll be judged. Tsk-tsked.

I can hear a friend tell me, "Just read the Bible. Pray." Not ridiculous at all, but definitely ridiculous in the way it's intended. I can read the Bible. And I do. I've always been a big fan, actually. And I can even assume that God touches me as I read it, to help me understand Truth. There's a problem there, though. I can't help but think that people need to stop assuming that God is giving them what ever understanding they feel they come away with. It's more likely that their culture is giving the understanding--they've internalized the values and interpretations of their faith community, so when they read, what seems to them to be God is actually themselves. If this weren't at least partially true, there'd be far fewer very certain, but ultimately wrong, people of all religions.

So what's the answer? There has to be room for faith and mystery, alongside reason and moderate certainty. How do I let both live in me? How will that understanding guide my faith? How do I continue to enjoy myself at James River, without falling in?

This morning, I had this sudden, and forceful impression that what I need now is a more thorough understanding of Old Testament prophets and "heroes." I've been praying and praying for wisdom--maybe my mentor through this process won't be a living one.