omniscience and prayer, theology and evolution

Peter Kirk has a thought-provoking post entitled Does God know the future? Does prayer make a difference? For me, it's an especially timely post, because I've been wrestling with this very issue lately. If fact, it was a recent post by Henry Neufeld, Dealing with the Theological Implications of Evolution, which nudged my thoughts onto the path that has led me to considering this.

I don't have my thoughts sorted out sufficiently to blog about them yet, so go read Peter's and Henry's posts. See you later.

a violent species

On May 1, 2003, President Bush swaggered onto an aircraft carrier and announced that major combat operations in Iraq had ended.

Four years and more than 60,000 civilian deaths later, combat operations continue. The U.S. has been involved in this war longer than it was in World War II, and no end is in sight.

What's more, this is just one of many ongoing wars around the world. Other wars may not get the publicity of the Iraq War, but to their victims these wars are no less devastating.

We are a violent species. Is there any hope for the human race?

God of justness and mercy, we pray for an end to terrorism in any form. We pray for wisdom that will bring greater peace in our world. We pray for understanding and compassion that will safeguard the innocent and feed and find home for all refugees and all who suffer. We pray for companionship and strength for all who mourn. We pray in Jesus' love. Amen.

(Prayer source: Prayers for Justice and Peace)

a table prayer

Our three-year-old said grace for us tonight as we sat down for pizza:

God is great.
God is good.
Thank you, God
For all the food...
And for the sprinkle cheese.

Amen.

lebanon

Joel at the Connexions blog has challenged other Methodist bloggers to write about the war in Lebanon.

Honestly, the reason I haven't said anything about the conflict is that I don't have any answers. Who is wrong? Who is right? Or are both sides wrong? I don't know. But I do know this: God doesn't like to see any of his children hurting each other.

Thousands of years ago, the prophet Micah foresaw a time when:

In days to come
   the mountain of the Lord’s house
shall be established as the highest of the mountains,
   and shall be raised up above the hills.
Peoples shall stream to it,
   and many nations shall come and say:
‘Come, let us go up to the mountain of the Lord,
   to the house of the God of Jacob;
that he may teach us his ways
   and that we may walk in his paths.’
For out of Zion shall go forth instruction,
   and the word of the Lord from Jerusalem.
He shall judge between many peoples,
   and shall arbitrate between strong nations far away;
they shall beat their swords into ploughshares,
   and their spears into pruning-hooks;
nation shall not lift up sword against nation,
   neither shall they learn war any more;
but they shall all sit under their own vines and under their own fig trees,
   and no one shall make them afraid;
   for the mouth of the Lord of hosts has spoken.

- Micah 4:1-4

Those days, obviously, have not arrived. Is there anything we can do to bring this vision to reality? Is there any way we can make a difference in God's timetable?

As I said above, I have no answers. I simply ask that you join me in prayer over this and other conflicts in the Middle East.

Jehovah Shalom, God of peace,
  of mercy and compassion, of grace and reconciliation,
  pour your power upon all your children in the Middle East:
    Jews, Muslims and Christians,
    Lebanese, Israelis, Palestinians, Iraqis.
  Let hatred be turned into love,
  fear to trust,
  despair to hope,
  oppression to freedom,
  occupation to liberation,
that violent encounters may be replaced by loving embraces,
and peace and justice could be experienced by all. Amen

(Adapted from The Reverend Said Ailabouni's prayer in Prayers for Peace for the Middle East, 2003)

a simple prayer

Grant us, Lord God, a vision of your world as your love would have it:

• a world where the weak are protected, and none go hungry or poor;
  
• a world where the riches of creation are shared, and everyone can enjoy them;
  
• a world where different races and cultures live in harmony and mutual respect;
  
• a world where peace is built with justice, and justice is guided by love.
  

Give us the inspiration and courage to build it, through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.

From Prayers for Justice and Peace

my thin place

A few days ago Melancthon talked about what Celtic Christians called "thin places," and described one such place for him.

I found a thin place during my college days. Coronado Heights is a hill overlooking Lindsborg, Kansas. It was on this hill (or possibly another hill nearby) where Francisco Vasquez de Coronado stood looking out at the prairie and conceded that his search for cities of gold was futile. He had been tricked.

From the top of the hill, one can see a good 15-20 miles in any direction. Even today it's a lightly populated area, mostly farms and rolling hills. Standing on Coronado Heights looking out at it all, I can see why, after creating the world, God said that it was very good.

In the 1930s Coronado Heights got a stone castle in a WPA project.

I'm not sure why, but the place has almost a magical quality for me. When I'm there I not only feel closer to God, but I also feel more open toward other people. I'm an extremely introverted person, but Coronado Heights brings me out of my shell and enables me to connect.

I went to the Heights several times during my years at Bethany College in nearby Lindsborg. One time during finals week, a friend and I went up to the Heights as a stress reliever after an all night study session. I'm not a morning person, but there's something about Coronado Heights in the early morning that can put my mind in a different state. I remember walking the trails around the hill and feeling like God was walking beside me.

One weekend evening when I was with some friends on the Heights, we watched a car winding up the road to the castle. A group of students from McPherson, 15 miles away, had come to the Heights to smoke marijuana. I've never used illegal drugs and don't plan to ever try, but that night I saw the kids from McPherson not as dopers or losers, but as human beings. It made me aware of how much we all have in common despite our differences, and helped me toward overcoming some of the prejudices I had grown up with.

In the spring of my sophomore or junior year, several of us students had a sunrise Easter service at Coronado Heights. For perhaps the first time in my life, the resurrection seemed like a real and present event to me as the sun slowly creeped up onto the expansive horizon. I could almost imagine following the trail around a bend and seeing an empty tomb.

A few years after graduation I had a reunion with my college friend Heather, and we went to the Heights to watch the sunset. Standing on the roof of the castle, talking about old times as the sky turned from orange to red to purple, I saw something in Heather that I had missed before. Our friendship turned to romance and then to engagement. We eventually broke it off before tying the knot, but as a result of what grew out of that evening on the Heights I discovered for the first time what it meant to be truly close to someone.

Last fall, I added a new chapter to my Coronado Heights memoir when I took my wife Nicki there. We had left our son Iain with his grandparents to have a day to ourselves. Another family arrived at about the same time as us, and when we saw their young boy we both thought that he looked a lot like Iain will probably look in a few years. The boy raced into castle and up the stairs to the roof, and we heard his mother call to him, "Be careful, Iain."

There's something almost magical about that place.