Each Christmas season, Jesus-followers reacquaint themselves with Mary’s song (Lk. 1:46-55) Reading her lyrics, a question nags at me.

If powerful men wrote the Bible to leverage and preserve their own power, can you agree they weren’t smart and did a poor job?

Having recently encouraged a friend to keep coming to church and to continue asking his questions, it was this question that he posed with some disquiet. And understandably so.

Two months post-wedding, I said to Denis, “If I was a boy, I’d be you up!” The door slammed behind me.

We watched married couples and witnessed public demonstrations of affection as they sat together in their pews on Sunday morning. No one ever admitted having trouble, or that life could be thorny and complicated. Marriage looked easy for everyone except us.

When one who has hurt us gets hurt, foolish and scoffing voices cheer us on. “Hover over your fallen enemy! Fist-thump your chest and boot-heal theirs! Your sentences are saws. Go slow with the cutting!” Naïve wisdom shudders. “No, no, we have no enemies” it urges us. “All is well!”

The wise say “no” to both ways. But Why?

Someone wrote to me about their deconstructing and how they are thinking of risking again:

“It is so hard to feel understood by those without a similar past but also by people who have the same past but hold different beliefs than I do currently. There is lots of hiding and lots of fear.”

In response, as I’ll often do, I wrote this prayer:

Sadly, I’d come to think that Christians were the found ones and other-than-Christian people were lost. But I was wrong. All of us no matter who we are can lose our way and need finding again.

Over the years our living room has been graced with numerous people who told us they had received answers—usually complete with proof texts—that in the end answered nothing. Some of them didn’t need to hear anything from us; what they yearned for was that we listen to them and in doing so affirm the significance of their existence, their struggle, their pain.

Many of them had read the books of experts but needed to hear the poetry of prophets and the fiction of the Redeemer.

Expertise helps us but if we are really to flourish we will need wisdom.

Maybe today, you are feeling the pressure to spend your days doing holy things—we may think of things like prayer, singing Christian songs, and reading our Bibles—yet Jesus shows us that there is more ordinary in our holy work than what we may typically imagine.

Ask a philosopher or theologian, "Who is God?" and he or she will use words like incorporeality, omnipotence, omniscience, or omnipresence.

Ask Jesus, "Who is God?" and he will likely answer, "God is like" and then point you to something in the created world. Or he’ll tell a short story with clues about God in one of the characters.