Things That Resound (Part II): Story

A thing resounds when it rings true

Ringing all the bells inside of you

Like a golden sky on a summer's eve

Your heart is tugging at your sleve

And you cannot say why

Part II: Story

Dots on the graph represent single events. The x-axis is time. I suppose you could conceive of the y-axis as space, but I think it would probably be confusing to do so. It's better to think of it as some sort of good / bad continuum, though I fear that this, too, is ultimately misleading.

The most important concept to start with is that

TIME is not the same as THE PASSAGE OF EVENTS

While the physicist knows a specific formula that describes the relationship between these two things (an equation, if you will), we know from practical experience that in the real world no such obvious correlation exists. 

For instance, in the graph below, the passage of events is slow relative to time.

(A real-world example of this might be the Dark Ages)

Conversely, in the graph below, the passage of events is fast relative to time.

(A real-world example would be the Enlightenment)

We all, both as individuals and as groups, have a sense of the relationship between TIME and the PASSAGE OF EVENTS at any given moment. Sometimes we feel that the passage of events is too slow, and we want change (which is, by definition, the presentation of an event or a sequence of events). At other times, we fear that there may be too much change in too short of a time, and we seek to slow down.

But the thing that seems obvious to me is that no one wants zero change. Imagine the following sequence of "events"...

There are few people, if any, who genuinely desire this. I have a theory for why that is.

I think we hate the idea of zero change- of zero events between the beginning and the end- because events are actually the representation of something deeper.

As we all know, events don't stand independent of one another. Event A influences Event B which influences Event C. This is what we call causality.

But even causality isn't the whole story. In fact, the previous sentence inadvertently answers the next question. What is beneath causality? Why do we ask the question "why"?

The reason is that causality is a byproduct of something bigger. It is the byproduct of STORY.

By drawing connections between events, we receive a picture that tells a story. Each individual dot, each separate event, if considered in isolation, is without meaning, and thus, tells no story.

Let us then go back to an earlier question. Why is the graph below unsatisfying?

It's unsatisfying (and deeply so) because there is no story. A beginning and an end, by themselves, are not enough.

If at my birth I am at Point A and at my death I am at Point A, and no single event happened in between, then my birth and death had to have happened at the same time, because it is physically impossible for me to have not moved or acted in some way in the time between them. And if they are the same and there were no intermediate events, then I did not actually exist at all. I would have no story.

However, each of us knows that we have a story- both as individuals and as groups. We know that between point A and point Z,

SOMETHING HAS HAPPENED,
SOMETHING IS HAPPENING, and
SOMETHING WILL HAPPEN

What we call the WHAT HAS HAPPENED, WHAT IS HAPPENING, and WHAT WILL HAPPEN, when grouped together, is story.

While we all experience and, to varying degrees, know our individual stories, it is considerably more difficult to see, know, and believe... The Story.

I would argue that there are four fears that we have about The Story, and I would argue that most all of mankind's troubles with seeing, knowing, and believing The Story boil down to one of these four fears:

1. There is no Story.

Despite the fact that we cannot deny our own individual stories, some fear that the large-scale nature of the universe is not so clearly connected. There is not always causality... Sometimes there is just chance.

2. The Story isn't big.

We love to read books, watch movies, or hear the telling of stories. And despite the beauty of some of the small, momentary stories, we have a special affinity for the big ones. Why do stories like Lord of the Rings, Star Wars, Harry Potter, and Chronicles of Narnia become immediate blockbuster hits? Among other things, the reason is their magnitude.

We see something when Aragorn leads an army into an epic battle or when Luke destroys the Death Star that is fundamentally big. We are drawn to these stories like a flying insect to light. But in approaching these stories and seeing their "bigness", we can't help but wonder if such bigness is not confined to the movie screen... to the imagination.

3. The Story isn't good.

Some of us are able to accept that there is a Story and that it is a big story. But when they look at the parts of that story they see around them or the parts that they experience directly, they do not like the story's plot.

4. The Story isn't my story.

Finally, some may accept that there is a Story, that it is big, and that it is good. But they have a story that seems as though it is different from The Story. They think that while there is such a big and good Story being told, they are not a part of it. They have their own story- and while it's considerably smaller and not nearly as good, it's the story that they are a part of and... it will have to do.

The Bible tells a story.

It claims that it is The Story.

It claims that it is big.

It claims that it is good.

And it claims that we are a part of it...

It claims that this Story is our story. 

Things That Resound (Part I): Intro

A thing resounds when it rings true

Ringing all the bells inside of you

Like a golden sky on a summer's eve

Your heart is tugging at your sleve

And you cannot say why

-Andrew Peterson, More

As I wrapped up the "chronicles" of my journey thus far, I struggled to identify the most appropriate transition to my long-term plan for this project. Do I just dive right in? Do I start rambling on about whatever island I happen to pass, whatever fellow sailor I happen to meet? I could do that. It would probably be pretty boring.

So I thought again about what it was that I was really trying to do here. Why is it that I'm typing into this screen for this blog at this moment, rather than doing so for some other one? I enjoy writing. But why am I writing this? And why now?

