Chronicles (Part V): Eyes on the Horizon that Doesn't Exist

As I mentioned in the introduction to this site, my departure from England occured some time ago. I’m collecting and sharing these posts now because I have moved past the place of pure frustration and confusion to a place of increased perspective. Again, my journey is not yet complete. But perhaps I’ve seen a sufficient amount along the way that I can now more safely navigate the waters. That said, I don’t want to ignore the fact that I’ve crossed paths with my fair share of dangerous lands- most, if not all, of which were intentionally approached (you can decide for yourself the wisdom of these decisions).

So before I share with you the experience of the seasoned yachtsman, I feel compelled to share the (in)experience of the foolish runaway. Just like Chesterton felt in recounting his voyage, many of these “chronicles” are somewhat embarassing to me now- just as, I’m sure, my current ones will be at a later time. But the point of this endeavor is not to preserve my pride. It is to be honest…

I’ll be posting seven pieces from the early parts of my journey.

5/21/2008

I feel like I keep tripping over my own feet. They keep bumping into each other. They’re being sent mixed signals. My eyes were never ones to look too long at the ground before me. They’ve always drifted to the horizon, or the sky, or the places that I hope exist ahead. They’re looking now, only it’s a much more erratic attempt than it has been in the past. The fact that it’s now an attempt is the real difference, I suppose. In the past my gaze was firm. Scanning the horizon at times? Sure. Drifting here and there, satisfying its curiosity? On occasion. But I had an internal bearing, like some creature of the night who always knows the fastest path home when in danger. I could call upon this compass within me to redirect me, drawing my gaze back to the place it belonged. I took comfort, a deep, profound comfort, in looking upon this object of my desires. What was it? I don’t entirely remember. I remember the feeling. I remember the sensation, the calm, the sense of knowing (although, as it turns out, the lack of knowledge about this place is what began my departure from it, I think). But I do recall it, even now as I write this. I feel like that person is me still, that it is not entirely disconnected with my current reality. But the surroundings sure do look different here. My thoughts, my vision, they are more cloudy, smaller. What led me here?

There are a set of beliefs within me. Beliefs is not the proper word, for there are far too many ideas associated with that word that do not apply here. They are… rules that I must follow, internal guidelines, a mandate that I must live according to. It’s not a thing I put faith in or “believe” in… it’s just who I am. I cannot change these guidelines and I certainly cannot disobey them. They are the way I was created. I can say that because if I wasn’t created then this debate is irrelevant.

More than anything else, these rules that are within me require me to 1) seek what is true in the world, and 2) live according to the truth I discover. My first thought is that these are a product of culture, maybe engrained in me after hearing enough college professors who I admire preach about their necessity, their beauty. That seems like what most people would say, and in this case I mean the type of most people who are mostly right about these things. I certainly didn’t care too much about it before that period of my life (of course, I wasn’t exactly getting both sides). It did emerge in my first year of college. And I wasn’t the only one. But I do feel like it has lasted longer in me, or perhaps that it has done a bit more damage, kept me out of the game longer. Indefinitely. There’s the reality of the situation emerging. It’s not really about how long will I be sidelined. My status is now: return unknown.

There are also a set of ideals within me. A calling, if you will. I have broken it down into something simpler (an oversimplification, most would say). But, whatever it is, it is inside of me. I believe in doing what is right. I believe in caring- not in the weak, watered-down way that word now sounds, but in the sense of legitimately giving a crap about someone other than yourself, and not just when the crowd is watching either. I want to believe that there is a purpose for everything that happens and for every person. But I’m slipping now into the current status of my thinking. I’m tripping over my own feet again. Now we’re coming upon a chasm that has developed between what I believe and what I want to believe. My point, for now, is simply that there is a separate sense of ideals which are within me. They are more powerful in that they move me to do more powerful things. But, as recent history shows, those primary rules which are engrained into my cognitive systems (like the binary code of a computer program) ultimately take precedence. They cannot be denied, cannot not be negotiated with. It turns out that my ideals can.

