In this moment, I desperately looked for an out. Why was all this so difficult? Why was my life all of a sudden so unbearably hard? Why would God let this happen to me? I pointed my finger towards the heavens and for the first time in my life I began to wonder: Does God care? Does God love me? Does God even exist?
A few friends who also grew up in mainline Protestant churches were seeking the same bit of knowledge. Does God exist? As we were good students we began to discuss, wonder, and research together. We attended atheist and Christian lectures, we scoured the internet, and we hit the library stacks all in search of knowledge. I stopped going to church, as I was worried the religion of my youth was tainting my scientific, methodical pursuit of knowledge.
I am not sure if it was the running away from God, the breakup, the incessant pursuit of knowledge, or the busy-ness of my junior year, but during that time I felt as miserable as I have ever felt in my life. One day I sat down with a mentor to talk about this faith crisis. I let her know about my doubt, my pursuit of the Truth, and my anger at God. She very calmly held all my frustration with God. She told me to back out of my church based activities. She personified love in a very difficult time.
After the spring semester ended I left the Southeast for the first time in my life. With 34 other students and 4 adult leaders I trekked through the Southwest exploring National and State Parks. During the day there was a lot of knowledge: geologic features, flora and fauna analysis, reports on water use, oil extraction, early explorers, and even religious fanaticism. At night though there was something else. The leader of the trip a brilliant geologist sat around the campfire and pulled out his guitar. He would play songs from long ago that I had never heard. Then he would share a meal and drink a beer with a few students. Often he and I would sit and one night I asked him how he could believe in God and still hold onto his belief in God. He simply looked at me over the campfire, then looked up to the stars. I do not remember what he said or if he said anything. He too personified love in a difficult time.
Paul wrote to the church in Corinth warning them of the dangers that come with pursuing knowledge without love. Later in this letter he will say that without love our actions, no matter how noble or heroic are a noisy gong or a clanging symbol. Paul knew something that I could not comprehend in my immense sadness and emotional tumult. Knowledge puffs up, but love builds up.
The church in Corinth may have known that food cannot really be sacrificed to idols, my mentors may have known that I was just struggling in the moment, we may know all about our own personal relationship with God; however, what is important in our communal relationship with God is not what we individually know. What is of the utmost importance is our love for one another and our shared love of God. What does this look like?
It looks like my mentors letting me vent and be frustrated without trying to fill my head with more knowledge. Loving me into belief. It looks like abstaining from alcohol in front of the alcoholic. It looks like being gentle with fragile friends going through rough relationships. It looks like being firm with those who are overly proud.
Love builds up our community, yet it is not a simple kind of love that is one size fits all. The love Paul urges us to build with is contextual and requires that we still seek knowledge. We must know our neighbors, our fellow pilgrims on this earthly journey, so that we might love them well. Knowledge puffs up, love builds up, but knowledge with God’s love can build the Kingdom of God. Amen.
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