I then came to the realization that these answers came down (as they often do) to the line of an Andrew Peterson song. In his album The Far Country, Peterson brings his audience time after time into an unyielding encounter with the reality and nature of death. True to form, his lyrics paint truth upon the canvas of the listener's heart. One encounters in his songs all that is most beautiful in both death and life- the sense of where we really are and where we're going. He concludes the record with a song called "More", in which he begins at a somber grave site and ends in the midst of our wildest dreams.

It struck me that a verse from this song (which I've included above) ultimately encapsulates what is likely a major impetus for my sitting here at this moment working on this particular project. You see, I really enjoy reading books. I start more than I finish- but I start a lot. The world is fascinating to me. You could give me a book about some obscure topic and (if I wasn't allowed to be distracted by the many stacks of other books sitting on my desk) I would most certainly find something within its pages that was interesting.

For that reason, my journey of leaving England hasn't been all hardship and struggle. It's been tough, no doubt, but even a lonely boat can encounter some incredible things. Having said that, after acquiring a certain amount of "knowledge", I began to recognize that there was a subtle distinction between certain types of knowing. Most languages, in fact, have multiple words for the verb we English-speakers simply refer to as "to know". For instance, in Spanish there is saber (to know a fact, or to know about) but there is also conocer (to know in the sense of  a relationship, to be familiar with, or even to know intimately). In More, I believe Peterson is referring to the latter when he sings about a "thing that resounds".

As we all know (you decide if this is an instance of saber or conocer), the world is not merely a collection of facts and pieces of information. Even at the most rudimentary level, there really is more. I don't yet fully recognize what more there is. But I'd be lying if I didn't say that I feel deep within me, even if just on occasion, the sense of ringing bells, golden skies, and tugging hearts. In the next series of posts, I hope to share a few of those "things that resound" which seem to have stayed with me no matter where I travel.

Chronicles (Part VII): Acquiring Perspective

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.

10/30/09

When viewing the actions we take as a society, I find myself often wondering what end we are pursuing. We are constantly striving. Seeking. Fighting. Struggling. But, regardless of the fact that we disagree on a large number of things, and regardless of whether we are running towards different finish lines, it seems that we are at least asking the same questions. We generally have the same values (not necessarily in a religious or moral sense, but in the sense of quintessential desires). Collectively, I feel that we have our eyes fixated on a future that we are incessantly striving to realize.

What is it that we are striving for? What is it that we gather together to achieve, electing officials to offices to seek more directly on our behalf? We love to talk about progress. I’d say that progress is a fairly easy thing to achieve as a society. If you put enough people together for long enough, they will eventually realize what things are being done wrong (there’s always plenty in that department) and at some point after that will eventually find a solution to make it right (or at least, a little less wrong than before). I think as humans we are finely tuned to correct our mistakes, to learn from our non-lethal errors. We may be stubborn. History has certainly shown that to be one of our defining qualities. But at some point the wall of stupidity crumbles to reason’s siege.

I have to say that while progress is admirable and reasonably attainable, it’s more of a description than an explanation of mankind’s drive. At the same time, I am hesitant in saying that. The case for progress alone is compelling. We are inspired by the prospect of tomorrow being better than today. We take pride in the fact that, while we still aren’t where we want to be, we sure have come a long way. We look to our past, shake our heads, and thank God we live in modern times. We look to our future, at times with fear, but often with hope.

I really think that’s what it breaks down to. Progress is ultimately a watered down word for hope. Hope that next year will be better than this one. Hope that our children will grow up in a world of opportunities we never had. Hope that the diseases which kill millions will be defeated. Hope that war-mongering dictators will succumb to reasonable, virtuous men. Those are potent, inspiring words. Few can hear them and not be moved. But, at the same time, they can’t explain it all. That argument, in and of itself, is fundamentally cyclical. Powerful? Absolutely. Effective? Entirely. But cyclical. It goes something like this. We strive our entire lives so that our children can inherit a better life, a better world than ours. So that… our children can strive their entire lives so that their children can inherit a better life, a better world than theirs. So that… So that… So that…

While hope is a powerful thing, fear is often present to counterbalance it. Its role is quite similar to hope’s, and often achieves similar (if not a bit less intelligent) results. Those of us motivated by fear (or in those times where we are motivated by fear), we look to the past in the opposite manner of those motivated by hope. We focus on the negative things in the world that (we believe) did not exist in the past. Something new has crept in. We didn’t notice it at first. But it’s gaining ground, threatening life as we know it. Seeking to make our children’s world even worse than ours. And we must fight it. Or something like that. Despite what wise Solomon said millennia ago, we convince ourselves that there are, in fact, a multitude of new things under the sun.

I should say that I am in many ways a pragmatist. I generally care more about what gets done than what motivated people to do it. Whether done in hope or fear, I believe a good act is a good act. However, that’s not really the issue. Man’s inherent “goodness” or “evilness”- whatever those terms mean- is not what I care about at the moment. As strictly a personal opinion, I think those “evil” men in the world have taken what is a good desire and perverted it or taken it to an extent which it was not meant to go. It’s hard for me to think they were simply born with the evil gene, while the rest of us were fortunate enough to receive the dominant allele. So, in that sense, I argue that we are back to the same fundamental question. What motivates us as a people? Throw out the cases where people do really good and really bad things. They are both, I have to believe, acting on what are (or at least were at some point) the same drive. The same ultimate goal.

