Jumper Cable Testimony

I would like to write something funny; or if not funny, at least witty, to start out this new year.  But my brain is not there right now. A friend asked me today, “How are you doing?”, What I told my friend I confess to you too. Which will explain why I am not writing something funny or even witty. So, may I tell you how I am?

You know how it is in December, at least in my line of work?  December is like pushing your car at 100 miles per hour for 31 days. (Not that I have ever driven my car 100 mph; not that I would admit to anyway.) So, when you go 100 mph, everything, all month is a blur, physically and emotionally and spiritually.  And then it is January. And my car (my brain; my body, my emotions) take a little break for a couple of days. And then it is cold. Really cold. So, when it is time to start the car all you hear is a “whirrr…clunk…whirrrrr…cough, cough….” No matter what you try,  that old engine just won’t start up.  And that is how I feel. So, my friend, who has a quiet yet biting wit says, “I will call Jill (my wife) and tell her to hook up the jumper cables to your brain.”  Hardy har har…

So, on these long, dark, cold nights I read.  I read a review of an old book about faith and reason, “As A Driven Leaf” (1939, M. Steinberg) The reviewer explains that the title comes from Job 13:24-25: “Wherefore hidest Thou Thy Face…/Will Thou harass a driven leaf?” The book ends with the main character reflecting on his life, and he is given to say, “Older, sadder, wiser, I go seeking now, through faith and reason combined, the answer to this baffling pageant which is the world, and the little byplay which has been my life.” (J. Epstein, Balancing Faith and Reason, WSJ, Jan. 3-4,2015)  That sound you hear right now is my brain clunking, trying to get going in this new year. But it is a cold engine without much spark to energize it.  I listen to the stories of dear family and friends and parishioners in these days and I try to respond with faith; but that faith is battling reason.

I cry for my dear ones.  I wait for answers, but like C.S. Lewis, what I get is “ ‘No answer.’ It is more like a silent, certainly not uncompassionate gaze.” (A Grief Observed)  But. But then I hear the song with the woman’s life-affirming, “jumper cable testimony”, “I’ve Just Seen Jesus”. And, for reasons I cannot offer, I believe her (still; again). And I want you to do the same. So I back the car out of the garage.  There is work to be done. So many people I want to help believe that the woman saw Jesus. That Jesus will be seen.