What do you do in days of doubt?
Today I've been confronted with it, with doubts about who I am, with who we are as Christians, and even who the God we serve truly is. Christianity is can be easy and often nearly painful at time. But what kind of Christianity is that?
What kind of faith do we have when we refuse to question the scripture we read, the practices we follow, and the problems of the world? Many do this, sealing themselves off from the world and the many problems having faith in Christ brings. They avoid what they find are the "hollow and deceptive philosophies" of the world which are based solely on "human tradition and the elemental spiritual forces of the world" and doing so can tip-toe around the many accusations and inquiries the world has to offer. You don't have to deal with the constant disbelief of scientists when science is considered invalid. You don't have to argue about the vicious violence of the Old Testament or the possibility of the existence of God if you just hold to your own set of presumptions and count all others as bunk and godless paganism. To wall up behind a castle of impenetrable walls which separate from the world is safe, comfortable, easy to say the least. Yet how is one truly serving their God from such a point? How can one reach out to the hurting, the poor, and the brokenhearted from behind such a wall? Sure, one's dogma and doctrine stay perfectly safe, without a scratch, but does such an attitude really even open one up to the true nature of God revealed in scripture? Does it allow the creator of this universe to truly reach his hand out to us and open our eyes to his many graces beyond the grasp of our fragile and feeble minds?
Christianity is safe when you have no risks to take. Christianity is also easy when you take in everything. So often if we're not one extreme, we're the other. If we're not denying the existence of any other thought process other than our own, we're busy embracing without second thought any thought or idea that comes along, slapping a Jesus sticker on it, and calling it Christianity. It's perfect; politically correct and non-distinguishable from anyone else in order not to provoke or offend anyone. It's safe, it's kind, but such a Christianity is little more than a Christ-sponsored "nice club" where wrong and right are nothing more than personal preferences, truth is as you see it, and each may have their own and mix and match what they wish, as long as such a set of beliefs is without ignorance or exclusiveness. Thus, Christian faith becomes little more than whatever we want it to be and God becomes nothing less than our own personal construct made in our own image of what we feel God should be, in our own terms and ideas. Religion is nothing more than an aspect of culture and thus, we worship nothing else than culture and perpetual niceness towards others.
Christianity is hard, never easy. When Christ says in Matthew 7 that "small is the gate and narrow is the road that leads to life" he isn't talking about the moral or ethical straight and narrow, but about the road to the life of the kingdom; the life in Christ. What's so interesting here is that right after this quote, Jesus warns the crowds about false prophets; those who mislead in sheep's clothing but "inwardly are ravenous wolves (vs. 15)". The Greek adjective for 'ravenous' is the word harpeges, the same word describing the ancient mythological winged-beasts the Harpies. The root of the word literally means 'kite' or 'hawk' but in this form comes to mean one who greedily snatches away something of value, like a hawk snatches a mouse of prey. Thus, in a world which attacks us as such there seems to be only two options here: we can forever hide from the vicious questions and problems the world throws at our faith and lock ourselves in, or we can abandon any and all pieces of offense and "silliness" of our faith and turn it into nothing more than a mystical philosophical view or a symbolic social motivator for ethics.
Or, we can take the narrow path, the hard path, and in the face of oppression on all sides of us, we can claim that which many call pure and utter foolishness (I Corinthinas 1:18-31) and stand in faith. To say such a stand is hard is truly an understatement. In a world which is turned upside down Christianity has become archaic, silly, religious mumbo-jumbo which has no bearing or meaning in this world. It follows a God-man who died and was raised from the dead in some minute Palestinian city; it is chocked full of blood-curdling stories of angry armies, famines and floods, and horrible atrocities all in the name of God; worse of all, this very God supposedly loves us, wants to take care of us, and says we're his.
When put this way, faith seems hopeless, meaningless, pointless.
Yet, we cannot give up hope. We cannot fall into easy Christianity nor give up altogether in this walk. Psalm 142 pleads to the Lord, even the in midst of troubles, even in the midst of the hidden traps of the wicked. The Psalmist cries out for he has been "brought very low" (vs. 6). Yet, there is trust, there is hope that the Lord "will deal bountifully with me" (vs. 7). In darkness, in the most hopeless of all moments, when despair has settled into the very core of our being; God is there.
To stand in faith is not done by us; we could never handle such on our own. To stand in faith is not merely a cultural label, a bumper sticker, or an ethical attitude. To stand in faith means that we stand against injustice and cruelty, that we stand for the creator of the universe who came all the way down to die for all the humans he so loves, and that we stand with each other, even in the midst of disagreement and strife. Moreover, we stand supporting each other in the midst of doubt, despair, and the clutches of hopelessness. True faith, genuine faith, faith which does not either lock itself in a philosophically "safe" fortress or simply go with the flow of society, is faith which truly seeks the mystery and love of God even in the pain of its questions. It, as Oswald Chambers said, steps out past the point where our beliefs were sitting to the realm of faith in the unknown and hope in the one who we see on the other side of the divide. Such faith struggles with the violence of the Old Testament and the claim of a loving God and tries not to explain away the violence by proof-texts nor ignore it, but with effort and struggle digs through the people and the age where the Old Testament comes from and in doing sees the God of the cross in the midst of the tangled mess of humanity.