We can take a purely Darwinian approach, holding that we simply want what is best for us and our offspring. Our genes want us to survive, to reproduce, to dominate. Whatever meets those goals is reinforced (selected for) and persists in future generations. It’s a good argument. It’s nearly impossible to come up with a case where someone acts in pure violation of this theory, where their actions and self interests do not align in any way. Social reciprocity serves as an adequate, selfish basis for all seemingly selfless acts. Any gaps in the theory can be filled in by the panacea that is the normal curve.

I think much of human behavior can, at the very least, be sufficiently explained in this light. We clearly pursue courses of action that lead to the betterment of our group. On any level of life, we strive to increase our status through our group. Countries war over this idea. Who, in the history of mankind, has honestly been okay with the idea that their nation could be taken over by another? The instances are rare. The point is that we don’t care as much about fundamental values as we do what is ours. I doubt many people, including myself, would say that as a personal statement. But, in practice it’s true. Nations across the world, and in every period of time, have differed (often in profound ways) on the core values they adhere to and push for in the rest of the world. Largely, we refuse to accept that someone else’s way is better and more desirable than ours. Logically that doesn’t make a bit of sense.

How can everybody think they’re right when there are always a multitude of options? How is it that we can be so quickly motivated to go to war, to die, for the values of our nation (and I’m not referring to America any more than any other country here)? I’m not for a second saying there isn’t a right answer. But that’s not relevant to the point here. We clearly and undeniably fight for what is ours instead of what is right in most cases. Granted, we generally believe that those two qualities are one and the same. Logically, however, we know that’s often not true.

Chronicles (Part VI): A Familiar Neighborhood

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.

9/4/2008

God’s neighborhood is not safe. It is not in suburban America far away from the gangs and the hookers and the infectious diseases. God’s neighborhood is not quiet or laid back or boring. No, God lives far away from security and comfort. He inhabits places of pain, suffering, and hardship. In fact, His very nature draws him to it. We are not saying that God is not omnipresent. Of course God can be found in every place in the world and can be served whole-heartedly there. However, Christ did not spend the majority of his ministry at the table of tax collectors, in the houses of whores, and at public executions for no reason. God is the great physician. He heals the sick and wounded. And if God is to be known it must be through the catastrophic effect he has on the world’s harshest conditions. If a doctor is to be made great it can only be through his healing the most difficult injuries, the most perplexing medical phenomena. Did Christ himself not say that it is the sick who need a doctor and not the self-righteous? So why do we as Christians seek out safety and security. Why do we value protection above everything else? The answers are obvious. Comfort. Stability. Human nature. However these must not be excuses. We are more than humans in Christ. We have within us the ultimate cure-all. Cancer. Malaria. Influenza. HIV. All of their spiritual-world equivalents (and in another sense these things themselves) are obliterated through the person of Jesus Christ. Yet we who possess the cure stay as far as possible from those who are sick. We visit them on occasion as a friend visits a dying man in a hospital as his time is approaching, looking upon him with pity and talking about everything except for what’s really on his mind. We talk about sports, about how comfortable his bed is and how good his meals are. But we all know all problems would be solved if he could simply get up and walk out of that hospital room, back to the life he was supposed to be living. It’s plain to see. So why must the children of God Almighty, possessing (or at least capable of possessing) the power of God Almighty, watch quietly as the patient dies? Wake up, you fools! Christ has defeated death, He has conquered sin.  We must stop living like we are on the losing team! And there is no other explanation for this than that we are afraid. We have become so comfortable in our nice, suburban American homes that we are scared of what may lie in wait outside the city walls. Too many generations have passed and too far removed are the stories that we have stopped believing we are bigger and badder than all the crap of the world. All the wolves and serpents, ghosts and goblins, beasts and villains, utterly collapse before the face of the Almighty God of the universe. He spoke them into being and with a whisper he can wipe them from the earth. Yet as we earnestly seek to bring God near to us, we even more earnestly seek to build the walls higher to keep the demons out. We are mistaken. God’s nature longs to run rampant through the beaten roads where few are willing to traverse. He desires nothing more to crash into a thousand evils and expose them all. He begs for us to bring Him (though He has all the power to do so on His own) into the taverns and whore houses and the living graveyards of earth. For it is in these dark corners that His glorious light shines brightest, that the demons cower lower and lower to the ground. Yet so few are willing to carry His light. And those that do go often allow the darkness to dampen their light because even they do not truly believe in its power. But believe me. The power contained in Christ is such that no one on earth has ever truly witnessed it. We have caught the faintest glimpses, echoes of echoes, the remnants of His passing by. And even these are enough to make the depths of Hell itself shudder. We must seize this power. We must fight in the alleys, in the sewers, among the enemy. Then we will truly see His power.