How do you undo 23 years of thinking? How do you crawl out from underneath that thumb?

I’m sitting here at work and people are discussing the new Chronicles of Narnia film that’s coming out next month. They’re throwing around all sorts of erroneous information about Lewis & Tolkien – “Apparently, it’s a series. There’s like 3 or 4 books.” – and my instinctual, jump-the-gun reaction is to correct them with my extensive* knowledge of the subject. (*extensive = I’m a Christian, so naturally I know more about Lewis than you do.)

Do you see how pervasive this mindset can be? How easily I have been deceived into thinking there was no need for second guessing?

This morning as I drove toward the freeway, I caught an awesome glimpse of the moon. Just an orange sliver, hanging timorously above black silhouettes of faceless mountains. It was strikingly reminiscent of an incident from nearly two years ago, on the other side of town. I had just moved to the area and had hooked up with a guys’ group that discussed faith and the Bible and how to best hide sinful erections. After leaving the discussion, I was elated because I felt like this would become my core group of friends, something I had a great shortage of at the time. I was listening to worship music and driving down a sharp hill in the rain, singing along of course, when I looked to my left and saw an oversized, bright yellow full moon. It was beautiful, and I began to pray and thank God for such an awesome symbol of his love.

When I looked back onto the road, I had a bit of a start. I was about to veer off the road entirely, so, naturally, I freaked out and overcompensated by swerving hard to the left. The effect in the rain was not so good. I ended up doing a 180 at about 55 mph and backing into a sandy hill, only meters away from a guard rail and steep drop off into a canyon. There wasn’t too much damage – a few scratches and a blown tire – but someone did see the accident and called 911. Get this: after explaining to the officer that I had only glanced away for mere seconds to view the moon and lost control of my car, he issued me a ticket for failure to maintain a lane. Is that even a legitimate traffic violation? I mean it’s not like I damaged anything except for my car and my ego!

Anyway, at the time I remember being both bitter that my non-accident ended up costing me several hundred dollars (it didn’t help that I later forgot about the ticket and missed my court date), and also relieved that things didn’t turn out much worse, which they certainly could have. I attributed the accident to demonic forces – yes, I was that kind of Christian – and thanked God for sparing me.

It’s a perfect example of how a worldview so heavily influences one’s response to circumstances. Put twenty different people in that same situation, and I’m sure you’d have 20 different interpretations on why it happened, or whether it even matters that there be a reason for it.

This is strange territory I’m entering. For some time now, I haven’t felt right praying, because I no longer feel confident in who I’m praying to, or that he (or she, it) even hears or answers prayer. But I still find myself whispering thoughts into the air as though words exist in a separate dimension where they have the power to influence my present reality.

There is a certain safety in playing the game of Christianity – the security of always having a reason, an answer, a God to boss around with prayers. But the answers are still vapid, the satisfaction empty. Somehow, I have to press on, thinking outside of the parameters of modern Christian faith.

Ultimately, the whole car accident was just a headache-inducing fiasco. I’m still not sure what to make of it… though at least one good thing came of it. I no longer steal prolonged glimpses at the moon when the result might be my death. Or a damn ticket.