Paradise?

I experienced a thrill, several years ago, after we started attending a church where Bible geeks abounded.

Woohoo, I thought, imagining the way get-togethers with these folks must go. I saw myself arriving at a church picnic and plopping down with friends under a spreading maple near the river. One of our Sunday teachers walked up next in my dreamy scenario, took his place on a blanket, and began to impart hours’ worth of biblical wisdom. We students sprawled around him, tearing bits of grass from the earth while pondering words, contexts, possibilities.

Ah. Bliss.

Real life, however, has looked somewhat different. I attend events with our church group and savor the textures of pasta salads, rice and bean concoctions, and marbled cheesecakes. Friends now long-known ask how I’m doing and I answer, “Pretty good. You? Nice weather today.”

My wise/geeky teachers prepare papers for church and seminars; they “tutor” at great-books Gutenberg all school year; and then they’re available for my random (and rambling) questions after I’ve attempted to study Galatians 2. I wonder whether Paul meant something good when he said he tore down the law.

The next time I corner someone I lay out possible reasonings for what Jesus prayed aloud in Matthew 11. Then I’m into John 8, casting about for a precise definition of the truth making us free.

This manner of instruction I receive doesn’t fit my ideal picture of soaking up life-speak at my leisure. Regular events and busyness force me to shape my thoughts in private and remember the important points – the heart of what I’m grasping at – so I can retrieve and discuss it with smatters of coherency.

I sigh again sometimes over my long lost image of wise counsels spooned on summer breezes. But I think the grittier study-path I wander may be the right one for a particular process I’m supposed to work on. Good work. To follow every season while it lasts.