Something was bugging me and it wasn’t until I was having my hair colored the perfect redness with high and lowlights that it all became crystal clear.
I love grammar, the nuances of past progressive versus past perfect. The passive and active voice, how understanding that can make a person a better communicator-
“I have been abused” makes ‘I’ the subject of the verb, sort of to blame in a way. And passive.
If it is changed to “He abused me,” suddenly, ‘he’ is the dirty culpable dog who did it. Active/Passive Voice- very important.
But to endlessly learn grammar and never ever put it to use is fruitless.
The same can be said of doctrine. I have been reading (far too much lately) on restorative/penal substitution; I went through a lengthy study on post/pre/amillenial end times to see where I fell out; I prayed, studied and wished upon a star for my mind to be changed over to believer baptism instead of covenantal baptism long ago so we could join a baptistic church. And then there was the time when I just had to figure out whether Israel is a separate special group or is the church Israel now.
Eventually we have to ask, to what end?
If the doctrine remains a mere head trip, a way of making sure everyone knows you know stuff- deep stuff then so what? If that doctrine isn’t seeping into our lives in meaningful rich ways, then who cares? And if it is not, then it doesn’t matter where I fall on millennial and baptistic positions. If my belief and understanding doesn’t cause me to get up in the morning loving my Savior and fellow man, who cares? Good Grammar= Good Writing. Good Doctrine= Good Living.
So there I was sitting having my hair turned back to its original color when my stylist asks me,
“Do you go to church?”
“Oh, just an ugly building up the street.”
“What religion are you?”
“What is that?”
As we talked, she told me that neither of her parents had ever gone to church that she never had and that she didn’t know anything about it.
So there I sat, with the big black cape all draped around me and the perfect colored die dripping down my neck telling her all about the Savior of the world. And she never once asked about all that other stuff.