Still open to dazzle

 None of us want to become obsolete, although it does seem at times that life is passing us by. New discoveries, new songs, new fashions, new ways of being in the world surround us. And our kids and grandkids get it. Take an obvious example—technology. I love what my computer does for me and I’ve explored the Internet, to a certain extent. But when something goes wrong or when I need help to find something out there in cyberspace, I have to call on my grandson. Because he knows. I don’t.

And I’m glad for it. Those of us with grown kids and grandkids want them to be able to surpass us. We want them to travel down roads we didn’t know existed. We gladly pass the torch to the next generation and ask them for help when we need it. We’re glad for all that, aren’t we? At least most of the time.

My kids have gone beyond me in many areas, including spiritually. The image of the old wise elder going on before, showing the way, is maybe sort of true. But not completely. Both my son and my daughter are experiencing spiritual discovery and growth that almost seem exponential. Some of the grandkids are following the same path. It delights us, their parents. It also makes us somewhat nostalgic.

I remember in our young adult years, and even up into middle age, all that we were discovering and experiencing about the work of the Holy Spirit, spiritual gifts, ministries of healing, and so on. We believed in miracles and prayed huge fantastic prayers. We became lost in the wonder of worship. It was beyond exciting.

Oh, we came down for air often. Life on the spiritual heights is not sustainable for long periods of time. But the mountain of new spiritual experience was there and we were believers.

We did, indeed, suffer a few extremes that needed tempering. I remember a book a small group of us were reading about the ministry of exorcism, new territory for us. I believe the title of the book was Pigs in the Parlor, and it focused on demonic activity even in local churches. It taught us our authority in Christ and how to cast out demons.

Sound scary? It was. But we took it all to heart and began to practice, first of all on each other. We discovered new freedom from fears and traumas from the past. But I think we took the whole thing too far. For a time, we were finding and casting out demons everywhere.

For me, it all came to a stop one afternoon on the Bolivian altiplano. We were participating in a small church gathering of rural believers. The teacher, a local pastor and good friend of ours, was giving an early afternoon sermon. A little old lady, sitting on the ground in the front row, had gone to sleep. A normal thing for an older person to do after lunch. But Pastor Germán wasn’t going to put up with it. So, in a loud voice that startled the poor lady awake, he cast out the demon of sleep.

At that moment something popped in my brain. “This is ridiculous!” I said to myself. And it was. That dear woman was no more demon possessed than the blanket she sat on. From that point on, Hal and I began to pull back and apply some rationality and common sense to all that we had been learning and experiencing.

Now in my latter years, I find that I still believe in a God who heals. I even believe in the ages-old Christian ministry of exorcism when that’s appropriate and necessary. I still believe in miracles, but I prefer the more hidden everyday kind, the ones you miss unless you’re very attentive.

But our kids are on a different path of discovery and I think they’re traveling with more wisdom than we had. And, like I said, it all makes me a little nostalgic. Excitement is fun, if you have the energy for it.

A few months ago, I was preparing for a doctor’s appointment. My doctor had been experimenting with different drugs to help alleviate the condition I had been suffering [see last week’s blog]. I wrote this “Pre-Appointment Prayer,” wrestling with some of my faith/healing/miracles questions.

Pre-Appointment Prayer

I used to think miracle meant
water to wine,
weather control on a massive scale,
taking tea on the lake without benefit of a boat.
In order to be legitimate,
miracle had to thunder, blaze,
astonish and dumbfound.
Nothing short of amazing would do.

Now my imagination has simmered down
and my prayers for healing
are less demanding. I’m willing
for miracle to mean the discovery
of a medication that helps.
I’m OK with a lightening
of the symptoms without knowing
the causes. Mild miracles might
be within faith’s grasp these days.

In other words, I’m willing to settle.
But, and please hear this,
I’m open to dazzle.

Willing to settle but open to miracle. That’s me these days. I wonder if my tempered spirituality is a sign of a wise old age. Or is it a signal that I need a new out-pouring of the Holy Spirit? Or maybe both?

I do know that I’m not willing to settle for obsolete. Maybe it’s time to follow my kids.