Psalm by Reed Whittemore

The Lord feeds some of His prisoners better than others.

It could be said of Him that He is not a just god but an

indifferent god.

That He is not to be trusted to reward the righteous and

punish the unscrupulous.

That He maketh the poor poorer but is otherwise undependable.

It could be said of Him that it is His school of the germane

  That produced the Congressional Record.

That it is His vision of justice that gave us cost accounting.

It could be said of Him that though we walk with Him all

The days of our lives we will never fathom Him

Because He is empty.

These are the dark images of our Lord

That make it seem needful for us to pray not unto Him

But ourselves.

But when we do that we find that indeed we are truly lost

And we rush back into the safer fold, impressed by His care

For  us.

--Reed Whittemore

On a dark winter night of my 50^th year, I want to be in the safer fold. Who doesn't?

But I am aware it may be only a wish. And it seems vital to live with one's eyes open (even, or especially, in the dark!) and without illusions. The randomness, the indifference of nature has gripped me lately and I have wandered in a field of my own indifference and, then, of willful unbelief. One does get lost.

But a faith in certainties, in absolutes, no longer seems plausible to me and I have spent some time meditating on the—it seems to me—unavoidably manipulative nature of belief. We believe because we want to be safe in the dark. We want our children to be secure and healthy, our employers to treat us fairly, our spouses and significant others to act like they like us from time to time. We want the show to come off, and things to go well. It seems hard to deny that the prayers of even the most spiritually advanced are tinged with a little bribery. Or so I cannot help cynically asserting.

What does a faith look like that is not about bribery, that does not rely upon pat and wishful answers to life's uncertainty, but throws itself unreservedly on the  mercy of an unknowable providence? That will be a question to meditate on here.

Nature is indifferent and life is random. Yet I want to believe that God is with us in the darkness. And it may be that this is the essential Christian message--Emanuelle, God With Us. "Fear not, for lo, I tell you, I am with you always." Perhaps He is. But not as a magician relieving us of suffering and uncertainty. Rather, as a companion, suffering with us in the randomness  and indifference of creation. That is the  faith I can muster. But I need that much, at least.