Framed by Faith » children

Romans 8:38, 39
For I am convinced that neither death nor life,
Neither angels nor demons,
Neither the present nor the future,
Nor any powers,
Neither height nor depth,
Nor anything else in all creation,
Will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord.

The Apostle Paul seems to go to great lengths in order to assure us that God’s love is greater than anything that would attempt to keep us away from him. It’s a wonderful verse, and I believe it with all my heart. But most “Christians” don’t.

What can separate us from God’s love? Can hell? Are those that are in hell now on the outside of God’s love? How can he still love them and burn them forever?

I work in an office, and most of my day involves the use of a computer. So an interesting thing happened to me today. After an hour or so into my morning, I had just finished a brief meeting with someone and was making some notes after she left. Suddenly, I couldn’t write. My right hand became weak, my fingers tingled, and I couldn’t grip my pen. When I tried to write, I couldn’t write clearly, and my hand would twitch or move in a different direction.

A stroke? I wasn’t sure. I had no other one-sided symptoms. I shook my hand by my side and retried to write. Still nothing. I remember being more annoyed than scared, thinking I would have the tedious task of learning to write and type with just my left hand. All this in a span of five minutes. I work for a doctor, but I didn’t want to tell him because I figured he would want me to go get a CT scan, and, with no insurance and little money, that was seriously out of the question.

So I toughed it out, and a few minutes later, I attempted to write a receipt for someone, cleverly disguising the fact that I may not be able to complete the task. But I did, however slowly, carefully guiding my hand through the motions — not some of my best writing, but legilble. Still a few minutes later, and I seemed to be returning to normal. My hand was tired, and a little sore, but now I had time to reflect. Was it a stroke? Carpal tunnel syndrome? Then I remembered that I had seriously tried to beat my wife’s score in a Yahoo game the night before, which involved some furious clicking with my index finger. So then I rationalized that I had just strained a tendon, and some wrist or hand movement this morning set the nerve off and running.

Then I wondered how my grandkids could click on those games for hours with no apparent discomfort — oh right, I’m almost 62 with gradually increasing arthritic hands. Get a grip, Steve! I did talk to the doc later about it, though, and he pretty much agreed with my self-diagnosis.

But for a fleeting moment I had experienced something that was out of the norm, accompanied by thoughts of life-changing consequences. What does it mean to “get a grip?” Some things won’t return to normal in five or ten minutes, a day, week or year. What then? I know that every beat of my heart, every twitch of my finger and every breath I take are under the purview of my loving heavenly Father. Would I still be able to make this statement if it had been a stroke?

I hope so. I’ve have three heart attacks, so I know something about life-changing events. And I believe that everything we go through has a purpose; we just don’t always know what that purpose is, or if what we’re going through is meant to work a desired effect in us — or if someone else is being affected through our experience.

My prayer life is quite simple. It daily consists of “help me” or “thank you.” Everything in between can be attributed to meditation, or keeping quiet, in case he has something to tell me. When the alien hand thing happened this morning, I prayed for wisdom and strength to get through it. After it was over, I thanked God for giving me my life back. I know that there are greater tests yet to come. But each time I trust him to help me get a grip.

Until the mad scientists figure out how to create humans without need of opposite gender participants, each of us owes our existence to the consummation of a “loving” relationship between father and mother. And because we are not only physical beings, but spiritual, we are taught to assign a gender to heavenly (or devilish) beings, be it gods, angels or demons. These are necessary pronouns to complete our dialogue, such as “He loves me” or “She tempted me.”

So unless we are Greek god/goddess worshipers or feminists, we are likely to regard God as “he,” along with his son, Jesus and the only angels mentioned in the Bible as guys. That being said, if we are to speak of God in the third person, how do we address him/her? Or do we just never use the pronoun? Does any of it make any difference to God?