I was also thinking about my place in the universe earlier today, when in chapel (Yeah, I work at a place where we all can go to chapel on Tuesdays . . . don’t judge) they had us read the Heidelberg Catechism. It starts with a question, “What is thy only comfort in life and death?” And then the people respond:
That I with body and soul, both in life and death, am not my own, but belong unto my faithful Savior Jesus Christ; who, with his precious blood, hath fully satisfied for all my sins, and delivered me from all the power of the devil; and so preserves me that without the will of my heavenly Father, not a hair can fall from my head; yea, that all things must be subservient to my salvation, and therefore, by his Holy Spirit, he also assures me of eternal life, and makes me sincerely willing and ready, henceforth, to live unto him.
Yeah . . . that sounds nice, but it’s a load of bunk. How self centered can we be? I count 11 my‘s, I‘s, and me‘s. My only comfort in life is my own salvation? Forget the fate of the rest of the world, I’m saved, whoopee! All things must be subservient to MY salvation? I guess I’m taking it out of context, a little. But I couldn’t read that out loud. I find comfort in a lot more than that. I take comfort in the fact that my own salvation isn’t the most important thing in the universe, even though Christ acted as though it was. And I’m seriously uncomfortable with a group of believers obsessed with defining their faith according to their own short-sighted, poorly worded, theologically systematized, pompous creeds.
Why am I arguing with sixteenth-century reformed theologians? Because my Tuesdays are bad enough without self-important crap like this to make it even worse. I’ve got my own self-important crap to think about.