I’d like to know how my gaze became so small. I know the basic principles of how it happened. But going through those are like what English professors do to beautiful poems- breaking them down their sentence structures, analyzing how the poets were influenced by their contemporaries, defining onomatopoeia. It shows elements, in and of themselves, but only in actually reading the poem can you truly experience it. I have a hard time remembering the experiences that led me here. I recall specific examples, often in the peaks or valleys (a lot more valleys than peaks on this journey). But I’m at a loss for words to reenact my actual journey, the evolution (devolution) towards my current state. All I know is that the surface level attributes gradually left. I fought this at times. My former self and the person I was becoming occasionally stared each other down, neither willing to budge. But given enough time, I think you eventually stumble down the easier path. Maybe at first just for a peek. Then you look to see what’s up the bend. Next you are a zombie, not even looking at anything, just walking. You’re not happy with what you’re doing. But the old self gave you no option. You begged him (begged Him) to give you a way out. You even have times where you force yourself to believe that the old self has returned, that you have rediscovered your long lost love. Those delusions became more and more hollow.

Now I’m here. Looking for the big world of my dreams. That’s all I can classify them as now- I don’t think they ever really existed anywhere else but in dreams. The horizon I used to fixate my eyes to, the clouds I used to pray to, even the dreams- I used to know they were more than that… they’re all in a box in storage marked “FRAGILE”, not to be reopened until next time we move. They now exist in the ever-fading category I previously referred to as ideals. They aren’t beliefs anymore, not really. That’s the constant debate (although it’s being debated less and less). How do I put faith in this, how do I believe it? Those are such old questions that I can’t even go far down the line of thought, in either direction, without getting bored. I’ve been there. I’ve yelled at the clouds, ran towards what lies beyond the next hill, tried to test those dreams. That is an antiquated process. Did I simply embark on it too soon? Am I just burnt out, simply needing a period of rest before the next round? Answers, anybody?

I want the dreams to be true. But they have to actually be true. The rules require it. So where do I go from here?

Chronicles (Part IV): Fundamentals

As I mentioned in the introduction to this site, my departure from England occured some time ago. I’m collecting and sharing these posts now because I have moved past the place of pure frustration and confusion to a place of increased perspective. Again, my journey is not yet complete. But perhaps I’ve seen a sufficient amount along the way that I can now more safely navigate the waters. That said, I don’t want to ignore the fact that I’ve crossed paths with my fair share of dangerous lands- most, if not all, of which were intentionally approached (you can decide for yourself the wisdom of these decisions).

So before I share with you the experience of the seasoned yachtsman, I feel compelled to share the (in)experience of the foolish runaway. Just like Chesterton felt in recounting his voyage, many of these “chronicles” are somewhat embarassing to me now- just as, I’m sure, my current ones will be at a later time. But the point of this endeavor is not to preserve my pride. It is to be honest…

I’ll be posting seven pieces from the early parts of my journey.

8/25/2008

Three schools of thought regarding the Biblical expression of love…

True love is only concerned with bringing other people into a relationship with God and securing their eternal place in Heaven. This must be the ambition behind all of our actions because all other actions, not directed at this goal, simply equate to making people comfortable on their pathway to Hell.

When Jesus met a spiritual need, He almost always accompanied it by fulfilling a physical need. He would tell someone that He was the Bread of Life, but he would also provide physical bread. He would tell someone about the spiritual healing that was necessary only through Him, but He also healed their physical sickness.

Love takes many forms. It can come as a warm meal, a free visit from a doctor, or a word of encouragement when it is most needed. The love of God need not be blatant. Sometimes you must meet physical, emotional, or otherwise “non-spiritual” before you can ever bring up the condition of a person’s soul. In fact, a silent but loving embrace may do far more for a person than a pamphlet detailing the 5 steps to Heaven.

Chronicles (Part III): Treacherous Waters Indeed

As I mentioned in the introduction to this site, my departure from England occured some time ago. I’m collecting and sharing these posts now because I have moved past the place of pure frustration and confusion to a place of increased perspective. Again, my journey is not yet complete. But perhaps I’ve seen a sufficient amount along the way that I can now more safely navigate the waters. That said, I don’t want to ignore the fact that I’ve crossed paths with my fair share of dangerous lands- most, if not all, of which were intentionally approached (you can decide for yourself the wisdom of these decisions).

So before I share with you the experience of the seasoned yachtsman, I feel compelled to share the (in)experience of the foolish runaway. Just like Chesterton felt in recounting his voyage, many of these “chronicles” are somewhat embarassing to me now- just as, I’m sure, my current ones will be at a later time. But the point of this endeavor is not to preserve my pride. It is to be honest…

I’ll be posting seven pieces from the early parts of my journey.

10/06/2006

The problem with religion is that everything about it can be seen in two lights. Perhaps this problem extends to all things in all aspects of life, but that doesn’t really concern me. I only care about the existence and character of God. What I mean is that religion both relies upon and is undermined by the fact that it cannot be explained by reason. On the one hand, if I knew everything there was to know about God, then he would cease to amaze me… and I imagine there would no longer be a need for him. But, on the other hand, the mystery (that is the good word for it) can just as rationally lead to disbelief. God, by his nature, will not be proven. However, that is also the nature of myths and fairy tales. It is a complete paradox.

