Heavy On My Mind

Father God: Preston here. Of course, you know that already.

You know me. You know why I’m here. You know what’s on my mind.

I just need someone to talk with—someone larger than me and bigger than all that concerns me. You’re my choice. Thanks in advance for listening.

And Holy Spirit: Just serving notice. My thoughts are jumbled. My words run the spectrum from inaccessible to superlative. Together, this means I’m confused, and even though I wish it was different, I’m aware I’m not making much sense as I think. You say you will help me pray, and if necessary, assemble what’s bothering me into communication sequences that are beyond words.

I wouldn’t presume to tell you what to do, but I’m in real need of something beyond words. In fact, I need guidance and reassurance that are supernatural. That’s where you come in. Please assemble what’s in me and present it as you see fit when you, and Father, and my Older Brother convene to discuss me.

Brother, you know. Gosh! Do you ever understand. My world is descending into utter nonsense. You know all about that, I’m certain. Please help me keep my wits about me. As you did.

Now that I have all three of your attention, I need to take you at your Word and deposit my cares and worries, my anxiety, into your keeping. I want things to work differently, but circumstance seems to be only getting crazier.

Brother, you are the healer. The fixer. The one who knows and understands and holds every atomic particle in order. My friend, Lisa. My, my she’s suffering. This stupid, diabolical virus. It’s playing havoc with her lungs, compromising her future, worrying her family sick, and cloaking her wellbeing in confusion.

You know what I want: I want you to heal her. Just be done with this stupid virus—and all the stupidity it’s spinning off. In all candor, I resent the compromise for someone so vibrant. I would really like this fixed.

However. There’s always a “however” and a “but” and a disclaimer of some other sort when I pray—when I visit with you. I don’t mean to doubt, but I do intend to confess—readily—that I don’t know what’s best and I don’t have any insight into your best judgment. I want Lisa fixed. I want her lungs to work. But as Brother James wrote, I want your will more.

Your will. Hmm. I’ve labored with your will my entire life. There’s a lot of shame in that admission, Father. Sixty-six years I’ve fought the same fight: to trust you. I apologize. I hate the asterisks in my prayers. I celebrate that there are fewer caveats today than there were a year ago, but that there are any feels shameful. I mean, who am I to doubt you? But it would be demented to deny my doubts—as if you are somehow removed from my inward wrestling. You formed me. You know.

Naming my struggle is therapeutic though. The unvarnished honesty helps me identify my heart’s desire within the cloud of circumstance and the dark places of my fleshly leanings. Now that I am in touch with my true desire, I honestly say, I trust you to do as is best for my friend and her family.

Father, no sooner do I sort through my shame and distrust, than I recognize indignancy over a world run amok with nonsense—governed by people for whom I’m supposed to sincerely pray. Maybe my attitude is harsh, but you did ask that I bring everything to you. Some of the stuff infecting society is nothing short of preposterous. I suppose if your hope is in humanity to run the world, a) you are on your own, and b) you have no other option than to spin your narrative into success even if it is chaotic at best. I think the fancy word for this is hubris, an excessive degree of pride.

I don’t know what to do, Father. I guess the answer is as simple as doing the next right thing. I know what you’ve asked me to do—write and walk with you—and I’m very clear about how hard this is for me to do. Please help me remain true to your calling. Help me not be sucked into disdain for those with whom I disagree. Help me exhibit patience while being true to justice, kindness, and humility.

Father, I bring my friend Päivi Räsänen to your attention—the member of Parliament in Finland who is on trial for her Christian faith in you. Päivi. Wow! Should I be hauled before the courts for my faith, please help me summon the courage I see in her.

As you know, her trial begins on January 24th at 9:30 AM in the Helsinki District Court. She anticipates the trial going to the Finnish Supreme Court. How can this be? I don’t understand, Father. Her accusers declare that they are champions of free speech and religious freedom. The law is on her side. Yet, they bring charges against her—unjust charges it appears from my vantage point, and hers as well. How can smart, thinking people say one thing and do another—so blatantly? We believe in freedom—but not for you, Christian.

