Home Sweet

God, I missed Alabama.

I drove the black 99’ Civic with two doors and lousy break lights to the hanger. The windows were down, the sunroof was back, and I let my wet hair whip this way and that while I listened to “Brown Sugar” and ”Start Me Up” by the Rolling Stones.  

I bought a pair of overalls the day before last and have worn them since. Yesterday, I wore them with a white shirt and  ate tater tots and drank sweet tea with my parents at South Forty off 84. Today, I grabbed an older blue and white striped shirt with a round neck. Who knew a pair of overalls could make an old, striped shirt look so good? Who knew overalls could look so good?

I saw dad pull into the drive where they sale boiled peanuts- warm and salty- in the rear view, and stopped across the Huddle House at the four way light, tap tapping the steering wheel of the Civic. I was thinking, slightly hoping, the Rolling Stones were singing “black sugar” only because it was fitting for the black car with the rolled down windows under the September sun.

I laughed leaning out of the driver’s window when I turned onto the dirt road at the airport. I pretended I was younger than I really am, in a place that I wasn’t. The gate was locked, and dad was buying peanuts, so I leaned back in the seat and kept pretending, because you’re never really too old to dream.

Alabama keeps my soul young: boiled peanuts, that old civic, and the dirt road to the hanger. They all bring back memories of things that were. Good things. Things that wrap your soul up and make it warm like eating lunch on Sunday afternoons at your grandparents, or your first flight in a plane with your dad- if your dad flies.

The first time I went flying with my dad, I kept mentioning all of the “little aminals” - cows. Then, it was a Pa16 Piper, built in 1949, today it’s a Pa22-108 Piper Colt built in 61’. My dad would’ve been in the first grade. “When I was 6 years old and dreaming about airplanes, mine was being built. I like that thought,” he said.

 He talked about how his mom bought World Book Encyclopedias, and he read the pages about planes so much they wore out. Who knows where those books are now? Doesn’t really matter. He has boiled peanuts, dirt roads, and his hanger to remind him. And he remembers it well.

My Bigdaddy’s 1949 MT John Deer sits in the hanger. Looking at it, I remember him ploughing the garden and planting- or pulling us kids on a trailer. I remember using a magnifying glass once to start a fire, and then quickly covering it with dirt before he’d see it. I remember building mud castles, catching tadpoles in the creek, and eating Indian grass. I know my soul isn’t as old as a couple of scars on my legs or freckles on my cheek. It’s younger.

I forget too often how young my soul is. I think it gets bogged down in things that don’t always matter, things I make matter more than they should. But the weight of those things is shaken off on days like today. I say things like, “God, I miss Alabama,” but I wonder if I’m really meaning to say, “God, I missed my soul.”

Anyway, there’s a bicycle and a dirt road waiting for me. There’s a lot to say about it, but before the older parts of me try to understand or articulate it- I’ll leave you with your own memories and your own soul, and I’m sure you’ll understand.

Jesus loves the Rejects

Jesus Loves the Rejects

What is a reject?

“A person or thing dismissed as failing to meet standards or satisfy tastes”

I could try to define “standards” or “tastes” so you could better figure out if you’re a reject or not. HOWEVER, the problem there is that there is no one standard or one taste. Some people have no standards, some people have really strict standards, they vary based on culture, religion, geographical location, ethnicity, and social norms, the same is true for taste.

 We inaccurately say things like, “they have terrible taste” all of the time when we see what they’re wearing, what color they paint their house, or their shade of eye shadow, because in saying that, we take the right to judge that our preferences are superior and those in opposition to ours are “bad taste,” or that our “norm” should be everyone else’s norm.

So, I’m going to say this one thing, and I hope you’ll grasp it. There is no such thing as a reject in the eyes of God, because God is the creator of every culture, geographical location, and people group…and here’s the thing…He’s very proud of His work.

In fact, He’s in love with it.

He created everything in this world, and it is good…whether we understand it, dislike it, or yep, reject it.

