Consequences and actions: not children's games

For every action there is an equal and opposite reaction. --Isaac Newton

People don't like the idea of consequences. They want to be able to live their life freely and do what they want to do without any consequences. And we know that's just not the way life is. --Charles Stanley

Actions and consequences.

Consequences and actions.

You can not have one without the other.   Despite how much we wish it otherwise.

When touring the Birmingham Civil Rights Institute, I was drawn by the question of consequences.  When African American residents of Birmingham decided to confront the dehumanizing, racism of the community, did they expect the violent response of Bull Connor. 

Given Connor’s history of violence, I suspect the Civil Rights advocates knew well that their actions would have consequences.

There are rules and cultural norms that govern society.  Not all rules and norms are uplifting of the human spirit.  Some are and some are not.  The same was true in Jesus’ time.  Often, those in power would accuse Jesus and his followers of breaking the rules.  He healed on the Sabbath.  The disciples ate food without washing properly.  They associated with sinners and women. 

There are consequences for breaking rules and norms.  The consequences seldom include ticker-tape parades and chocolate.

There are exceedingly good reasons to act against oppressive rules and norms. Oppressive rules and norms that are allowed to continue break the bonds and foundations of community life.

And yet, one must be realistic and accept the consequences for those actions.

To claim that the consequence do not apply because the cause is just and honorable or because "others have done it before" is hubris.  It trivializes the real sacrifices made by many who have stood against oppressive systems.  No real justice comes without cost. 

Actions have consequences.

Changes come with a price.

Otherwise, the actions are just foolish actions by children.

Sometime around 22 years ago, without a serious or conscious decision, Joe Coelho and I embarked on being parents.  Neither of us wanted to have children (people always give us disbelieving looks when we say this, but it is true), but as things happen (he is a biology professor!) we co-created a child.

Now, I am the oldest of five children and my youngest sibling was born when I was 18.  I know a thing or two about babies.  Joe is the youngest of five children and is a quick learner.

For the most part, Savannah Coelho has been a joy to raise (while some children cry when they are sleepy, she had manic fits of laughter).  She is a compassionate, smart young woman that totally amazes me.

Between us, Joe and I have nearly 10 years of post graduate work.  Yet, we did not really have any depth of understanding as to what it would mean to have a child. 

There were the predictably hard questions:  Where did I come from? (Who knew the answer was Indiana!)  Why did my kitten die?  Do I have to be her friend?  And while at the movies watching Disney’s Prince of Egypt, “Why did God kill all those babies?”

Even more challenging than the hard questions are the times we parents are the tour guides to navigating the changes in life.  Some of those challenges are both hard and necessary:  Making a doctor’s appointment and going by herself; Starting the first year of college by being independent; quitting a job because she could not give it her best.  If I had to guess, the hardest and most challenging part of parenting is stepping back and providing directions in those times, knowing we have given her all the skills she needs to get to the appropriate direction, even if it was not in the first try.  This navigation process sometimes involved the nasty, nasty lesson that life is not fair.

There are times that the faith community is pregnant with new life, such as baptisms or communion.  I remember hearing people say that children should not receive either ordinance because they did not “really understand them.”    Children, in this vaulted opinion, could not fathom the sacredness of the water and bread.

Usually, I get all bristly hearing these explanations.  Like a porcupine cornered by a yellow lab, my quills perk up and threaten to do damage.

The reality is, just like embarking on parenthood, when we entered the sacred ordinances of the church, none of us are prepared.  None of us wholly understand them.  None of us “get it.”  If we did “get it,” then baptism and communion would not be holy mysteries or moments for conversion. 

The faithful life comes with its own set of hard questions: How do we understand the rape of Tamar?  What is God calling me to be? How can I be present to the least of these?  Can I mirror the love of God to people that I do not, personally like.

The faithful life also comes with a nasty realization that life is not fair.  I once heard an older adult say: “Fair is a place you go to ride rides.  Life is not fair.”  Nothing makes that painfully clear as a faithful life.  Perhaps the realization that life is not fair is painful, but it is also joyful.  I do not want a God that is fair.  Realistically, I would prefer a God that gives me what I need with compassion than one that gives me what I deserve with justice.

I have always been fascinated with P52.  The most ancient papyrus is about the size of your hand.  Among its fragmented writings it has one clear citation: “’What is truth?’ retorted Pilate” from John 18:38.

How ironic that the oldest portion of the New Testament is a question of truth. 

What is truth?

I had a great deal of time today to ponder this question.  What is truth?

Court officials ask “Do you affirm to tell the whole truth?”  Can there be a partial truth?  Doesn’t, by its nature, truth require completeness?  Isn’t a half-truth, a whole lie?

Not everyone defines truth in the same manner.  Just ask Pilate, as he stares at Jesus of Nazareth.

My husband, the biologist, would argue that truth is a statement supported by facts.  If any of the facts can not be proven, then the truth is not true.

A mathematician would say that truth must be supported by a mathematical proof.  If one portion of the equation can not be fulfilled then the truth is not proven.

A lawyer might argue that facts ARE the truth.

As a theologian, I can acknowledge that facts are a part of truth.  I also acknowledge that truth is greater than the facts.  Truth is more than a set of rules.  It is not doctrine and it exceeds the bounds of dogma.  Sometimes church judicatories forget this.

Somehow truth has an over-arching, yet fundamental nature.

What is truth?

Truth is more than opinions or feelings.  Truth does not change because you are angry or because you did not get your way.  If truth is accurate then it does not care if your ego takes a hit.  It is not enough to say, “Well, that’s my truth!”  as if truth is singular to each person.  Truth based on lies is not truth.

Truth is at the core of our human experience. 

It’s the melody that provides the background music to our lives.  It is the color that unifies the painting of our existence.

Truth is where we return, when the journey is over.

What is truth? –to you

I often wonder if anyone still reads blogs, given the onslaught of facebook, twitter, and all the other quick, fix forms of communication.  And yet, here I am starting one.  Hmmmmmm......

Radio Free Babylon's Coffee with Jesus impressed me today.

How often is the day simple about swimming in the shallow end.  So, I want to get out of the shallow end and remember how to add coherent structure to swimming in the deep end.

As I wonder through my day, I am often struck by the intense nature of God being displayed and often ignored.  So this blog will merely be my observations on everyday theological matters.

Your comments will be appreciated, but must be civil.  I am not interested in engaging persons who still have their floaties on in the shallow end of the pool.