I start thinking about this, and then my thoughts fragment. No. My thoughts shatter. When I stare at the crystalline shards, I can’t assemble them back into meaning.

I know Päivi is not the first of your children to be dragged before a court. She’s just the latest—one of the latest, sadly. Brother, you know. Please protect her. Give her courage and composure in the face of her oppression. This is my request.

As I reflect on American life since 1990, I can’t help but think about Paul’s words, “Professing to be wise, they became fools.” You can’t reason with a fool about nonsense. Papa, you know. Only light can dispel darkness. Like MLK said, “Darkness cannot drive out darkness; only light can do that.”

Father, I know you are good. And yes, I have considerable time invested in coming to this statement as a personal declaration that I believe. I appreciate your patience as I’ve sorted through my doubts. But I do believe. I know I’m still prone to tip toward doubt and I ask that you help my unbelief. But in Päivi’s situation, I comprehend your goodness.

She’s on trial for her conviction about your Words in the first chapter of Romans. A dozen verses before the one’s she referenced, Paul expresses supreme frustration at having to write to the church at Rome as opposed to pay them a personal visit. Obviously, at the time, Paul probably grasps your goodness, but he obviously is letting you, his readers in Rome, and now me know that he disagrees with how you display your goodness. He had no way of knowing then that his letter to the Roman Christians would be treasured by me today—and millions like me. In the moment, his circumstance was not good. It was immensely frustrating.

Paul’s inconvenience, his imprisonments, and the incredible array of duress he endured must have been mind-numbing to him in his day. I can only imagine he must have pleaded with you to do something. To intervene. To release him. When you weren’t forthcoming, I imagine he must have wondered if you truly care or not. Of course, two millennia later, I grasp your care and your goodness when I hold Romans in front of my reading eyes. But I have a two-thousand-year, retrospective advantage that Paul did not have as he took pen in hand to write the Romans. I assume Paul believed in your goodness, but his circumstance screamed otherwise.

My takeaway? Spirit, help me learn from Paul’s predicament. Father, I know you care about my earthly life. If you didn’t, you wouldn’t have come down here, Brother. Please help me view my earthly life like you view it. I understand that you are working toward eternity, not heaven on earth. I know you care what happens to Päivi, to Lisa, to me, to your children all over the world. But I also know your end game is not this life. Your long game is eternity and whatever goodness serves that goal is your dedicated determination. Once again, please help my unbelief. And for the record: It’s really hard to believe when life is swarming with stupid stuff. Of course, you know that, don’t you Older Brother?

Father, there’s my buddy with prostate cancer. My friend’s daughter is dying. There’s the inflammation in my body that I can’t get rid of. And what is it with my thumb? It hurts like the dickens and keeps me awake at night. I’m having to learn how to be left-handed. Is this arthritis? I’m not old enough for that malady. Am I? Oy vey. But you’re correct. How many falls have I afflicted upon my earthsuit and that thumb born the brunt of my tumble?

Father, Brother, Spirit: I hate politics. Thank you that you didn’t call me to be a politician. What a miserable job in my opinion! At least they get rich doing it, but I’m not sure Tito makes enough vodka for me to anesthetize the duplicity of what they engage in doing professionally. I think of Dave Berry lying to his friends and family, telling them that, yes, he had scheduled his colonoscopy when in truth he had not. In his confession, he wrote, “I was a fraud, a hypocrite, a liar. I was practically a member of Congress.”

So our government has decided to not treat white people who get COVID, while acquiring a monopoly on monoclonal antibody treatment, and then not sending treatment to red states. We’re going to feign care for the vulnerable among us while outright doing whatever it takes to legalize infanticide. What part of genocide are we failing to grasp as civilized people? Of course, the same folks denounce the genocide of the Chinese against the Uyghurs…. Never mind our doubleminded rationale—and I use rationale in the sketchiest of ways, Father God. No wonder Chairman Xi bristles at the disparagement he receives.