God isn’t interested in a “one size fits all.” He isn’t interested in standards, he’s interested in color, variation, and flavor. The differences between us, you and I, well, that’s God showing off what He can do.

He gave you freckles and rounded hips? He gave you a crooked nose? You have to wear glasses? You’re short and “squaty?” You’re long and “lanky?”  Well….I have kid sized feet, I’m too short to reach the glasses on the top shelf, and I have terrible hair in the morning…

And HE loves it.

Hey world, government, and church…Jesus LOVES the Rejects.

In church, we like to use examples like, “Jesus loves the adulterer, and the murderer,” but let’s take it a step farther and say something that is really controversial.

Jesus loves the girl and woman who had a baby before marriage.

Jesus loves the guy who left, and the guy who stayed, when the girl or woman had a baby before marriage.

Jesus loves the skeptics, and the one’s who use their bible as a book end.

Jesus loves those who don’t know how to read a bible or memorize bible versus

Jesus loves those who do know how to read a bible and memorize verses, and have the option to study theology and scripture commentaries, but choose not to

Jesus loves the wanders and the ones sleeping at home

Jesus loves the Christians who doubt and ask hard questions

Jesus loves the people who persecute the Christians

Jesus loves the people in Heaven and in Hell, He’s just heartbroken over the latter

Jesus’ loves is  provocative and it breaks every idea of standard and taste that we could possible harbor against him.

Jesus loves us.

US.

Not just you, and not just I, but US.

And we can try to summarize it, belittle it, standardize it, and push into our cultural norms and preferences, but it’ll never fit into those boxes. Because grace and mercy and love can’t be held in boxes…that’s why they’re held in the human heart, because He hoped that when we understood these things about Him, they'd fill our human hearts, and overflow into the world.

And they'd know love, grace, and mercy too. And He could be less heart broken when his beloved "rejects" are shunned, persecuted, and forgoten. 

why eating crackers and drinking grape juice made me cry

Before I can properly tell a quite simple story, I have to tell a more complicated one. A very, very long one. I apologize ahead of time, BUT this is how stories work: They begin very much complicated and tangled, like a necklace that has stayed in a jewelry box for too long; yet, with enough attention and time, a story begins to unfold...just like tangled knots in a forgotten necklace are loosened. It is really only a matter of time and fumbling enough with the thing to watch it unfold.What's funny about this story, however, is that it isn't just mine. I have a feeling that it might be yours too. Maybe this is my memoir? Maybe this is our memoir?

 I bet you think in this story that I'm the one fumbling with a necklace, story. But in truth, I am the necklace, the very "what tangled webs we've weave" necklace. I am the necklace, and the fumbler is my relentlessly loving Father.

***

When I was 22, I began to struggle with going to the church I had been attending in Auburn since I was 18. I didn't struggle with believing in a Savior, I struggled with getting to that Savior. I had a terrible habit of never reading my bible, not devoting time to memorizing scripture, falling asleep at 2 in the morning praying before bed after studying all day, neglecting going to small groups, very much disliking round tables at Sunday School, and questioning a lot of the things people were saying. I got flustered with posted bible verses on Facebook, and theological conversations/arguments, and always feeling that I needed to do more or be more because my relationship with Jesus was way behind.

I was tired of trying all of the time, because I knew that it didn't matter how much I tried, I would keep neglecting the things I was being taught would bring me closer to the Lord, and into relationship or communion with Him. In my heart there was a war of wanting to know Him, but at the same time, apparently not wanting to know Him, because I didn't want to read a bible, memorize scripture, or lock myself in a prayer room. I just wanted to talk to Jesus under a tree somewhere, and be with Him.

But I heard what it took to love the Lord, to have a relationship with the Lord, and to be accepted into His Kingdome, and I found myself wanting. I was very angry about this realization, because I was convinced that my merciful and loving father was more of a rule maker, dictator, and manipulator. I was angry with Him, but I still wanted to love Him. But I "knew" this relationship just wasn't going to work because I wasn't going to work. I knew who the Father was, but I just couldn't love Him for it, and I knew He couldn't love me for it.

