“The LORD is my light and my salvation; whom then shall I fear? The LORD is the strength of my life; of whom then shall I be afraid?”
Psalm 27:1
This was the bible verse that was given to me by my Pastor at Gloria Dei Lutheran Church on my Confirmation Day – May 6th, 1984. This is exactly as it was written on my Affirmation of Baptism papers.
Most people don’t know that I grew up in Ohio in a pretty strict Lutheran tradition – Missouri Synod, in fact. I remember wearing a dress each Sunday to church along with my mother and sister, while my brother and father wore a tie and a sports jacket. There was no clapping in church for singing, playing or anything. We had Sunday school at 9:30. Then a 15 minute coffee break and service was at 10:45. By the time it was done and we chatted with our friends, went grocery shopping at Acme and talked to everyone in town (my town was smaller than Andover and everyone knew everyone), and my dad made either pancakes or eggs for brunch, it was usually around 2 o’clock! All this to say that there was a lot of church on Sundays for me growing up.
Then we had our Lutheran education classes on Monday – called “Monday School” for at least an hour every Monday evening and then an hour of children’s choir immediately afterward. My mother was the accompanist-and so all three of us Matuzas sang! We did Monday school in 4th grade – Baptism; 5th grade – Communion; 7th grade – Confession; 8th grade-Confirmation. I remember having to memorize the ENTIRE catechism for confirmation. The 10 commandments AND their meanings; the Nicene and Apostles creeds AND their meanings. I had to know all the books of the old and new testament among many other things. I did youth group events, too. Some of my best friends were in the church. I was, seemingly, a good church girl.
But, I always had questions. I mean, I read the bible almost every night as a kid and did devotionals from the time I was in seventh grade. I went to bible camps in the summer, young life during the school year, yada yada! I was a star church kid – I loved the idea of Jesus and the miracles and heaven and the whole thing – and I read and I studied and I pondered this whole story about Mary and the immaculate conception and I questioned it all. I drove Paster Ron NUTS. We would start a Monday school class and before he could finish his first breath, I would raise my hand and say, “Pastor Ron, I have a question…Why X?… insert any number of questions of a religious doubter” Somehow, he always managed to take my questions seriously and usually gave me some sort of answer which required me to think outside the box and consider an angle that my young brain had not considered. Usually, this would shut me up long enough for him to proceed with class for at least a bit before he said something else that did not sit right with me. I carried this trait to our church council meetings for three years.
I felt very often growing up that I was a bad Christian…or what is more, I was afraid that I was a bad believer. Sometimes, I would get so lost in the literal weeds of scripture and being so young, not understand the bigger takeaway. When I questioned, Pastor Ron usually thought for a while before replying and then made me feel like my questions were not “bad”, but something that indicated that I was really trying to understand what I was learning. Fast forward to our confirmation ceremony….Each of us in my twelve person class was given a passage of scripture to be read at our confirmation. Pastor Ron chose each one and when he finished reading mine, he just smiled and gave me a big hug.
Twelve years later he would reference it at my wedding to my husband, who was a Jewish immigrant from Ukraine, which he co-officiated in an amazing service with both Christian and Jewish traditions. He made mention of my “inquisitive nature” and how much he appreciated it. Well, I was sure glad someone did because it could be torturous for me!
Maybe he knew that throughout my life, I would always be afraid that I wasn’t a good enough Christian because of my doubt and questioning and wondering. Maybe he also knew that no matter how much of that I did, that this verse would ring true for me for almost 50 years of my life. Through the worst of times, like losing my mother three months before high school graduation to suicide, to the best of times, like the birth of our first child after a late 2nd term miscarriage and being told that I might never have children. (I have been blessed with three!) No matter what has happened in my life-good or bad-the LORD has indeed been my strength and I come back to God on a daily basis. And, I still question everything, all the time.
When I moved to Andover in 2005, I came to this church one Sunday looking for a Lutheran church home. On my first visit, I sat in the back pew on the right side of the aisle on the end… ready to bust out if necessary! People were in jeans; there was clapping; there was laughing (shocking!); the Pastor sat on a stool and was interactive with the congregation! (gulp); but, most of all, the message was one of questioning. Pastor Jon asked us to think about the scripture and what it COULD mean for each of us. I was stopped in my tracks. I could question what I was reading and it was ok? It was ok that I thought differently than the person sitting next to me? I had found my home. (and my seat – I have never left that spot in 15 years.)
I have realized that I will always question, argue, wonder, doubt – call it what you will. However, I understand that this verse is mine however I am packaged. No matter what good, or bad, or pandemic, or natural disaster occurs, the LORD is my strength.
I may drive theologians nuts with my lawyerly lines of questions (I come by it honestly!), but, I have come to realize that this means so much to me and that does not make me a bad Christian.
I am imperfect. I am forgiven. I need to accept that I will just not know everything. I will try to, but, I won’t. I guess that this verse really says is don’t be scared – I got you! Kind of relevant in our current times, don’t you think? God is with you!
Ame Matuza