I want to know the truth, but when I find out the truth it no longer amazes me. When it no longer amazes me, I no longer put my faith in the other aspects that I don’t understand. I can’t turn back, yet going on is even more hopeless. “You shall know the truth, and the truth shall set you free,” says the Bible. Then why is the world so full of doubt? Why is nothing certain? Why, after many years of studying and putting my faith in this thing do I know the truth even less than when I began? “Seek and you shall find”??? Bull crap! I’ve sought as hard as I can. I’ve been seeking even when I didn’t know it, and I’ve found nothing but more questions. Well, thanks a lot, God. If you do exist, then I have no doubt you know what you’re doing. If you’re real, then I have no doubt that in a few years this will be a thing of the past. If you’re real, I see how this will all turn out for the best.

But where does that leave me? Is this a learning experience? Am I maturing through this “phase” of my walk? I really hope so. But, God, if you’re not careful… and I want to believe you are… this learning experience may teach me the completely wrong thing. I do feel like I’m starting to be “educated”, but what I’m learning isn’t what I want. And I can’t imagine it's what you want. So please, God, I’m begging you… show me something, anything, that will get me out of this place. It’s not that I’m afraid of you not being beside me. It’s that I’m afraid you never were. I’m afraid you’re not beside anybody. I’m afraid it’s all a beautiful system that works like a charm 99.9% of the time. Please don’t be like the Wizard of Oz. Please don’t be some short guy pulling a bunch of gadgets and levers to make himself seem like he’s something he’s not. I’m not sure I can take finding out something like that. But then again, by the nature of my problem, I may never know one way or the other.

Chronicles (Part II): All the Islands Look the Same

As I mentioned in the introduction to this site, my departure from England occured some time ago. I’m collecting and sharing these posts now because I have moved past the place of pure frustration and confusion to a place of increased perspective. Again, my journey is not yet complete. But perhaps I’ve seen a sufficient amount along the way that I can now more safely navigate the waters. That said, I don’t want to ignore the fact that I’ve crossed paths with my fair share of dangerous lands- most, if not all, of which were intentionally approached (you can decide for yourself the wisdom of these decisions).

So before I share with you the experience of the seasoned yachtsman, I feel compelled to share the (in)experience of the foolish runaway. Just like Chesterton felt in recounting his voyage, many of these “chronicles” are somewhat embarassing to me now- just as, I’m sure, my current ones will be at a later time. But the point of this endeavor is not to preserve my pride. It is to be honest…

I’ll be posting seven pieces from the early parts of my journey.

3/29/2006

What if the good man and the bad man are really the same man? What if the bad man is simply a good man who got screwed over a few times and learned that being a nice guy didn’t pay off, so he became tough and screwed other people over instead. What if the good man was simply a bad man who felt guilty and learned that being nice really did pay off, so he became good and treated others well so that they’d treat him well? What if the man is simply labeled by what neighborhood he lives in, by the family he belongs to, by his friends, his experiences, his situation? Sure, it’s the basic psychological question… nature vs. nurture. “Nurture is the soil for nature’s seed”. Well, that’s obvious. But, what if it extends to the most fundamental and most important aspects of life? What if a man’s very soul is forged through years of experience? Now we have a serious problem.

Are terrorists and priests really different people? Sure, they speak different languages, live in different parts of the world, take part in different activities. But both are really doing the same essential things… they are responding to their worlds! The terrorist has been taught that the best way to deal with the crap life throws at him is to throw it right back. The priest has been taught that the best way to deal with it is to accept it, maybe fight it every once in a while when it doesn’t hurt someone, but believe that it’s God’s will. Sure, the priest may have learned more by himself whereas the terrorist may have learned by force, thus making the priest’s way a little more educated… but does that really change anything?

The terrorist takes comfort in the fact that he is doing what is right, as does the priest. Both are comforted. And what if they are not? Does that really say that something is wrong with them, or does it mean that they have learned the wrong system? Been taught the wrong system? Or more fundamentally… did they just grow up in the wrong neighborhood, with the wrong family, with the wrong friends? Again, who is to say that they are not products of their raising? You can argue that some people rebel against their raising and turn into complete opposites of everything they have known… but this argument is in and of itself uneducated. Rebellion is a form of learning just like any other, and often an even more productive one. Where is the distinction? What action is taken that is not learned?