So I lived on the outskirts of His kingdom. Far away enough that I couldn't hear His reprimanding or feel his disappointment or experience being pushed out by the things I couldn't accomplish, but close enough that I knew there was a Maker holding everything together. I was close enough to feel the ache of what I knew I was missing, and the anger against all of the things that kept me from having it. I longed to know Him, and hated all of the things that wouldn't let me.

And in August of that year, I stopped going to church. I stopped reading my bible, I stopped praying, I stopped thinking about the Rapture, or his coming back, or predestination, or what I should wear at church, or drink, or eat, or what the other church members would think of me for my departure and avoidance.

I wasn't alone, though. There were others I met. I wrote them, talked to them in hammocks, or over a beer. We were confused and angry prodigal sons who wanted to go home, but didn't have the means, nature, or the right road to go about getting there.

***

 

In August of 2012, I was 24 and in graduate school taking statistics in an icebox, and I sat behind a cute boy who wore what looked like a 1950's jacket. It was the first day when I realized the cute boy was married to the cute girl next to him.

 

 BUT, I wasn't disturbed. It didn't matter in the least. It had been 3 years, and I knew who I was. I had found myself in the confusion of living on the outskirts of church, and I was...happy. Joyful, even. And while I still lived there on the outskirts, I still longed to know Jesus and to love Him. I was single, I was independent, I was wearing what I wanted, saying what I meant, and spending wonderful night around pit fires or tables with close friends who I loved, and who loved me.

 

And then, one day, the cute boy turned and commented on how cold the icebox classroom was, and I talked back. And he spoke to me the next day, and the next day, and after a week or two, he introduced himself as Monte Baugh. And I introduced myself as Martha Lee Anne. And I knew he loved plants, and he knew I loved writing, and we both knew we loved music and Nashville. It was maybe a month or so later when I realized the cute girl was his co-worker and he wasn't married. And it was maybe a week later, on the last day class, that he chased (literally) me down afterwards and asked if he could take me to get coffee.

 

Fast forward three days later, the weekend before Thanksgiving:  I had locked myself out of my apartment (usual), Monte had been kind and picked me up, and we sat for 4 or 5 hours talking at The Overall Company. I'll never forget when he asked something like, "So Martha Lee Anne, how do you feel about church." and I said something like, "....Well, I stopped going to church because I went through this strange angry phase with God, and I didn't really know how to go back, and I don't know anything about anything, but I think I love Him a lot"

 

"Well, Martha Lee Anne, you're not alone."

 

***

 



I was in Auburn in January, and I had just licked the envelope with Monte's Cincinnati internship address on it. The letter carried a lot of weight, and disappointment, and honesty, and I knew he would be hurt, but I knew it was better to be honest. He'd love me, and I wouldn't love him, and that was that. I couldn't make myself. It felt wrong, but I "knew" it was right, so I did it. And that was the end of the boy with dimples and a kind face.

 

That is, until I was 25 and he came back in March. And he smiled warmly, and spoke more warmly. He forgot and forgave my transgressions against him, and what's more, he became my friend. He told me about his heart, he asked me to walk and talk with him. He listened to my terribly messy and sad stories, and teared up when I didn't, or couldn't... And he pursued my heart relentlessly.

 

He loved me in January when I said goodbye. He loved me in the summer when I was crazy writing my thesis/non-thesis paper. He loved me when I was really very confused about parts of my story. He loved me when I hated it, and I didn't want him to. He loved me when I was annoyed and wanted him to go away...He loved me relentlessly, and it was overwhelming.

 

And in the beginning of July, I wanted to learn the way he loved me because he asked me to. And he asked me to think it over until I went to Birmingham in August. And I just knew nothing in my heart could change, that I'd break his, and that it was sad that he wasted what he though was loving me...on me.

 

A month later, he read a letter to me, and I wanted to cry. Because I knew he loved me, and I believed it but couldn't believe it at the same time. And that was that. but even so, I kept praying for the Lord to teach me about Love because it was very apparent to me that there was so much I had to learn. I watched Monte live, and love, and pray, and cry, and I wanted to love the way he loved. I wanted to love him the way he loved me, and I wanted to love and know Jesus the way he loved and knew Jesus.

