“…but you can’t take the gospel out of me.”
The thing I’m continually struck by, I think, as I think about me and my friends (and I don’t know the full stories of where they’re at right now), is that in the midst of everything, we don’t really know what we would do without the gospel.
I think we ask, we get angry, we weep, we dialogue, we read… and we don’t really know where we’re at or where we’re going. But when you get down to it, we love this story. We can’t imagine defining our lives by anything else. We are captivated by this mission. We want to hear, see, breath, think, speak, live the gospel. Because that’s the only thing that still makes sense to us.
And I wonder if there’s a sense in which that’s true for most people. If there’s this place you can be where you just know too much and it would be very hard to look at the world and NOT see it through this primary lens. If it would be possible to ever rest from pursuing God when you’ve imagined the possibility of truly good news. I mean, really–to who else would we turn?
Maybe I’m painting them with my own brush. But I think to an extent this is probably true–or else why would we be so set on pursuing these questions? We can’t just opt out of Christianity because we don’t know what to do with it all the time.
You can take our confidence out of Scripture, out of community, out of prayer, out of the gospel itself some days…
But you just can’t erase the gospel from our hearts.