Chronicles (Part I): Setting Sail

As I mentioned in the introduction to this site, my departure from England occured some time ago. I'm collecting and sharing these posts now because I have moved past the place of pure frustration and confusion to a place of increased perspective. Again, my journey is not yet complete. But perhaps I've seen a sufficient amount along the way that I can now more safely navigate the waters. That said, I don't want to ignore the fact that I've crossed paths with my fair share of dangerous lands- most, if not all, of which were intentionally approached (you can decide for yourself the wisdom of these decisions).

So before I share with you the experience of the seasoned yachtsman, I feel compelled to share the (in)experience of the foolish runaway. Just like Chesterton felt in recounting his voyage, many of these "chronicles" are somewhat embarassing to me now- just as, I'm sure, my current ones will be at a later time. But the point of this endeavor is not to preserve my pride. It is to be honest...

I'll be posting seven pieces from the early parts of my journey.

05/26/2006

It seems to me as though faith and intelligence are at an impasse. An intelligent outlook on life would tell you to discern all that you see, to ask why before drawing conclusions, and to question that which you hold to be true. Yet, the Bible clearly states that to be a Christian is a matter of faith. Growing up in church, I was led to believe that faith in Christ will save me from my sins, and that without faith I would be lost. So, I wonder, is it therefore impossible for a Christian to have an intelligent outlook on life? Would not the term intelligent Christian be a complete oxymoron? We are told that to be a good Christian is to have “faith like a child”. Well, children can be deceived easier than your everyday house pet. So am I not, by holding to this blind faith, rejecting the intelligence that I have been given as a human being?

If this whole Christianity thing is really worth giving up my life, as Jesus taught, then it must be much more than simply a religion. It must be not about doctrine or denomination but about truth- absolute, all-encompassing truth. The goal must be not to develop a Christian worldview, but rather a true worldview- one that sees the world for what it really is. And if in any way those two conflict, then Christianity is therefore not real. However, if I can look through Christianity’s eyes and through truth’s eyes and see the same picture, then I am seeking after something that is well worth every part of me. The question now remains: How do I know that Christianity is truth if I am supposed to believe it simply out of faith?

Hebrews 11:1 tells us that “faith is being sure of what we hope for and certain of what we do not see”. I would argue that many people in the church have a wrong definition of faith. I have heard far too many times, when questioning something in the Bible, that I must simply have faith and ask God when I get to Heaven. I believe that the writer of Hebrews meant something far different than this version of faith. Sure, my questions and doubts in the Bible do not constitute rejecting my belief in God completely. But, when faith is used as a cop-out for something difficult to understand in the Bible, I believe it is taken way out of context.

You have to go back to the issue of truth. Truth not founded in fact is not a truth at all and therefore how can I truly believe it? Well, I believe my beliefs to be true- which sounds redundant, but it is essential to having real faith as described in Hebrews. If I believe something, it must not simply be because it sounds good or because a lot of respectable people believe it too. There must be more. I must believe it because it is true- because I have seen evidence of it in my life and in the lives of others. I must be able to analyze it, question it, even doubt it. And if in the end of all that it stands strong, I will believe it. Yet, this approach is rarely taken in the church, and in fact it is often shunned. We see people wrestling with their faith, questioning an apparent contradiction in the Bible, or (Heaven forbid) even studying another religion! We see them and feel sorry for them and tell them that it will be okay, that they are simply confused. Well God is a very confusing being. He is infinite, omnipotent, omnipresent. I don’t even fully understand what those words mean- of course I’m confused! Perhaps it is not the confused who are in the wrong, but rather the “understanding”.

Have you ever tried to explain algebra to your cat? Algebra’s not too difficult of a subject. It’s logical, it makes sense. Yet, the cat is absolutely incapable of understanding the words you are speaking, let alone the concepts they convey. I believe that to God we seem a lot like a cat (or any other small-brained animal). So, for me to go around feeling confident that I understand the complexities of God would be a tragic mistake. I do not and will not (in this lifetime) understand God. He is simply too big and too great for my small mind to grasp. Yet, I believe that in seeking Him and trying to understand Him, He is glorified.