 

***

That was a little over six months ago. Last night, I went to church, and I was hit with it again.

 

To love Jesus and to be in communion with Jesus, I needed to study His word ("but what about the illiterate!" my rebellious self was screaming silently), and I needed to memorize scripture, ("I always forget memorized scripture," I said to myself.), and I needed to be more prayerful (......).

 

After that introduction, we practiced examining, applying, and praying over scripture so we could have a hunger for God's word...but I was hungry to just know Jesus. 

 

We read Genesis 22, the story of Abraham being asked to sacrifice his son Isaac, and then we were asked to spend 5 minutes answering the questions on our handout. Monte's answers were good, really good. He looked over, and in a quite defeated voice I said, "I'd get in a lot of trouble with my answers," and he smiled down at me.

 

I know the story of Abraham and Isaac  because I have heard it so many times. I know, I know, I know...Abraham is told to sacrifice his only son Isaac, and just as he is about to do so, the Lord provides a ram that is stuck in a thicket as an offering, and Isaac calls the mountain, "the Lord will provide." I know that Isaac is representative of us, and that the ram is representative of Jesus, and that the point of the story is to show that Jesus will be given as a sacrifice to save us, which is wonderful, but God still looks sketchy asking Abraham to sacrifice his son for the sake of foreshadowing Christ.

 

And this is where I got stuck and frustrated...again.

 

I was so disheartened trying to answer these questions, and I was frustrated with the verse because I couldn't understand God and Abraham's relationship and why God would ask Abraham what he did, and why Abraham did what he did...

 

And then, I considered this: Abraham knew God wouldn't ask him to slaughter his own son because He believed God was good, but I would've been horrified and believed God was not good, or that he was terrible, or merciless...

 

I felt locked out because I know myself. I know I'm messy, I know I'm hard headed, I know I shove my heels in the ground, and I know that when I don't achieve the things I set out to achieve, I beat myself up for it. I feel guilty, I feel I should've done or been more. I take the weight of what I know must be God's disappointment in me, and I carry it to prove that I'm sorry and that I won't do it again.

 

But, I don't and didn't want to live like that, or know Jesus like that. I want to love and know Jesus in the way I love and know Monte, and Monte is so kind, and warm, and generous, and forgiving. He asks so very little of me, and he gives so much. But he's a man, and I know Jesus is more, so I know there is so much more to loving him than reading and memorizing scripture, and doing and being good.

 

I kept thinking it over again and again. Abraham was going to sacrifice his son because he believed God was good, and that what God asked of him was good, and God is good...and he provided the ram for Abraham and spared his son...because that is the good thing to do.

 

And the music began to play, and the crackers and grape juice for communion were set out on a table a few rows ahead of us. And my feet and soul felt so very heavy seeing those crackers and grape juice. It has become more and more and more difficult for me to take communion because I feel farther and farther each time from what I should be when I take it. I don't want to take it, because I never feel deserving of taking it.

 

Read scripture, study scripture, memorize scripture, go to small group, go to church, do this, do that, be this, be that, go without this, go without that.....

 

And I fail. I fail over and over and over. I tried very long to do and be and do and be, and it never worked. I prayed to change, and I never changed. I stayed human, how ordinary...

 

I reluctantly followed behind Monte to get the cracker and juice, and I was angry that I felt no closer than I did before I came...

 

And I stood in place, and I wanted to cry. I wanted to leave the room before he instructed us to eat and drink. I wanted to escape because it was a lie for me to eat the cracker and drink the juice because I couldn't answer the questions on the handout, and the ones I answered were all wrong, and angry, and annoyed sounding, and that was very unchristian of me...

 

I closed my eyes. I shut out everyone. I had some things to say to God.

