The Second Shock

I tried to get to bed early that night because I knew the following day would be exhausting. Unfortunately I could not settle myself and so I decided to pray about the upcoming vote. At first I prayed fervent for the “Lord’s will to be done”. Within the first hour I still had no rest, and so began to pray again. Being tired and stressed by the upcoming events, I was babbling my prayers and suddenly caught myself praying that all the pastors would vote against the motion to ordain women. I was effectively praying that all the pastors present agree with my opinion. I realised I had no intention to submit to any decision which went against my own opinion, even if I did not consciously claim infallibility myself.

I then realised that, no matter how sure I was, I could never insist that my own opinion was equal to God’s will, even if I claimed to base my opinion on God’s Word. Every pastor in the conference claimed to be basing his opinion on Scripture. Without calling them all insincere liars I could not insist that my own opinion was, in fact, God’s opinion. At this point I could no longer bring myself to pray for the vote to go ‘my way’. I began to pray for God’s will to be done, and for the grace to accept the decision as His will.

About now I had my second nasty realisation of the evening. I realised that, if I could not trust my feelings and conviction, I could hardly trust the gathering of pastors next morning, most of which had proven themselves halfwits in the earlier debate. (I had, thank God, resisted the temptation to display my own ignorance in the public debate). But, even if they were the wisest men on the earth, they could not claim infallibility even if they acted as if they were infallible.

You see, making any sort of binding declaration that concerns salvation or claims to be God’s own truth, is an act that assumes infallibility. Because, if you are prepared to stake your salvation on something, it must be the surest thing one could hope in. It must be guaranteed to be true!

I wondered, at this point, how I could ever be sure any truth at all. I prayed for God’s will to be done but knew that, no matter the decision on the following day, I could not be certain that it was God’s will any more than I could be sure of my own opinion. I was struck by the presumption of voting at all, that I began to wonder if I should cast a vote at all.

So, uncertain about all things, I wept. Strangely enough, I did not feel uncertain about WHAT was true, just about my authority to insist on it as binding on Christendom. Each pastor, in debating and casting his vote, was assuming a certain authority to decide what the truth of the matter was. I could not, in good conscience, pretend that I knew without doubt the mind of God.

To cut a long story short (well, shorter anyway), I wept and prayed the entire night. I still participated in the standard politicking before the morning session, but I recall fading out and sitting quietly, waiting for the vote. We voted and, as I sat and stood at the appropriate times, I could not see which way others were voting through my tears.

Even as the result was publicly read I realised I no longer cared. It did not matter what decision was made, the presumption of making such a decision at all had filled me with guilt, coupled with anxiety over how I could ever come to be sure of truth at all.

Next: The one about the Anglican, the Catholic and the Three Lutherans