In his
autobiographical essay, “The Crack Up,” F. Scott Fitzgerald wrote: “The test of
a first-rate intelligence is the ability to hold two opposed ideas in mind at
the same time and still retain the ability to function.” 

And, physicist
Niels Bohr once said: “A great truth is a truth whose opposite is also a great
truth.”
For me, a
faithful life often demands that I live in creative tension—in the push and
pull, the give and take, of truths.
For
instance:
God is vaster and more mysterious than the
universe itself, but God is also as near to us as our own breath. 
God is higher and holier than we can
conceive, but also more loving and compassionate than we can imagine. 
We are born and die alone, one by one, but we
were made for love, belonging, and community.
Jesus was
fully human and fully divine, and he said, among other paradoxical things,
“Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for
things to be right, for they shall be satisfied.”
“Those who seek to save their lives will lose
them but those who lose their lives for my sake will find them.”
“Those who would be great among you will be
servants of all.”
We are made
from the dust of the ground, but we breathe the breath of God’s own life.
We are flesh
and spirit, animal and angle, sinners and saints. 
We are held
to the ground by gravity and have dreams of soaring. 
We have
eternity in our hearts and get bogged down by the details of everyday
life. 
We carry the
treasure of the good news in the clay jars of our humanity.
 
We are free
but responsible.  We have the capacity to
do great good but also severe harm. 
We can be
Madonna or Mother Theresa, Bonhoeffer or Hitler, Bull Connor or Martin Luther
King, Jr.
And, over and
over again, I pray and live this paradoxical prayer: “I believe; help my
unbelief.”