 

"Why in the world would you ask Abraham to do that? Why? Are you mean or kind? Are you a manipulator? Abraham believed you were good, he did the right thing, he had the right answer, but what about me? What do you do with people like me?! I never would have done it. I wouldn't have trusted you, I wouldn't have slaughtered my son or even attempted to, I would've hidden from you, because I don't know you. I don't know the kindness or goodness of you....but I want to.  What do you do with the people who don't know you are good and who don't have the faith to be in a relationship with you?"

 

And I thought of the fisherman that day who went and went and did as good of a job of fishing as I do. He caught nothing, all day long. And Jesus went to him and asked him to throw his net on the other side. And the man, just like I would've, laughed in his face, and was faithless, and didn't want to because he knew there were no fish to be caught. But Jesus asked him again. And with no faith and no relationship with Jesus, he did it, and despite all he lacked, when he pulled the net up, it was full of fish.

 

And as quickly as the thought hit me, so did the tears.

 

Like when Monte read me that letter at the end of the summer even though I had denied him, and asked him to guard his heart, and was messy, and told him stories and truths about myself, I teared up, eyes closed, holding a stupid plastic cup of grape juice and a stale cracker....because the Love of Jesus was more than I could bear, it was more than I could stand. It was relentless and persuasive. He was that heavy, fullness spreading into my fingers and toes, and leaving no space unfilled.

 

I was exhausted by it, because again, it was contradictory to everything I believe and think about being a Christian and having a relationship with Him.

 

Because I don't have to do or be anything. I don't have to be sinless, or know theology, or memorize scripture, or read through my bible this year, or be in a small group, or do x,y,z. I don't have to carry the weight of my mistakes to prove to him that I love him by being better and trying harder.

 

I don't have to earn it, prove it, or understand it because He gave us the gift of just being in it.

 

I don't have to do it right, I don't have to have faith to move mountains, I literally don't have to do anything.

All I have to do is get my human legalistic minded self out of the way, and just accept and be at peace, AND FREE, in the very simple truth that is this:

Jesus loves me because He loves me and He'll pursue a relationship with me no matter what I do and say or don't do and don't say, and He'll keep at it until He gets it through my thick, hard-headed skull that there is nothing I can do about it...but let Him.

End.

 

 

 

 

 



 

 



Dear little sailboat,

I wrote this letter for a dear friend, but I think it's for you too...


Dear little sailboat,

            Listen to the song, "When I'm With You" be Ben Rector:

I go crazy sometimes,

can you believe it?

Yeah, I swear I'm fine, that I'm alright,

But I'm barely breathing.
 

Thought I could find my way back home,

But I get lost alone.
 

But when I'm with you, I know I'm wanted

And when I'm with you, I swear I can breathe

And when I'm with you,

I know who I am, and who I want to be

 

I'm not trying to be dramatic, no;

Most times, I'm pretty normal

Oh, let's be clear and honest here,
And do away with anything formal,

 

I can fake it on my own,

But I am lost alone

 

You're not crazy, or dramatic- you're a human with a heart. But not "just a heart." You have a chest in your chest that was made to be filled with beautiful things: love, friendships, peace, joy, Christ.

 

Longing for those things is like longing for the best Christ wants for you. So, I endorse it.

 

When you're satisfied, you don't step out of the box. When you're not hungry, food just isn't as good. When you're not crazy, the world isn't crazy either, and as scary and uncomfortable or as unsettling as "being crazy" is, there's something rather beautiful about it.

 

It's like when you were a kid, and you learned to color within the lines. Coloring in the lines was the goal, but instead, you colored all over the place, and you were happy doing it, too. And you used all of the "wrong" colors, but do you remember what happened when your craziness and doing it "all wrong," was finished? Your teacher hung in in the wall, and your mom or day taped it to the refrigerator like being crazy and wrong was beautiful. Like it was something worth keeping.

 

Do you remember when "doing it all wrong," was alright. 

 

I go crazy all the time. I'm really embarrassed about when it happens like when I get mustard or salad dressing on my shirt, in all the awkward places, or when I drop my calculator multiple times in the cashier line at work with a bunch of people behind me.

 

I try very hardtop keep my crazy under wraps, But -honestly- when I see other people's crazy. I get it.

