Every time God shows up and does the miraculous, I rejoice and then cringe at my unbelief. You would think after a year of seminary I would have this down. I don’t.
I teach Bible studies to those who have attended our church a handful of times or more and have expressed an interest in learning more about some of the finer points of Christianity. We get together at their place or ours, have some coffee and munchies and dissect the Scriptures.
I spend a fair amount of time praying that God would open their understanding. I also worry too much about “hitting it out of the park,” as one of my former pastors used to say, when a walk-on single would do.
I’ve had more than my share of these inadequate moments lately. I feel like Moses, kvetching about being slow of speech and completely the wrong person for the job. God keeps showing up, despite my humanity, my doubt getting in the way. Despite my run-on sentences, digressions, even nearly burning down the apartment when I forgot to open the damper, the people whom I’m privileged to teach respond to the Gospel. One person was baptized last month, at least one more will be baptized this Sunday and this unlikely evangelist keeps trudging onward, scratching his head and giggling all the way.
For after that in the wisdom of God the world by wisdom knew not God, it pleased God by the foolishness of preaching to save them that believe. (I Corinthians 1:21, KJV)