I am a follower of Christ and I doubt, often sometimes. Yet I know even in this doubt, my brothers and sisters, that even the darkest of places and in the vapor of unanswered prayers, unresolved questions, and painful dreams that there is One who knows so much exceedingly more than I ever could in this simple mind of mine. He has a plan for this world and I truly hope that my daily life conforms to this plan even on the days when I struggle to even believe much less serve. And as I may wish at times for the easy road, I surely know that faith is never easy; if it was, it wouldn't be called faith, but my Savior is good, so good, and even in our darkness he calls to us saying "Come, my yoke is easy, my burden is light" (Matthew 11:30)
For those of you hurting, suffering, feeling as if there is no hope, may prayers are with you. I love you
Saturday, February 12, 2011
Monday, February 7, 2011
Preparation
Study without Piety is worthless - Jacob Spener Pia Desideria
There Cheers for our queer old dean! - William Archibald Spooner
The experimental composer and singer-songwriter Tom Waits will always have a special place in my heart (this very blog is, in fact, named after one of his many insightful song lyrics). As a younger artist back in the mid 70's Waits' music was somewhat of a cross between piano ballads and folk-tinted jazz, often floridly filling his live shows with flowing dialogue about seedy characters and craggy late-night diners. After a few albums and a decent amount of success on the nightclub scene Waits began drinking heavily which became blatantly apparent in his music and his oft befuddled stage presence. It was during one of these shows that Waits staggered out this muddled one-liner:
I'd rather have a bottle in front of me than a frontal lobotomy.
Clever or confused, either way its worth a sad laugh at what Waits later called in his more sober years a picture of a decrepit circus clown. However, Waits can't take full credit for such a phrase, indeed the English construction was around before Waits was even the figment of imagination...
William Archibald Spooner was a Dean at Oxford in the early part of the 20th century. He was a short man with a big head and a moderate case of Albinism but with a mind more brilliant than almost anyone else in the British Isles at that time. Sadly, more often than not, Spooner's mind worked much faster than his mouth, often producing slip-ups which were nothing short of hilarious (if not utterly embarrassing). These "spoonerisms", as they are now called, often involved the shifting of letters to form senseless phrases such as "It is kisstomary to cuss the bride" (It is customary to kiss the bride) or, my favorite, "Such Bulgarians should be vanished" (such vulgarians should be banished).
A brilliant man nonetheless, but a man whose mind often in his brilliance strayed fervently. Letters of Spooner would request individuals to his office to settle some issue, only to have a postscript at the end of the letter saying that the matter had already been resolved. In fact, Spooner even once preached an entire sermon about one of the letters of St. Paul, only to have substituted "Aristotle" for Paul. It was only after preaching the entire sermon and descending from the pulpit before he finally paused, returned to the pulpit and said to his terribly confused congregation "Did i say Aristotle? I meant St. Paul" before finally returning to his seat. Even more embarrassing was at a royal dinner where his toast for the queen ended in the same manner; saluting the "queer old dean" instead of her highness, the dear old queen.
Ouch.
Recently the question arose from one of my peers what were supposed to be doing here at Princeton. Many nights end in fruitful and edifying discussion of theology, philosophy, and the many aspects of serving the Kingdom of Christ in a manner which is worthy and pleasing to our Lord and Savior. Yet, he confided in me, how is this discussion, as verdant as it is, truly serving our Lord in spiritual acts of worship? How are we truly practicing the life of Jesus upon this earth locking in babbling discussion when the world is in such dire need of the gospel? Are we truly filling our purpose in each and every moment?
Preparation is important, but no so important that our entire life should be for that purpose. Preparation is a means, never an end. It is always anticipating a future, a goal, a trial, an event, a hope, a fear, a coming promise. Yet even in the hard work of preparing ourselves for our spiritual acts of worship, the harder work is often the overcoming of the temptation to buckle down rather than jump to action. We can study and meditate, ponder and conceptualize, theorize and discuss and dialogue until our faces turn blue and we hit our beds with a false sense of accomplishment as if we truly have been such "good and faithful servants."
God is good, so good that such pious activity and service pale in comparison to the grace of God which extends its healing and salvific hand as a balm to the burning guilt and torment of our sins. Yet, to truly understand this gift of grace, to truly understand this hope of redemption and resurrection, to truly feel the love selflessly displayed on the cross we must become like Him. It is when we finally allow the grace of God to truly sanctify and heal our broken selves and put away our foolish individuality and pride that we can finally witness the world through the eyes of the one who gave it all for us.
