Of God and Men

Saw this movie tonight, the story of Algerian monks who get held hostage and, ultimately, killed by their Islamic captors. It's not about the captors, though, nor the popularized battle between Christianity and Islam.

It's really about this one question: how far would you go for your faith? And maybe this question too: could you really love your enemy as you do your friend?

I was uncomfortable in my seat in the climate controlled theater. Kept squirming because my knee ached, after a pleasant walk from my house down to the Cedar Lee. I teetered and tottered in my place, trying to ease the pain. So, yeah, I really wonder how much -- even physically -- I could put on the line for my God.

Kneel for God? Nope, probably not. Sit for hours in still prayer? No to that too. Eat soup and potatoes? Tend the garden? Sleep in a single bed? Well, that's all doubtful. And these things were nothing compared to what the monks endured.

The lasting image for me happened when some troops flew over the monastery in a helicopter. The monks rose and sang to God, even as they wondered if they were about to be shot.

I love to sing to God. Love to sing to find God, settle into God, share joy and sadness with God. But sing to God while facing my death? That, I think, is hard to imagine.

What can I do for God? Claim God, first. Claim God unembarrassingly. Even writing this is something, I guess.

For years, I wondered what God would do for me. But now, in this half of life, the opposite is true. What can I do for God is the far more dangerous and interesting question. It really is.