In the Beginning, there was Rush Limbaugh. Thank God Kierkegaard Came Along.

If you love goodness, truth, and beauty, you should read this pretty lady’s new blog.

renegade~betty

I was raised in the stereotypical conservative evangelical Christian home. My parents had a loving and healthy marriage my entire childhood. I grew up on sunday school, Focus on the Family, and my mom’s Republican talk radio shows. At three my father taught me to say “I’m a right-wing conservative and proud of it!”. As disturbing as many of these facts may be to some of you (including myself, and probably my parents who have a somewhat different outlook on the world now), I was also raised to think for myself. I know many people think that it isn’t possible to be raised a conservative evangelical, and be raised to think for oneself, but it is, and my parents did it pretty well. In early grade school I remember asking my dad how we knew we were right about God and Hindus were wrong since both religions believed with equal…

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Why the greys?

First of all, I chose grey over gray, because grey just looks and feels more grey to me.  I think about an old TLC special I watched called The World of Dogs or something like that, and remember the segment on greyhounds being augmented by a background of fog and an overcast sky.  Just one more way the media is infiltrating my life and conditioning my thinking, and years down the road at that.

The greys are also what I see much more of in life than blacks and whites.  In fact, I think the greys permeate and even constitute our thinking on the most important things: theology, philosophy, politics, art, etc.  If this were not the case, it seems to me, there would a lot less arguing in the academies and churches and polities.

But it’s a fine line.  I find the greys both liberating and exciting and a bit terrifying.  After all, they simultaneously provide the freedom to explore and question and live a philosophical life, but they also demand humility and a recognition of the fact that I might just be dead wrong.  In fact, I am dead wrong.  On a lot of things.  Which ones?  I couldn’t tell you.  I am a very opinionated person and neither accept nor abandon commitments easily, but I must be willing to allow that, as a fallible, finite human being, some of my most deeply held beliefs are probably wrong.  But I, just like everyone else, am doing the best that I can with what I have, and I am convinced that that is enough.

As Derek Webb laments in “The Truth”: “Maybe there’s no grey and I was wrong to tell ’em so.”  A frightening thought, but I think there is some grey.  And there is grace and redemption in the face of our misplaced trust and unjustifiable opinions and failure to recognize the greys for what they are, and maybe even a black and white or two.  After all, as Mr. Webb concludes, “The truth’s not contingent on me.”

I take great comfort in that.