How differently we would view the world if we stopped mixing up our priorities, if we could somehow see the world not for it's bottom-lines, top-dollars, and its onslaught of flash and pizazz and could simply see even the tiniest of moments for its complete and utter significance. How differently this world would look if it was viewed not through the jumbled Spoonerism that is our pride and the trinkets we grasp so stringently to and we began to let the Holy Spirit take control and put our preparation and our study to use.
If only such a world were easier to see...
Love each other, pray often, reflect your Savior
There Cheers for our queer old dean! - William Archibald Spooner
The experimental composer and singer-songwriter Tom Waits will always have a special place in my heart (this very blog is, in fact, named after one of his many insightful song lyrics). As a younger artist back in the mid 70's Waits' music was somewhat of a cross between piano ballads and folk-tinted jazz, often floridly filling his live shows with flowing dialogue about seedy characters and craggy late-night diners. After a few albums and a decent amount of success on the nightclub scene Waits began drinking heavily which became blatantly apparent in his music and his oft befuddled stage presence. It was during one of these shows that Waits staggered out this muddled one-liner:
I'd rather have a bottle in front of me than a frontal lobotomy.
Clever or confused, either way its worth a sad laugh at what Waits later called in his more sober years a picture of a decrepit circus clown. However, Waits can't take full credit for such a phrase, indeed the English construction was around before Waits was even the figment of imagination...
William Archibald Spooner was a Dean at Oxford in the early part of the 20th century. He was a short man with a big head and a moderate case of Albinism but with a mind more brilliant than almost anyone else in the British Isles at that time. Sadly, more often than not, Spooner's mind worked much faster than his mouth, often producing slip-ups which were nothing short of hilarious (if not utterly embarrassing). These "spoonerisms", as they are now called, often involved the shifting of letters to form senseless phrases such as "It is kisstomary to cuss the bride" (It is customary to kiss the bride) or, my favorite, "Such Bulgarians should be vanished" (such vulgarians should be banished).
A brilliant man nonetheless, but a man whose mind often in his brilliance strayed fervently. Letters of Spooner would request individuals to his office to settle some issue, only to have a postscript at the end of the letter saying that the matter had already been resolved. In fact, Spooner even once preached an entire sermon about one of the letters of St. Paul, only to have substituted "Aristotle" for Paul. It was only after preaching the entire sermon and descending from the pulpit before he finally paused, returned to the pulpit and said to his terribly confused congregation "Did i say Aristotle? I meant St. Paul" before finally returning to his seat. Even more embarrassing was at a royal dinner where his toast for the queen ended in the same manner; saluting the "queer old dean" instead of her highness, the dear old queen.
Ouch.
Recently the question arose from one of my peers what were supposed to be doing here at Princeton. Many nights end in fruitful and edifying discussion of theology, philosophy, and the many aspects of serving the Kingdom of Christ in a manner which is worthy and pleasing to our Lord and Savior. Yet, he confided in me, how is this discussion, as verdant as it is, truly serving our Lord in spiritual acts of worship? How are we truly practicing the life of Jesus upon this earth locking in babbling discussion when the world is in such dire need of the gospel? Are we truly filling our purpose in each and every moment?
Preparation is important, but no so important that our entire life should be for that purpose. Preparation is a means, never an end. It is always anticipating a future, a goal, a trial, an event, a hope, a fear, a coming promise. Yet even in the hard work of preparing ourselves for our spiritual acts of worship, the harder work is often the overcoming of the temptation to buckle down rather than jump to action. We can study and meditate, ponder and conceptualize, theorize and discuss and dialogue until our faces turn blue and we hit our beds with a false sense of accomplishment as if we truly have been such "good and faithful servants."
God is good, so good that such pious activity and service pale in comparison to the grace of God which extends its healing and salvific hand as a balm to the burning guilt and torment of our sins. Yet, to truly understand this gift of grace, to truly understand this hope of redemption and resurrection, to truly feel the love selflessly displayed on the cross we must become like Him. It is when we finally allow the grace of God to truly sanctify and heal our broken selves and put away our foolish individuality and pride that we can finally witness the world through the eyes of the one who gave it all for us.
How differently we would view the world if we stopped mixing up our priorities, if we could somehow see the world not for it's bottom-lines, top-dollars, and its onslaught of flash and pizazz and could simply see even the tiniest of moments for its complete and utter significance. How differently this world would look if it was viewed not through the jumbled Spoonerism that is our pride and the trinkets we grasp so stringently to and we began to let the Holy Spirit take control and put our preparation and our study to use.
If only such a world were easier to see...
Love each other, pray often, reflect your Savior
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