 

yOu wanted to be Loved you miSs yOUr dad or your FRIiend you miss wHo you WerE whEn YOU were tWelVe you lOst your keys on the dAY of an intERview or worKk you yelled at your friend for eating your last piece of your mom's homemade cake SOMEONE LET YOU down or said the wrong thing or FORGOT and you reACTted you threw things...A mess, an absolute mess.

  

And you go crazy. You turn into one of those balls of yarn that's all tangled and weird and "no one wants to mess with." You say a lot of things, really crazy things. Your face turns red, and you get messy. Real messy. But you write me, you hug me with your words, you reach outside of your box. You go to a coffee shop to be alone, you gravitate to only the best books and music. You look for a hand to hold, another heart to trust, you say sorry, you try to make sense of how you went crazy, and what just happened.

 

And then, this happens:

 

You put the dots together and learn something you didn't know before. You overcome what you thought you didn't, you learn to be patient, to say "sorry", or "I love you too." You get under your friends' (who you let in to your crazy) skin.
 

You become this really crazy picture that I want to frame and hang on my refrigerator. 

 

If I'm honest, not being crazy makes me feel better about myself, but the times I've gone crazy are the times I actually remember, and the great things that came with "going there."

 

If I'm really honest, I'm not who I am right now because I had all, or even some, of the answers, or I had the best relationship with Jesus, or I stayed on the sidewalk.

 

I'm who I am now because I accidently went crazy and stepped off the sidewalk, and I asked too many questions, I found other crazy people, and I found who Jesus is versus who I imagined Him to be (I'm still doing that..all of the time). I was the sailboat in Ben Rector's song:

 

I feel just like a sailboat,

I don't know where I'm headed

But you can't make the wind blow from a sailboat

 

I have seen the sun,

Felt the rain on my skin

I've been lost and found, but mostly I've been waiting

 

Oh, I'm out in the waves

I'm hoping and praying, "Please let the wind blow me home,"

Night after night, there's an empty horizon,

And my God do I feel so alone

Sometimes life, most times, I feel like a sailboat

 

.....The only change I see

Lost or found, Let's see

The only difference is believing I'll make it in

  

We weren't made to sit safely on a shore, or tied to a pier. We go crazy because we were built with wild heart, not tamed ones. I think God has a wild heart too, I  mean have you been outside today?

 

And they need to search, to ask questions, and to feel lonely because only then will you become and change, and find love and friendships and family, and Jesus, and  most of all:

 

Who Jesus made you to be.
 

 So lovely, go crazy.
 

Go crazy, and write me all about the beautiful things you learn about forgiveness, sorrow, mercy, grace, and losing your temper. Tell me what you learn about your heart, and your soul: who you want to be, and about who you are. Write me about the terrible things you've done, and how Jesus forgave them. Tell me about the terrible things in this world, and all of the things you're looking forward to in the next. Tell me about being sanctified and redeemed. Tell me about the moment you realized you're really forgiven, and the realization of Him loving you that much was more than you could stand, but you let Him anyway. Tell me how you learned to love your body and all of the amazing things it can do. Tell me what it felt like when your broken heart was healed...

  

Tell me all about the great, big world you found out there you crazy, little sailboat

 

 

love you so much,

Martha Lee Anne









...All I'm saying is, there was A LOT more to be Said

I can't help myself. I watched the debate like tons of other people on creationism vs. evolution.

But man, it was missing a lot. Like, a whole lot.

Bill Nye the science guy was supposed to try to explain how the universe could possibly exist without the existence of God.  And Ham was supposed to explain how the universe can only exist with the existence of God.

Instead, they argued about a flood, and layers of dirt at the Grand Canyon, and how old the earth is. But, they never really talked about how we got here. Not really. Ham said that dogs came from dogs, and that people came from people versus the textbook explanation where people evolved from monkeys.

But no one tried to prove or disprove the existence of a God which is the center argument for creationism and against macro evolution. Am I right, or am I right?

I am pro-creationism. But, I didn't become pro-creationism after reading Genesis.

