In present days I have grown leery of men whose claim of faith has produced a series of systematic certainties in which they live and move and have their being. Neat and tidy lines of doctrine and subsequent protocols that form in them a guarantee of their own “rightness” somehow. This is not so much an indictment against them as it is a revelation about me.
If I am honest, my journey in Christ Jesus has presented me with far more questions than it has provided answers. It has not provided me the luxury of regimented code but instead has stripped me of nearly every sacred certainty I’ve ever had. It has challenged my allegiance to both nation and denomination. It has been an affront to my blatant insecurity as well as my subtle arrogance. It has wrenched from my gnarled grasp every tie to this fading earth I’ve formed. And at every turn, in every confrontation I am face with that same loaded inquiry as was the zealot so long ago “…but who do you say I am?”
And yet, somehow, in this most jealous of interrogations; in the midst of my deep agonies and despite murkiest devotion I find a Father of impossible beauty and gentleness; as endearing as He is holy. Though all around me be slight and shadow He has, in His glory, come into focus. Here, standing here, I am neither right, nor need to be. He is true. True beyond any sense of tangible certainty. And dogmas and doctrines suddenly pale in comparison to a heart beating out a response of devoted conviction. Convinced! Convinced of His goodness and His majesty.
Here it is- again this mystery. That in knowing, so much has become unknown till at last remains this one certainty.
“I am that I am”