David McElroy

Not everything I believe is rational, but most of it is.

Most of my world is solid, material and fairly predictable. Almost everything has an explanation if I look long enough.

But as much as I hate to admit it, there are things which I can’t explain — and I often find hidden meaning in those unexplained things. Some of those inexplicable things have felt holy at times. Others of them have felt evil. Some have felt ambiguous and baffling. (I have a collection of stories which I rarely share.) But something in me looks for meaning in these unexplained experiences.

I know this is a common human trait. (Apophenia is the psychological term.) I’m rational enough to know I might be looking for meaning in things which are really just random and meaningless noise in some quantum field. But I’ve had two experiences this week which leave me feeling as though someone’s trying to tell me something.

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I can’t write poetry. I’ve tried to write it, but my efforts have always been terrible.

I can’t write music. I love music and I’m deeply moved by its magic — both words and lyrics — but I have no talent for writing songs.

I tried to write poetry and music when I was young. I even have a few samples of my attempts at verse. They’re awful but even through the awfulness of the bad art, I can feel the anguish of what I was trying to express when my pen wrote the words on paper.

For most of my life, I’ve felt a deep sense of longing. A sense of need. A panic. A fear. An emptiness that craved filling.

When I feel that — as I desperately do tonight — I feel an incredible urge to express it. My heart feels as though it’s going to explode in my chest. There’s so much I want to say — to express, to feel, to confess — and words aren’t ever enough.

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Although my theological roots are completely on the Protestant side, I don’t have the romantic view of Martin Luther and the Reformation that many people seem to have.

Today is the 500th anniversary of Luther nailing his 95 theses to the door of All Saints’ Church in Wittenberg. That event was the start of a movement against the authority of the existing church. Luther challenged much that was wrong in the church of his day, but he got enough wrong that I’m uncomfortable holding him up as a hero for God.

Many Christians around the world celebrate today as Reformation Day and the 500th anniversary has taken on great significance for some, but I find myself looking at it in a different way. I don’t really see much to celebrate.

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