"Thank You"

I work at a Christian bookstore (no, I won't tell you which one).  Last night, a customer came in (like they do).  One of my co-workers answered all her questions, was very polite and helpful, and in doing so was even staying after her shift should have ended to help us get ready for closing.  The lady made her purchases, and then asked my co-worker "Now what do you say?"  There were several of us behind the counter, and we didn't understand what the woman wanted.  With all of us having failed her little test, she proceeded to launch into a vicious and angry tirade about how no one says thank you, questioning my co-worker's decency as a human being for failing to do so, and saying that "God wants you to say it." 

Rarely in my life do I feel the desire to slap little old ladies, but I felt it pretty strongly last night.  I know retail is a tough place to work, and these sorts of things happen all the time (with Christian businesses and non-Christian businesses alike).  But they shouldn't.  Being in a position of power over someone doesn't give you the right to treat them like they're less than human, and I wish that as a society we could understand that.

The Nature of Suffering and Grief; Does God Even Care?

My great grandma (my dad's grandma) died on Sunday. She was 105, and while that was a long and full life, she did suffer quite a bit before she died, having trouble breathing and wasting away to what looked like a skeleton with skin. My mom's dad has Alzheimer's disease, and while he struggled with it at first, he has now been reduced to little more than an infant in his mid 80's, and now my mom languishes over why this happened to her father. Her mother has dementia, and loses more and more of her mind everyday. I do not consider any of these people to be bad people. As a matter of fact, they are some of the best people I have ever known.

I have often heard it asked (and occasionally wondered myself) "If there is a benevolent God behind creation, why is there so much pain and suffering?" "If God is all powerful, and he wants good things for us, then why do bad things happen to good people?" Let me preface my examination of these subjects with a disclaimer: I do not know of an answer to these questions that will satisfy anyone and everyone. I also do not believe that this is the sort of problem to which you can simply be told the answer. Like most of life's important questions, I think you have to find the answer for yourself.

As I am a devout theist of the Judeo-Christian persuasion, I am committed to the following three axioms: (1) There is a God. (2) This God is Maximally Powerful (by which I mean that all things which are logically possible and consistent with God's character, God can do), and (3) This God is benevolent. Were I to negotiate any one of these principles, the answer would be simple. Without principle 1, principles 2 & 3 no longer apply, and we are left to our own devices in a cold and indifferent universe. Without principle 2, we have a God who is benevolent and wishes to help, but simply lacks the power to do so. And, without principle 3, we have a God who is entirely capable of helping, but lacks the compassion to desire to do so.

So, how do I reconcile a God who has the power to stop suffering, desire an end to suffering, yet still refuses to bring this end about? Well, there is first a question to be dealt with, and that is to what extent God desires the independence of human beings. And, since God is a God who deals almost exclusively in secret, desiring faith without physical evidence, it would seem that God does not want us to simply have all of our problems solved for us, so, God chooses not to act when God could.

At this point, one might object that even if God doesn't act all of the time, there are times when God should. This leads to a philosophical conundrum known as the Problem of the Pile. I drop a grain of sand on the table. This is not a pile. I repeat with two grains, three grains, four grains, etc., and there is no magical number at which it ceases to be individual grains of sand and becomes a pile. The analogy here is that there is no magically quantity at which the interaction of God becomes too little or too much. Perhaps God chooses simply to err on the side of caution.

Another possible explanation for the seeming inactivity of God is that God is acting, all the time, yet God acts in such minute and imperceptible ways upon the infintecimally complex calculus of existence, that we are simply ignorant of God's constant intervention.

However, of all the ways in which it is possible to interpret suffering, there are some which I deem to be vastly inappropriate, as they are directly inconsistent with the nature and character of God. God does not kill people because he needs more angels in heaven. Nor does God rain down punishment upon the wicked, hoping that they will confess of some secret sin. If anything, our suffering causes God just as much pain as it causes us. I'll leave you with a quote from one of my favorite books on suffering, Lament For a Son, by Nicholas Wolterstorff.

"God is not only the God of the sufferers but the God who suffers. The pain and fallenness of humanity have entered into his heart. Through the prism of my tears I have seen a suffering God. It is said of God that no one can behold his face and live. I always thought this meant that no one could see his splendor and live. A friend said that perhaps it meant that no one could see his sorrow and live. Or perhaps his sorrow is splendor."

