My uncle passed away this weekend. He was in his late fifties.

I will miss him, but I hurt more for his wife and daughters. They were (are) a close family, with lots of supportive friends, so I hope and believe that all will be well for them.

My one-legged diabetic uncle is in the hospital. He's in quite bad shape-- bleeding ulcers in his stomach. They won't know how bad it is until sometime later today. I spoke with one of his daughters, my cousin, to ask the obligatory (though no less heartfelt) "Can I do anything?" Of course I can't. So I told her I'd pray for them.

Me. Pray for them. "The effectual fervent prayer of a righteous man availeth much," but what about my prayers? They are a joke. I think of the bit from West Wing when the President's secretary (Lily Tomlin) tells the First Lady (Stockard Channing) that she had been praying for the safe return of the First Lady's younger daughter from the hands of terrorists. "Of course," she adds, "I'm not very religious. So there's some chance my prayers might be taken as an affront. So if God is a vengeful God, I might have actually done more harm than good."

I know exactly how she feels.

"Which of course," says my Inner Presbyterian, "is why we pray in the name of Jesus. His is the righteousness that lets us approach God. His is the intercession that makes our prayers effectual." But what if your life makes it clear that you have your doubts about Jesus? May I still hope that He will intercede for me with the Father? Am I one of those who says "Lord, Lord" to no avail?

So let me just ask: would somebody out there who's on better terms with Jesus than me please pray for my uncle? His name is Chuck. He has a wife (my father's sister) and three grown daughters. He's a bright, lively man, and when I talked to him the day before yesterday he was looking forward to his youngest daughter's wedding in March. Please pray that he will live to see it, and recover to enjoy it. Thanks.

It sucks to not quite believe enough.

I listen to some Reformed sermon or other (downloaded off the internet) more days than not. They all say fairly similar things: I am saved (if I am) by grace; my salvation should show itself in movement toward holiness, by which is meant adherence to the Bible in my behavior. No, I don't think I'm supposed to be perfect. But I'm supposed to be, well, obviously different.

One of the differences that I'm supposed to evince is commitment to a church; or, more precisely, a church that lives and preaches sola scriptura and all that it implies. The kind of church whose commitment to Jesus and the Scriptures is absolute. From the secular standpoint, that is, the kind of church whose members, when asked, will voice the kind of opinions that the media categorizes as "socially conservative".

This will not fly at my house. It's not that I haven't tried. "Look," I've said to my wife, "at this church's commitment to Jesus, to giving, to living in a way that anticipates the kingdom of God."

"Look," she responds, "at these articles I've googled that report how ministers in the same denomination are firing gay church employees and trying their damnedest to deny basic civil rights to homosexuals."

What do I say to her? Plead that their motivation is love? She's not buying that, even when I can.

Of course it's deeper than the one issue. She doesn't believe in the resurrection, doesn't really see what it is she would need to be "saved" from by Jesus' death, certainly doesn't trouble herself about "what the Bible says". And I have a hard time getting too worked up about that. Am I really supposed to warn the person I love and respect more than anyone else on the planet that I fear she's bound for hell? I can't bring myself to believe that, let alone say it with a straight face. Yes, I feel (at least most of the time) that she's mistaken about these things, but it seems to me an honest mistake. Me in hell? Sure. Could happen easily. I am a worm. Her in hell? God wouldn't let that happen. She is honest and upright and kind. If she's "rejecting the gospel", that surely has a lot to do with growing up in a place where she regularly got picked on for not going to church. (Think about that the next time you're lamenting how "hard" it is to be a Christian in America.)

And while we're on the subject, what about her parents? Also honest and upright and kind. And atheists. They come from the rural midwest, and are doubtless reacting to a lot of what passed for Christianity there. Whatever the reason, they disbelieve in God but believe wholeheartedly, so far as I can tell, in the good. They welcomed me into their family with open arms. I watch them pour out time and love on my wife and I, on our daughter, on their visually-impaired son (who, incidentally, professes Christianity). I turn to them for advice about all manner of issues. Am I really supposed to warn these sweet, wise people that they are under God's curse?

The fact is, I know an awful lot of people whom the Bible (or at least, my theology) would deem to be lost sinners, whom I can't quite see as "lost". I love my friends and family, love them, love the rebel streak in them, love the middle finger that flies up when someone tries to tell them how to think. That's not all rebellion against their Creator. A lot of it is rebellion against the pharisees and scribes (deep in your hearts you know who you are), and I hope God rewards it.

Why doesn't this blog have more posts?

Because blogging is a sin. No, seriously. In my case it is. I have no time to do it at home. I can only find time at work because I have an (obviously undeserved) measure of privacy here. So I take unfair advantage of my employer and, from time to time, write a blog entry. I'd like to say I use my lunch hour, but (here's a surprise) I like eating more than blogging. So.

Now that I'm in the fire, I might as well tell you that I've begun attending a PCUSA church. They're "between pastors" now, but I'm okay with that. I read the last guy's sermons. He was probably a very good social activist, might have been a good speaker and pastoral counselor, but his theology as expressed in his sermon transcripts left something to be desired.

What's wrong with this church? Nothing, probably. I have yet to see any "Sophia worship". They read the Bible and pray. I'm guessing the next pastor they hire will not be a gay woman-- not that I would have any problem with that per se. Honestly, I could happily sit under the preaching of a lesbian who volunteered at Planned Parenthood in her off hours-- I'd feel she had something real and valuable to say about suffering and patience!-- if only she would preach Christ and Him crucified when she stood in the pulpit.

In fact, that is my problem: I have (at least intellectually) a primitive, bloody, high Christology, and a frighteningly firm conviction of my own sinfulness and need of a Redeemer. I am less convinced about the culture war junk. So where might one find a church that preaches a robustly Reformed conception of the person and work of Christ, but takes a more liberal stance on the culture war?

Nowhere. It doesn't exist.

There's a message for me here, I realize. Can I plead that I'm not ready to receive it? I have already tried going to an Orthodox Presbyterian Church, tried (at least partially) submitting myself to the Reformed notion of Christ's Lordship. It nearly led to divorce, or something worse.

So can I tell Jesus "No, not without my family"? I am a sinner, with a sinner's heart, but I think I can say with some honesty that by His grace I'm prepared to take up a cross and follow the Lord. I am not prepared to hand out crosses to the people I love-- to have to explain to my kids that their parents' marriage is in shreds because Mommy and Daddy couldn't come to terms about religious issues-- to give my wife cause to regret marrying me, because she thought she was getting sensitive new-age guy, not a Bible-beating neanderthal.

Sensitive new-age guys seem to be a significant population in the PCUSA. Our sprinkling of lightweight theology and liberal biblical interpretation will no doubt coat us in a crispy, flaky crust when we're all fried up together in hell (HHOS).