I could never be a preacher.
When I was in school I lived for the essay question, or short answer, because I liked to ramble on and talk about things. I liked the discussion.
Definitive anything still makes me uncomfortable.
It’s not that I can’t make decisions. Sometimes there’s a white and a black shirt, if I can’t afford both, I have to choose. When pressed, I usually make decisions quickly and with little thought. I guess that’s not a good way to be, but that’s how I’m put together.
The certainty of yes or no, there is or there isn’t, feels . . . final.
Religion, at least the organized version, seems very true/false. Sure, some preachers (Is that even the right word? Priest, pastor, rabbi? You get the idea.) stretch to a multiple choice, but not many.
Personally, I’m not sure what type of God is out there and I’m not ready to commit to the typical plastic white baby Jesus in my tiny nativity scene either. Because, well Jesus wasn’t from Nebraska.
If the stories are accurate, he came from over there in the holy land where there’s a lot of sunshine and people tan. If he existed at all, which I’m pretty sure he did, I’m not convinced he worked the loaves and fishes, or that bit about the the Red Sea. Most of that sounds sketchy and good fiction.
See what I mean?
I wouldn’t be able to stand up on Sunday with that jumbled nonsense. My flock or followers don’t want that. They want an answer, true or false, heaven or hell, good or bad, and most importantly, right or wrong.
It seems there’s a great need in our world to be right or wrong. It’s like some people carry around a big red pen. The felt tip kind that are more like markers and always bleed through the paper.
Some people need to say, “You are wrong and I am right.”
I’m not about that, I like some wiggle room.
It’s fine with me if God is an oak tree or a man, or a woman. I don’t need the specific details. It’s good energy and that’s enough for me. Besides, here’s a news flash red pen carriers, none of us really know.
Jesus could have been just a man, or maybe he took his body with him after he was on a cross, or maybe there wasn’t a cross, that’s okay too.
Believing in something or someone greater than ourselves is good, it’s important even, but I get a headache when someone tries to tell me there’s only one way.
Maybe the one-way attitude is based in fear, a kind of test taking anxiety. Could be that the red pen people never liked short answer so now they try to force everything into a true/false.
That’s a shame because life, even the spiritual, seems like an essay question.
Of course, I could be wrong.
My thoughts from the laundry room. Quiet.