Lord, What Fools We Mortals Need to Be

I happened upon Dr. Bob's blog quite by chance today. It's called The Doctor is In, and I assumed it was primarily a medical blog, but the post that greeted me this Thanksgiving Day was a very sweet surprise. The doctor was talking  about age, about what happens "when the dreams of youth–once passionate and optimistic–begin peeling away like aging paint, checkered by the weathering of time and the harsh sunlight of life and its limitations."

That struck a chord, but he was also talking about faith and prayer, responding to a commenter named LJ who took him to task for misleading his readers "naive and sheeplike, all–promising them certainty where no such certainty exists."

He was talking about the tyranny of the intellect and about the conscious choice to be a fool.   

What if this is my epiphany, LJ, and I accept the path you offer, rejecting the claims to know what you assert to be mere magical fantasy and pure self-delusion? If I choose the life you offer–the life of “intellectual honesty” and contempt for those less wise, the life of mockery of men so foolish as to pray, the life of lofty intellect, of propositional knowledge devoid of positional experience–what’s in it for me? You see, I am a selfish man, and have no interest in accepting a gift horse without checking its teeth.

But, you see, I have looked in that nag’s mouth. The mane is glorious but the mouth is toothless–the horse will starve, slowly but surely. For I have already chosen the life you offer, and found it wanting, and empty, and joyless, and lonely.

Would I, in accepting your offer, forego a life of joy and purpose, a life rescued from despair and aimless meandering, with everything money could buy and nothing that money cannot? Would I forego the richness of deep relationships, of love unmerited, of surprise at life’s amazing turns and answered prayer–yes, answered prayer–the proof of which you would would not accept but the reality of which is transformational. Would I forego a relationship with a God I now know far less well, but trust far more–not the heinous monster of your imagining, but a God who treasures me–and you–with unspeakable vastness and unbounded grace and mercy? No LJ, I will remain your fool, gladly and with no shame or remorse.

It's a choice I made many years ago when I looked in the nag's mouth too, and found her less than nothing, worse than useless to me, and chose to be a fool instead.

Comments

[Ana]

Beautifully said.

[gail]

Warren pointed out that this is basically Puddleglum's argument for faith in The Silver Chair when the witch tells him there is no above-ground world. Puddleglum is one of the chief reasons The Silver Chair is my favorite Narnia book.

[Julie]

Gail, You're piercing my heart today. In a good way.

[gail]

Julie, I hope you're having a happy thanksgiving!

[Major John]

I sold that horse to the knacker a while ago. I think I am a bit less of a miserable SOB for it.

[gail]

The only thing miserable about you is those donuts.