A Story
Once upon a time, a 9 year old girl unwrapped a present.
Now, this was a little girl who loved to read. If she was supposed to be doing something and it was taking too long, it was probably because she was reading instead. It didn't matter what she was reading--a kid's learn to read book, one of her father's old Spiderman or Fantastic Four comics, one of her chapter books, whatever was available. She'd read it. It didn't matter how many times she'd read it, she'd read it. Cleaning her room always took hours because she'd start with her bookshelf. No work got done. At least not until she got caught and made to actually clean.
The book was a boxed set of seven books with fantastic pictures on the box. She fell in love almost immediately and devoured the books.
Thirteen years later, a young woman, freshly graduated from college, entered seminary. About a year and a half earlier she'd been ordained, despite the objections of people who claimed that because random chance had given her two Xs rather than a Y she could not be called by God. She thought she had all the answers. She thought she knew the Bible inside and out, had a grasp on correct theology, that she knew the Will of God.
But she took Old Testament and New Testament that first year. She'd been introduced to new ways to read scripture, to carefully examine the text, to not make assumptions that she already knew what it said and what it meant.
More importantly, she took Hebrew. She met and fell in love with the language. Learned how it worked. Learned how translation worked. Fell so in love with it that she'd wind up giving her life to it. And it would completely change and transform her life.
The problem was, the transformation was not easy. She learned that Palestinians were people God loved and cared about, not just a giant obstacle to the Jewish people receiving the fulfillment of God's promise to Abraham. She learned God did not hate homosexuality or require that they live lives of celibacy. She learned about social justice. She learned about the internal conversations in scripture.
She came to understand that she could continue to believe that the Bible was God's Word without believing that it was infallable.
And she knew that if her family ever found out about her transformation, she'd be in a world of hurt. She did not believe, at this point, that she'd be disowned, but she knew it would be bad. They'd question her call, her "salvation." And she felt torn. Torn in soul. Between the person she was becoming, the person she was meant to be, the person she believed that God intended her to be, and between her family.
For a while she did not know how to describe it. And then one day she knew. Like Eustace, she felt as if she was being skinned alive by a lion, and it hurt, it hurt, but it was so necessary, and worth it.
Then, nine years later, when once again she struggled with who she was and her family, a movie was made, and she was worried. Worried that they'd get this one most important scene right.
And they didn't. But the way they did it was so very beautiful. And so though it was wrong. It still made her cry, and she was glad she'd taken the advice of a friend.
Now, this was a little girl who loved to read. If she was supposed to be doing something and it was taking too long, it was probably because she was reading instead. It didn't matter what she was reading--a kid's learn to read book, one of her father's old Spiderman or Fantastic Four comics, one of her chapter books, whatever was available. She'd read it. It didn't matter how many times she'd read it, she'd read it. Cleaning her room always took hours because she'd start with her bookshelf. No work got done. At least not until she got caught and made to actually clean.
The book was a boxed set of seven books with fantastic pictures on the box. She fell in love almost immediately and devoured the books.
Thirteen years later, a young woman, freshly graduated from college, entered seminary. About a year and a half earlier she'd been ordained, despite the objections of people who claimed that because random chance had given her two Xs rather than a Y she could not be called by God. She thought she had all the answers. She thought she knew the Bible inside and out, had a grasp on correct theology, that she knew the Will of God.
But she took Old Testament and New Testament that first year. She'd been introduced to new ways to read scripture, to carefully examine the text, to not make assumptions that she already knew what it said and what it meant.
More importantly, she took Hebrew. She met and fell in love with the language. Learned how it worked. Learned how translation worked. Fell so in love with it that she'd wind up giving her life to it. And it would completely change and transform her life.
The problem was, the transformation was not easy. She learned that Palestinians were people God loved and cared about, not just a giant obstacle to the Jewish people receiving the fulfillment of God's promise to Abraham. She learned God did not hate homosexuality or require that they live lives of celibacy. She learned about social justice. She learned about the internal conversations in scripture.
She came to understand that she could continue to believe that the Bible was God's Word without believing that it was infallable.
And she knew that if her family ever found out about her transformation, she'd be in a world of hurt. She did not believe, at this point, that she'd be disowned, but she knew it would be bad. They'd question her call, her "salvation." And she felt torn. Torn in soul. Between the person she was becoming, the person she was meant to be, the person she believed that God intended her to be, and between her family.
For a while she did not know how to describe it. And then one day she knew. Like Eustace, she felt as if she was being skinned alive by a lion, and it hurt, it hurt, but it was so necessary, and worth it.
Then, nine years later, when once again she struggled with who she was and her family, a movie was made, and she was worried. Worried that they'd get this one most important scene right.
And they didn't. But the way they did it was so very beautiful. And so though it was wrong. It still made her cry, and she was glad she'd taken the advice of a friend.