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Sola Scriptura is the rallying cry of the Protestant Reformation, but it never rang true for me.  I was never a Lutheran or a Presbyterian.  Forgive me, but I was raised Episcopalian–that middle way between Catholicism and Protestantism–and then went Ayn Randian for a while, then back to Jesus through the Jesus movement, shaped mainly by a Jewish believer who didn’t have a dog in the Catholic-Protestant fight, which was a Gentile brawl.
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This is one of those posts where I’m working something out, in this case trying to come to grips with a niggling annoyance that keeps coming up.  Pops up like a prairie dog and then down in the hole again, then up again, then down again.  Now you see it, now you don’t.  What was that?  Fear, but of  a particular sort.  Fear with a religious or pious bent.  It’s not that bracing fear that wakes you up either, a fear that clarifies and  sharpens focus. Like Isaiah in the temple fear or whatever the fear is that is the beginning of wisdom.  This is more like an anxious fear, a whining kind of dread that won’t look you straight in the eye.  It’s a worrying nervous sort of fear.
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