I must now go back to the issue of faith. From the Bible, I already know that we must be sure of what we hope for and certain of what we cannot see. But, it is not enough to be content with not seeing. God did not fill His Word with complicated ideas and things that we cannot possibly understand without a reason. “Seek and you shall find”. God wants us to seek Him. God wants us to question… because when we question truth we can only come out believing in it more than when we started. Every time we question something in the Bible and find the answer, we glorify God by strengthening our belief in Him. And when we cannot find the answer, we rely on faith that God is sovereign and that it is in His control. But we cannot stop seeking, we cannot stop digging deeper into the well of knowledge that is God.

Having Dinner With An Idea: A Preface

I’ve read a number of popular Christian books in the past that succeed admirably in leading readers to think deeply about some important, rarely contemplated idea. But in some of these cases, I’ve been hesitant to embrace the way in which they accomplish that feat. I often find that successful books like these employ a strategy that, in essence, leads the reader in a full-out sprint towards the precipice of a cliff. The author doesn’t say “jump”, but they intentionally don’t post any bright orange warning signs saying “STOP!” Momentum is a powerful thing. And as such, many people find themselves in a free fall.

Despite my reluctance to approve of these authors’ techniques, I’m forced to recognize that a lot of what I write in the following posts may, for some, have the same effect. I also understand the unfortunate correlation between an inclination to not stop at the cliff and an inclination to not read prefaces. So, maybe I’m preaching to the choir. But it nevertheless must be said that the intent of these pages are to take the reader to a place that may be a cliff… but also may be something entirely different. I, like you, don’t fully know what lies on the other side. But, in writing this, I haven’t leapt full-on into the unknown- I’ve thoughtfully and patiently considered these ideas in a way that allows me to engage with them yet not fall prey to the potentially dangerous lands they could take me (at least, that is my hope). This is what I’d advise the reader do, as well.

I’m not proposing a radical new way of being a Christian. I’m just proposing that we come humbly to the table and have dinner with an idea. If what we eat turns out to be sour, toss it away and return to the traditional foods. It’s likely that there are at least a few points here that are sour indeed. But on the off chance that we may stumble upon something of nutritional value, I propose that we give it a try. I certainly won’t risk you eating some poisonous fruit that I haven’t tried myself. For what it’s worth, I’ve dined at the table for some time without becoming ill. Despite that, I’d caution the reader to eat small bites. Not everyone’s stomach is the same, and some of us do have allergies. But if you find yourself, after a few bites, liking what you taste and feeling comfortable that it’s not Eve’s apple, I welcome you to the table. Enjoy the feast.

 

Leaving England

G.K. Chesterton once said that "there are two ways to get home; and one of them is to stay there. The other is to walk round the whole world till we come back to the same place." G.K. Chesterton was a very smart man. In his book, Orthodoxy, Chesterton describes his journey of leaving traditional Christianity in pursuit of discovering truth for himself, only to wind up right where he started. In a similar analogy, he talks about an English yachtsman who sailed off from the shores of England, miscalculated his course, and accidentally "rediscovered" his homeland under the impression that he was a pioneer, the first to plant the British flag on that foreign land. More specific to Chesterton's departure from traditional Christianity, he admits that his own personal "rediscovery" was quite comical and even, perhaps, somewhat embarrassing:

"It might amuse a friend or an enemy to read how I gradually learnt from the truth of some stray legend or from the falsehood of some dominant philosophy, things that I might have learnt from my catechism—if I had ever learnt it. There may or may not be some entertainment in reading how I found at last in an anarchist club or a Babylonian temple what I might have found in the nearest parish church. If any one is entertained by learning how the flowers of the field or the phrases in an omnibus, the accidents of politics or the pains of youth came together in a certain order to produce a certain conviction of Christian orthodoxy, he may possibly read this book."

The reason I include Chesterton's words here is that I, too, have left England. While in college and in the years after, I became frustratingly dissatisfied with the traditional version of faith to which I had long been a devout follower. For whatever reason, there was nothing that could keep me within the borders of my native land, the place I had called home. For I knew that I was not merely a citizen of England, but of the world. If England was truly my home, then it was a land I would desire all the more earnestly as I set out for the high seas and the barbaric lands- and one I would recognize all the more readily as my own. I felt, as I still feel now, that this journey was a necessary one.

Today, as I write this, I remain an explorer in foreign lands and open seas. While Chesterton wrote Orthodoxy at a point where he had reached a specific destination, my journey is not yet complete. So far, the voyage has been a fascinating one. I become increasingly convinced with every passing day that I draw nearer to the land I will one day call home. But as with any genuine endeavor of this nature, I can't yet say with confidence whether my home will be something new or the rediscovery of something old. But I firmly believe, deep inside of me in a place where leaves rustle, that this journey is a good one. I welcome you to share it with me.