I Have Trust Issues...

My Granny used to joke that my first word wasn't mama or dada...it was why. I guess even back then I had trust issues. My Dad's response to my incessant questions was to buy the World Book Encyclopedia set when I was five. He would, from that point on when I asked a question, point to the set and say, "Look it up." Which, I did. Pretty soon I was reading the Encyclopedia for fun.(I was a weird kid, but more on that in another post) Finding out the truth for myself became somewhat of a life obsession.

I grew up in church. My parents were the head Deacon and Deaconess by the time they adopted me, so we were there before everyone showed up, and after everyone left. It seemed like we were there fifteen times a week, but we weren't...I was fourteen years old...in my second year of college(I told you, I was one really weird kid) when it finally dawned on me what being a Christian meant...especially what it meant doing without. Read I Corinthians chapter 15...it presents an a priori argument for the Resurrection with an interesting caveat...if it's a lie, your not miserable, you're "...of all men most miserable." So, "...eat and drink, for tomorrow we die." I took that as quite a challenge. I spent most of the next two years studying comparative religions, with a strong dose of philosophy. I concluded, at the end, that Scriptural Christianity made the most sense to me. I soon discovered that the Church, however, was not necessarily the most conducive place for the pursuit of Scriptural Christianity...especially from a now sixteen year old punk in his fourth year of college asking..."Why?" after a certain sermon from the pastor one morning.

The lesson that Sunday was how Jesus didn't turn water into wine at the marriage feast in Cana, he turned it into grape juice. The sermon was complete with the requisite overhead projector, charts, graphs, examples of how the Greeks used fermented grape paste to make differing strengths of wine, with the word for wine in Koine Greek thrown in for good measure.

The passage is John chapter 2:1-12...go ahead and read it...I'll wait...

Done? Good...if you have any life experience at all, you can see why his sermon caused problems for me.

I go to the pastor. Tell him I have a problem with the sermon. He asks what my problem is. OK.

They're three days into a wedding feast...run out of wine...Jesus' mom comes and tells him... like, what?...he's going to hop on his donkey and run to the local 7-11 for more?(By the way, that should show you this wasn't his first miracle...think they ever ran out of stuff at Jesus' house when he was growing up?) He has them get Kosherly purified urns and fill them up to the brim...then immediately serve it...now, no one can say there was any wine left over in the urns, or that someone slipped some grape paste in after...besides, look at what the ruler says to the bridegroom...he saved the best for last...

The pastor wants to know if I drink...I tell him not much, but I've already bar tended parties for friends. Everybody like it when the anal retentive control freak tends bar...no weird hallucinogens are going in...I tell him I've done more than one margarita night...you start off with Cuervo Gold, then down to the plain wrap tequila...pretty soon you're using vodka, rum, gin...by three o'clock you're making margaritas out of beer. The drunk people don't notice, but if anybody even half sober shows up, well...let's just say they can tell right off these aren't high quality margaritas...I tell him the context makes it clear what Jesus made...

His last line of defense..."If you could read Greek, you wouldn't question me...you're wrong, but I'm not going to discuss it any more with you."

I was, from that point on, pretty much the Anti-Christ at my church. My best friend was the pastor's nephew...he lived at the pastor's house. He'd shown me the bottles of wine that the pastor drank with dinner...no Welches in the bunch...and the pastor knew that I knew...you see, drinking is one of those denominational sins...he didn't believe it, he just taught it to keep his job...

One good thing came out of the experience. I taught myself Greek...then Hebrew...I told you, I have trust issues. I made sure no one was going to try and pull that little number on me again.

By the way, if you're curious, the Greek word for wine in that passage in John is
oinou...just means wine, not table wine/grape juice...

Here's the real moral of the story...when it comes to a subject as important as your life, and how you're going to live it...think for yourself...just because someone, including or especially me, can read Greek and/or Hebrew, it doesn't mean they're right...

1. CONTEXT


2. CONTEXT


3. CONTEXT

Read the passages for yourself...ask God for wisdom...just don't be surprised if He drops a Philip in your chariot...