I don’t know, Father. There’s little point in regurgitating all my frustrations. However, I will say that the level of tolerance being granted to those dividing us is problematic to me. I’m just frustrated. Really frustrated. Of course, you know this, but this is why I’m here, Papa. I don’t know what to do with all of this. I wish I did, but that wish implies that I am powerful enough, ingenious enough, to remedy these frustrations. I don’t possess any of those capabilities. Of this, I’m certain.

I feel bad dumping all of my angst at your feet. Bad enough at times to hold onto it—like a racoon fumbling with a smooth rock beside the creek. No. No matter how many times I turn the rock over and over, what concerns me is as great as the Fall of mankind. That’s well beyond my pay grade to manage. Now that I’ve thought about it—thought about this in particular—I leave these things with you.

All of these issues. The uncertainties. The suffering. All of it. The escalating murders and violent crime. The empty shelves at my grocery. How do grocery stores in Texas not have steak and tortilla chips?! But, I’m sorry. I’ve inadvertently taken my concerns back into my crabby little fist. It’s enough to make my thumb hurt! That’s a joke, Father. Get it? My aching, arthritic thumb? I mean, just between the four of us, I figure we need some comic relief. Anyway.

Seriously, for all the craziness in this life, there is the constant of your integrity, Father. There’s so much about you that escapes my understanding, but I feel like I comprehend your integrity. It’s simple. If you say something, or commit yourself to something, I’m clear that you are not going to compromise. You are going to do what you say and be who you say. Thank you.

Speaking selfishly, I’m grateful for your pledge of faithfulness.

For instance: I realize that you all—the three of you, however that relationship works—agreed among yourselves to take me into the family. Brother, you executed the covenant by shedding your blood. Spirit, you guarantee the covenant with your indwelling. And Father. My, my. Father, with your pledge I am taken into the covenant, made an heir with my Older Brother, and not a secondary heir, but an heir to everything that you are, all that you possess, and all your holdings.

While I understand the legality of this pledge you made, and the integrity you declare to be accountable to this covenantal agreement between you all, I don’t understand why. I don’t understand why you did this in the first place. And, I don’t understand why you included me, but I’m grateful you did.

I’m quite certain my understanding is less than complete, but still, I understand enough about who you’ve made me to be and all that you’ve given to me to leave me overwhelmed. That I belong to you, am accepted by you, and that you live in and through me is remarkable. I don’t know why you arranged this, but I know you did and that it’s so. Thank you.

To some extent, my concerns are rooted in fear—anxiety that my circumstances will get sufficiently out of hand that I find myself in a place that is outside your grace, your mercy, and your peace. A place where you are not. Of course, when I think carefully, I know this can’t be. But when I’m punch-drunk from the pummeling of this place…? Well, please help my unbelief.

Fundamentally, I concur. This place is not my home, the government is not my future, my finances are not my failsafe, and this life is not my hope. You are these to me. My hope is in you.

Now, like Habakkuk anticipating the Babylonian invasion—good gosh the thought!—I ask that you make my feet like a hind’s feet so that I can live in the high places, where you Father, live and dance and leap. In my heart, I’m grateful that you are present here with me, in me, and through me. But in candor… my, me, me, me in that last line. I’m grateful this is true, but I tire of the theological truth of you with me. I’m grateful for it, but what I really desire is to be where you are. So, I pray for hind’s feet. Since you live above, in the high places, make me like a mountain goat I ask.

I realize the air is thin in the mountains. I know the precipices are steep, the weather funky, and the world fragile. But it’s where you live and wander and ponder, and to quote your Book, where you are like a “stag on the mountains of spices.” That’s where I wish to be, please Father.

Now, I trust you. To the best of my ability, I leave Lisa in your hands. The same for Päivi, as well as how my earthly life unfolds. And Papa, sadly there are thousands of Lisas and Päivis and Prestons. Thank you for working all of this to our good benefit, your good glory, and as a reflection of your absolute goodness.

In Jesus’ name, Amen

Now, friends. I hope my prayer voiced a similar sentiment within your soul. God is our refuge and hope, a reliable source in time of trouble.