When I heard the story of Genesis as a kid, I was like, "that's where it all came from," and then things got weird, and I thought, "But how did God do that? What if there isn't really a God? WHERE DID THE DINOSAURS GO!???"

 On a side note, dinosaurs have nothing to do with proving or disproving either creationism or evolution...but for the disbelievers out there...they really did exist. I know! There's fossils and everything!!

Anyway, the point is, I got curious and I started asking questions that I probably wasn't supposed" to ask. Except, I think God made me curious and inquisitive because He has a sense of humor, and He wanted to laugh at my attempts to figure Him out. That's our relationship. I ask "Hey God, I have a question," and He's like, "Alright, Martha Lee Anne, I have an answer...but you'll have to look for it because that's how you get to know me, and that's what you enjoy doing."

God wants to be pursued, you know. He wants to pursue you, but I think He likes being pursued too. But it's a relationship, right? That's how it works.

Anyway.

So, here is my one sided argument using science and logic of why I believe in God. I also believe in Jesus, but that's another set of arguments...another day, perchance.

What was the first puzzle piece that affirmed creationism for me? Well it was a puzzle pieces handed to me in my high school chemistry class when we were learning all about thermodynamics.

The existence of stars, planets, people, animals, plants, and rocks without the existence of God contradicts the first law of thermodynamics.

What does the first law of thermodynamics include?

 Energy can be converted from one form to another, but energy is neither created nor destroyed

Energy and "matter" are interchangeable terms here, as all matter has energy. What does the 2.nd law of ole Thermo mean?  It means that ice can become water, which can become vapor, and then vapor can condense back to form water, and so on and so forth. Plants and animals die and become oil or soil. Do you see where I'm getting at? It's basically "the circle of life" concept but explained in fancier words. Scientists..psh.

 So you see how matter can be converted? Well, matter also can't be created. Weird, I know.

Matter doesn't come from nothing. A rock can come from a bigger rock that broke, or clay packed together, but if you sat in an oxygen less, lightless, vacuumed room for millions of year, I bet a rock would never appear in that vacuum.  A rock could only appear in that room A) if a larger rock were in the room and the person went sledge hammer happy on it or 2) If God created one. Otherwise, the room would forever remain rock-less. Why? Because matter has to come from something. Here's another twist, matter can't come from just anything, it has to come from something either like it, or something that is smart enough to use matter to make it.

But you already know this. If you wanted food, you'd go to the grocery store to the produce section to get fruit that came form a fruit tree, or to the deli to get meat that came from an animal. You would never sit in your room and wait for your shoe to turn into broccoli. Because broccoli just doesn't come from shoes. Sorry (or not, because that'd be so weird) it's just the way it is. You also wouldn't buy a rock and wait for it to become a pizza.

Fruit comes from trees, trees come from trees. It's just like Ham was talking about with evolution. Yeah, Darwin's sparrows had adapted/evolved to have beaks that met the needs of their environment (to eat seeds vs. bugs, etc), but come on, the birds' beaks changed: It's not like they evolved into dogs, or cats, or people. Species adapt within their species, but they don't ever evolve into a new one...There's an order to these things.

On the other side, If a person takes a material (matter) that already exists, he or she can manipulate those materials and create a rock: If I put dirt, and water, and sand in the room with an intelligent being, aka a person, that person could choose to mix those materials to create a rock. So the only way a rock can be created without a rock already in the room? Something intelligent has to create it because we all know shoes are not going to start making mud pies when we walk out...

What's the really drawn out point of the metaphore here?

people come from people who came from people who came from...

If only the human species can come from a human species, where did we come from? And if people can't come from the evolution of microorganisms, then where did we come from? And since Lewis Pasture disproved the concept of spontaneous generation, and we know that horses aren't born from rocks, and that people aren't born out of thin air, then were did we come from? And if the law of thermodynamics states that energy can't be created or destroyed, but only converted...then how in the world did we get here??

