Our Father which Art a Lion

So the apostles and a few others hanging around back in the day got basic instructions for life in the New Covenant. As if they had no clue how to "think" about God then Christ comes along and explains when they pray they should say, "Our Father."

For the most part my father treated me well. He was a Baptist Missionary- a fundamental independent Baptist. I grew up hearing him preach America's Dispensationalism in South Korea proclaiming the end of the world was nigh. Scary for a kid- either slanted eyed or white thighed. Despite the finer points of his sci-fi "raptilian" (i.e. Rapture) end of the world tactics I did genuinely learn from him a great deal about loving others and about what I think it means to love God with all your heart.

My faith journey into adulthood rapidly exposed me to the full spectrum of multi-denominational culture. I am an acute observer who could sit in an airport's international terminal all day (being an MK you often feel like you were born in an airport terminal). As a student of observation I learned much from fine folks in the Church of God (thanks for the oil- felt good on the head), the Presbytyrannical church (joke), Ya'll Southern Baptists and even some Emergents (where are they now?).

But stand I now a "seasoned" Fulfilled Eschatologismicologist. It was not easy getting here. And over the last few months I just realized that I might not want to be in this place where I am standing. All the serious deep and infected pain that came from the dismantling of my childhood Darbified indoctrination seems to have melted away and that seems to be a good thing. So when the pain leaves what fills its place?

The other night my father confronted me about not going to Church on Sunday night and I simply calmly defended myself without even taking a deep breath where in the past it would have been a more difficult confrontation. This time I spoke the truth with no emotion in a way that must have left my parents wondering what deep space topic I was pondering that was so serious so as to prevent even a ripple of body language whilst being interrogated.

What has sunk into my core gut is a scary thought. One that makes me realize I actually have a choice for the first time in my life- a choice to step into the raw walk-Way of God or remain at the crossroads. That I am actually faced with this choice well off into adulthood perhaps reveals a certain level of spiritual adolescence. I used to think I was more of a spiritual adult- all grown up like. But maybe I was fooled. This choice is extremely scary and it is this: that I should walk further and choose to investigate a God who can tolerate for so utterly very long the gross errors his people commit daily. What kind of God is this? He is not like any "father" that I ever knew. My father would never tolerate such gross errors. But this God... well, ... He is more like C.S. Lewis Feline with retracted claws and vicious fangs which you might get a glimpse of when He yawns. At most times of the day He seems untrackable, powerfully reserved if you get a glimpse. But this reservation which I perceive can't last. Lions eventually get agitated or go hunting. I can't reconcile the disconnect between a generic father concept and that of a Lion of Judah. And thus I am frozen- standing still, not sure if I it is safe to proceed.