Betsy said it and we laughed.
I can’t remember what we
were talking about. I just
remember how we laughed
and remarked that that was
a good one when she said,
“God isn’t who He used to be.”
I kind of want to tell you more,
you know, the context of our
conversation or to expound on
the implications, the irony which
instantly brought laughter.
But whatever more I could tell
you is already there for you to see.
It is in the remark itself:
“God isn’t who He used to be.”
It’s about us.
I am one among billions
of fish in the Sea.
I don't know why.
I swim with my kind
and go where they go
… that I do know.
We seek food to eat
and try to not be eaten
by those that would.
We all move as one.
We live to survive.
I don't know why.
I am one among billions
of fish in the Sea
… until I am not
I stood on the peak amidst the expanse of the moonlit, starry night, with the resplendent glory of the Sierra Nevada, windswept and cold, lungs filling full with exquisitely pure air after the hard climb.
Weakened by the long survival trek, body seeking food, the soul freedom, suddenly I was at peace in the profound beauty of the night.
No window light or human voice or face, or road or sound of sufferings’ groan was near or real in this ineffable place of truth. How odd, I thought, that such a place—cathedral of grace—lives, exists while humanity struggles to grin in the cruel grip of its inescapable pain.
Come here, I thought, come here with me now – see what I see, feel what I feel, know what I know in this moment and place. Come in to the hallowed beauty of this night.
But the night said they must come in their own time, urged me to push on to Freedom Road, to food and water—to avoid the aggressors.
It gifted me and sent me on my way to learn what I may before my inevitable return home — to the beauty of the night.
Note: This was an experience I had as a twenty year old Air Force Pilot. I had just finished the two week “Starvation Trek” in the Sierra Nevada mountains that was the second phase of the Air Force Survival School. The third and final phase was the Escape and Evasion Exercise. Earlier that night, our crew of eleven was loaded into a truck and driven to an isolated location in the foothills of the Sierra Nevada range where we were dropped off in pairs. Each pair was given a small map and a compass. Our challenge was to negotiate about 25 miles of difficult terrain while locating four partisan (friendly) checkpoints and avoiding the Aggressors (the enemy). The objective was Freedom Road, located at Stead Air Force Base near Reno, Nevada. If we managed to evade the Aggressors and cross over Freedom Road, we would have completed survival school without any further requirements. If we were captured, we would likely endure some very aggressive interrogation and notoriously rough treatment in the “POW” Camp.
A Sierra Nevada Night takes place as I and my companion reached the peak of a third or fourth high ridge at about midnight. We had been weakened by the Starvation Trek so we were physically exhausted. In case you’re wondering, we successfully crossed Freedom Road the next day.
When I was a child my mother taught me
to say a prayer before I went to sleep.
“Now I lay me down to sleep …”
It taught me that my life was fragile,
could be taken away at any moment
and if it happened while I was sleeping
I hoped that God would take my soul
(Me?) and everything would be just fine—
that was, if He decided to take my soul.
(No one mentioned a guarantee.)
It was instructive and comforting … then.
I’ve had a lot of questions since “then”
but I have distilled them all into just one:
“Are You?” That’s it. It’s not complicated.
It’s not deep or profound. It is a simple
question, which remains unanswered.
I went to Sunday School. I was a choir boy.
I studied the Bible in a Methodist prep
school. I read the major philosophers—
consulted others; pastors, priests, thinkers.
I thought about and considered it all
carefully and with great diligence.
Some believers told me that God speaks
with them. I asked them how. “Do you hear
His voice?” They said, “Not exactly, I just
know.” They said, “Pray to Him and ask
him to speak to you.” I said that I had, do,
but He does not speak to me. Some told me
to keep trying, praying, and when I told them
I had tried for many years, they said I needed
to have faith. I had heard that all my life.
“You just need to have faith, Bobby.” But, I
wondered; if having faith—belief—will get
God to talk with me, then who, what else
would talk with me if I had enough faith?
Did having faith make God real? Was He
not real before faith? Where was He before
someone believed in Him?
Some said, “It’s all in the Book of God,
God’s Book. It is all there. You simply need
to believe the words in the Book.” But, I said,
“The Book was written by men who lived
thousands of years ago in a land and in a culture
far different than ours. Is it reasonable to have
faith in these men with whom we have little
in common and about whom we know so little?”
“Well,” they replied, “you see the words are not
theirs, they are the words of God. God spoke to
these men and told them what they should know
and believe and how they must lead their lives.”
“So sayeth the men,” said I.
I asked, “Which is the real Book of God for there
are many.” Each one said, “Mine, the one I believe
in. It is the true Book of God.” My Jewish friends
said that and my Christian friends said that and
my Muslim friends said that and the Rabbis and
Pastors and Imams said that.
I learned that they make war against each other
and slaughter each other to force their beliefs on
each other. That is, except the Jews. Even though
they claimed God first, I learned that they don’t
force their beliefs on anyone. They just ask to be
left alone, which hasn’t worked out well for them.
Some said their God is a god of love.
I then learned that Jews argue among Jews about
what the words in their Books mean and that
Christians and Muslims argue among themselves
over the intent and meaning in their Books.
I asked, “Was God not perfectly clear when He
told these men what they should know and believe
and do? There seems to be a great deal of confusion
about what God said.” They replied, “God was clear.
The imperfect nature of man is the cause of this
confusion.” “Then how can we trust that the words
in the Book of God are the words of God if they were
written by men and men cannot be relied upon?”
I asked.
Once again, I was reassured by each, “You can trust
my Book. It is the Word of God.”
They were an ordinary group of people. Nothing stood out to make you think there was anything different or odd about them—except for what took place. No need to tell you where it happened—what country or town. That's not important and it has no bearing on the matter. They were mostly men with a few women among them.
One of the men said, “Did you hear the news, God is dead.” Another man said, “What? What news? You mean someone told you that?” The first man said, “It was on television, on the news. They announced it. They said that God is dead.” “That's ridiculous.” the second guy said. “They wouldn't announce such a thing.” Yet another man said, “Of course they wouldn't. How would anyone know such a thing anyway? It's absurd.” The first man said, “Well I was wide awake and I wasn't drunk and I know what I heard. The TV guy said ‘God is dead.'
The group tightened. Everyone seemed suddenly interested. They had never talked about such a disturbing thing as this before. This had nothing to do with the weather or how someone got ripped off at some store or how someone wasn't talking to somebody or other topics that protected them from deep think.
A woman said, “Don't pay any attention to him. He's just trying to annoy everyone. You know how he is.” The first man said, “What did you mean by that? You think I have nothing better to do than make up things like this? I'm telling you it was announced on TV. He said 'God is dead.'
I should at least tell you they were at a park with a very large pond full of geese and ducks. It was a beautiful summer day. You need to know this because while they were talking the sky abruptly changed. It just went from sunny and clear to dark, windy, and scary—the geese and ducks took off all at once as though they all had the same thought simultaneously. Someone said, “What the hell's going on?” Another said, “Jesus!”
They headed for a couple of picnic tables under some trees. A woman said, “It's just a passing thunder storm. It'll be over as fast as it started.” A man asked, “Anyway, how can anyone prove that God is dead?” Someone said, “The same way you can prove that He’s alive.” A woman said, “That’s crazy!” They all fell silent.
The storm passed and the sun came out but for some reason the geese and ducks didn't return. A woman said, “I have to go.” She headed for her car. A man said, “Yeah.” Another man said, “I'm tired.” They all got up from the picnic tables and left.