Life doesn't explode out of oxygen-less, lightless, lifeless vacuums called space,UNLESS, life was already there. So, the only way rocks can exist without some timeless rock breaking off and making one is if there was something highly intelligent in the vacuum to create it (like the person example, only this time, the intelligence is God).

Sometimes science gets really complicated, so let me tell a fictional story: There once was a balloon that I picked up and pushed my breath into because I love balloons and I wanted one for myself to enjoy. Let's be weird and say that my breath molecules had a consciousness, and one day while floating around, they said, "Hey! where did we come from!" Some of the molecules created a theory that they had always been there. Others believed that they had evolved from small particles that made up the balloon rubber, and then the really crazy ones said things like, " I think there's a great, big intelligent thing our there, that was here before us, and we were created from it, and it put us here to enjoy us."

The existence of an intelligent, complicated, thoughtful God supports the law of thermodynamics, but a universe without Him is contradictory, because without life, there is nothing for life to come from...there'd be nothing at all. And it may sound crazy, but it isn't "that crazy."

The second piece of the puzzle came together for me in my graduate school biochemistry class when Dr. Mathews was throwing pieces of paper around, using a weird word called "entropy."

The existence of the universe without a God violates the law of entropy.

The law of entropy explained why, when Dr. Mathews threw a bunch of papers into the air, those papers went all over the place instead of landing in a nice stack. It also explains why kids marbles roll around everywhere, and leaves fall on your car and not just in the mulched areas.

It explains why mustard from packets splatter all over your shirt instead of in one neat spot. Entropy, you see, is the law of chaos.

Now, let me ask you something: does it look like the universe was created out of chaos?? When I was in chemistry lab and a gas line was left on at one of the stations, the whole room smelled like gas. Why? Because gas expanded throughout the room, evenly distributing itself between the oxygen molecules. Why then, when the universe was created, would hot gasses condense to form planets? That's not entropy, that's organization.

Why does our planet perfectly orbit the sun? You'd say, "Because there's this thing called gravity, Martha Lee Anne.." But here's the thing, gravity didn't exist until there were things for it to exist upon and between BECAUSE  gravity is the attraction based on the mass and the distance of two objects in relation to one another, aka, our planet and sun. So? SO!! That means planets existed before gravity. Which means planets were set in place before gravity ever held them there.

WHAT!!

I don't know if that blows your mind, but basically, this means that the perfectly organized, distanced, and ordered orbits of stars and planets were in place without any influence of gravity. How do things like planets and suns stay in place and in order without gravity there first? My guess would be a big God

 I don't accredit that kind of "random" ordered design to chaos. Design contradicted entropy in the creation of planets when  it caused gas to cool and form planets instead of letting it expand, formless. And intelligence did some crazy, weird things creating and positioning planets before gravity even existed. Or it was so intelligent that it drew some bad A blueprints of a design, and then let the design fall into place, like those people who do cool things with dominos...

 But the point is, the organization of orbits, of eco systems, and your army of an immune system is tattle tale of a creator. A really smart, creative, and intentional creator.

 It's kind of like the water in a river that creates a lake behind a dam. If the dam didn't interfere with the natural law of entropy, there would be no lake, only a running river. But there is a dam, and the dam allows the existence of that Lake. God is the thing that holds everything together (gravity or not), He is order.

I'll end with the last puzzle of the piece. It's called the "deductive argument from contingency." Look it up. I'm still absorbing this one.

It's for the philosopher. Be wary, it makes sense, but it might hurt your brain to make sense of the sense. Read at your own risk. And it says this:

1. A contingent being (a being such that if it exists it could have not-existed or could cease to) exists.
2. This contingent being has a cause of or explanation for its existence.
3. The cause of or explanation for its existence is something other than the contingent being itself.
4. What causes or explains the existence of this contingent being must either be solely other contingent beings or include a non-contingent (necessary) being.
5. Contingent beings alone cannot provide an adequate causal account or explanation for the existence of a contingent being.
6. Therefore, what causes or explains the existence of this contingent being must include a non-contingent (necessary) being.
7. Therefore, a necessary being (a being such that if it exists cannot not-exist) exists.