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.

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.