I realized last week that Facebook has removed the throttle on my account. Instead, what I spent seventeen years building, they blocked with finality. My presence is no more. Crazy, crazy deal. My [casual] friend, Eric Metaxas, has been permanently banned from YouTube.com for his programming related to the life and advocacy of Dietrich Bonhoeffer, the German pastor whom Hitler martyred a few days before taking his own life. One must wonder what the YouTube gods fear from Bonhoeffer.

Hitler executed Bonhoeffer and every drop of Dietrich’s blood carried the Gospel forward. I think Mr. Hitler and the Gestapo had a better chance of controlling Bonhoeffer alive than they did dead. One must wonder if YouTube is making the same miscalculation? But as I taught my history students: “If you fail to understand your history, you are destined to repeat your history.”

It is an odd experience to be silenced. However, Father knows. You know. We must keep our wits about us and trust Him. He is our hope, not the various platforms we have/had. Right? Right!

Here is the note I received from Päivi Räsänen regarding her impending trial:

PRESS RELEASE

20.1.2022

Member of Parliament Päivi Räsänen

It is my honor to defend freedom of speech and religion

The main hearing of the charges brought against me by the Prosecutor General (R 21/3567) will take place on 24 January 2022 at 9.30 am at the Helsinki District Court. The timing is challenging, just the morning after county elections. I am aware that the case is extremely important for freedom of speech and religion. The decision of the court has consequences not only to Christians’ freedom to express their conviction, but to everyone else’s also.

I await the court proceedings with a calm mind. I appeal to the Constitution of Finland and to international conventions that guarantee freedom of speech and religion. I will not back off from my conviction based on the Bible and I am ready to defend freedom of speech and religion in all necessary courts.

The process started more than two years ago, in June 2019, when I posted a tweet addressing a question to the leadership of my church that had signed up to support Pride. The main content of my post was a screenshot of verses 24-27 from the book of Romans chapter 1 from the New Testament. The aim of my criticism was the leadership of my own church, not any minority. According to the Church Act, approved by our Parliament, “all doctrine must be examined and evaluated according to God’s Holy Word”.

Following a preliminary investigation launched because of a citizen's complaint, a total of five criminal complaints were filed. On 22 April 2021, the Prosecutor General brought three separate charges against me for the tweet, a pamphlet I had written in 2004, " Male and female He created them” and a humorous radio interview with Ruben Stiller, “What would Jesus think about homosexuals?”.

The police did not consider any crime to have been committed in these two latter cases, but the Prosecutor General nevertheless ordered preliminary investigations to be carried out. Bishop Juhana Pohjola, the Dean of Evangelical Lutheran Mission Diocese of Finland, was also charged with being responsible for publishing and making available the pamphlet.

The police have spent hours of their working time questioning me and many more on investigating my reports and written statements. The Public Prosecutor's Office investigated the case for more than six months before reaching a decision, and now these charges will concern the judiciary. I think it is likely that the charges will be taken to higher courts, even to the European Court of Human Rights.

In all the charges, I deny any wrongdoing. My writings and statements under investigation are linked to the Bible's teachings on marriage, living as a man and a woman, as well as the Apostle Paul's teaching on homosexual acts. The teachings concerning marriage and sexuality in the Bible arise from love to one’s neighbor, not from hate towards a group of people.

According to the press release of the Prosecutor's Office, they make my view out to be that "homosexuals are not created by God like heterosexuals" and that I would consider them inferior to other people. Nowhere did I say that. These statements are completely contrary to my convictions. I consider this to be an unfounded statement and also highly offensive to homosexual people. I have stressed many times that all human beings are created in the image of God and have equal dignity and human rights. All human beings are sinners and are forgiven of their sins by recourse to the atoning work of Jesus.

The possible sentence for the crime of ethnic agitation would be up to two years imprisonment or a fine. But an even more serious problem would be the resulting censorship: an order to remove social media updates or a ban on posting. The sentence would open the floodgates to a ban on similar publications and the threat of modern book burnings. It is my honor to defend freedom of speech and religion.

Päivi Räsänen

Member of Parliament of Finland

Leadership, LifePreston GillhamJanuary 20, 2022