A Confession

Before I publish the last part of my series on the rapture, I must confess something.

No, nothing like that! Get your mind out of the gutter!

No, this is a confession about being torn.

Last week I shared on Facebook that I was having difficulty finishing this series. I wrote that I didn’t want to be mean. I even posted a video from Buckaroo Bonzai about not being mean.

Consequently, during my quiet time with God I sat with my doubts and concerns about this. How can I present a view that is opposed to one that is popularly held without being mean? This is what I wrote in my journal…

I’m still torn. So much of American Protestantism is built on lies. The lies are not stable. They cannot stand. Yet, people cling to them and build towers on them. These people are secure in the lies. The lies are like old friends. They are comforting. They are familiar.

They are lies.

The lies must be destroyed. The buildings and structures built upon them will fail and collapse. People will get hurt. Or, worse.

Some will survive the crash. These will flounder around like fish on the beach. They will try to grasp anything that appears secure. Anything to save themselves.

So, therein lies my dilemma.

The lies need to die.

But, how to kill them without killing the people?

It would be easy if the lies caused real pain and discomfort, like a bad tooth. Then the lies could be removed, like a tooth, and comfort would be restored.

But, the lies are comforting.

There is security in the lies.

There is prosperity in the lies.

Destroying them will be painful.

I don’t want to be vindictive toward those who protect and defend the lies.

Besides, who am I to decide what a lie even is?

Am I not committing the Sin of Certainty?

Yet, that too, is a lie.

There is no Certainty.

Not for us, anyway.

Maybe for God.

No, my dilemma grows.

So I cry out, “Avi! People are being crushed and killed by the Lies! Can we not rescue them without destroying the foundations of their lives?”

Avi replied, “If the foundation is a lie, how can truth be built upon it?”

 

So, I write. I dig. I confront. I can do nothing else.