P.S. shameless plug: If you have yet to do so, check out my other blog, Rules to Live Your Life By, and my newest blog, Syllabic Restraints.

“The Promised Land always lies on the other side of a wilderness.”

Let The One Who Has Ears Hear

A man planted a vineyard. He put a wall around it, dug a pit for the winepress and built a watchtower. Then he rented the vineyard to some farmers and went away on a journey. At harvest time he sent a servant to the tenants to collect from them some of the fruit of the vineyard. But they seized him, beat him and sent him away empty-handed. Then he sent another servant to them; they struck this man on the head and treated him shamefully. He sent still another, and that one they killed. He sent many others; some of them they beat, others they killed. He had one left to send, a son, whom he loved. He sent him last of all, saying, "They will respect my son." But the tenants said to one another, "This is the heir. Come, let's kill him, and the inheritance will be ours." So they took him and killed him, and threw him out of the vineyard.

“The Promised Land always lies on the other side of a wilderness.”

Sometimes Truth Isn't Good Enough

"Because sometimes truth isn't good enough. Sometimes people deserve more. Sometimes people deserve to have their faith rewarded."

The first time I saw The Dark Knight, I couldn't stop thinking about these words Batman says right before he runs away to bear the brunt of the people's anger at the actions committed by Harvey Dent that they believe were committed by Batman. And as I read them again, I wonder: do I actually believe they are true? Do I believe that we should lie to people and reward their faith even if what they believe is wrong?

And the answer is that I'm not sure. I don't really like to lie. I was a rambunctious child once, so I learned how to lie and do it moderately well, but I've never felt good about lying to people. Yet, at the same time, if people have faith and that faith is proven true far less often than it appears to fail them, then they will lose hope. And, if people have lost hope, there is little chance of motivating them to make the world around them a better place. I definitely don't want people to lose hope, which means I want people to have faith. The only question is whether the desired outcome of faith is worth the occasional lie or half-truth to motivate people in certain ways so that they will want to make the world a better place.

“The Promised Land always lies on the other side of a wilderness.”

It's Not How I Thought It Would Be, But It's All Right

I love the Chronicles of Narnia, both the books and the movies. I love the adventures of the Pevensie children, I love the mythical creatures, and I love the way that Aslan interacts with the world he has created. I especially love the story of the Pevensies as Walden Media is telling it this time around in the films, especially Prince Caspian. (If you haven't seen the movie, don't read this if you don't want me to spoil a plot point or two.)

I know a lot of people don't like Prince Caspian as much as the last film (certainly evident by the ticket sales), but I love it. I love the way that the Pevensies struggle with their frustration at being kids again when they used to be not only grownups, but kings and queens. I love how they struggle with faith in Aslan. I love how the White Witch comes and tempts them, and is defeated by the only Pevensie who really knows exactly what it means to serve her.

To me, the central theme of The Chronicles of Narnia: Prince Caspian is the idea of what it means to be home. Perhaps one of the reasons I love the film so much is that I often struggle with this concept. They say home is where the heart is, and the Pevensies certainly left their hearts in Narnia when they returned to our world. I'm fairly confident in saying most of us would rather live the life of a king or queen in a magical wonderland full of life and joy than a life of rationing and fear of being blown up in WWII era England. But, it's more than that. The Pevensies spent more time in Narnia than they did in our world. They grew to adulthood. They learned what it meant to be kings and queens, commanding respect and honor, and then returned to a world where nobody listened or cared about what they had to say.

Then, after all their hoping and longing for a return to the world they had left behind, they finally return to Narnia. And, when they arrive, they find Narnia subjugated by a foreign enemy, their castle a mere ruin, and so much time has passed that everyone they cared for and knew in Narnia was long dead. They were no longer even the heroes of their own story. And that's the point. Too often we spend all of our time hoping and wishing for a world that no longer exists. We dream of home as this place where everything is always okay, and the world can't get to us anymore, but that's not what home is.

As a college student, I've learned that you really can't ever go home again. Not to say that I don't love my parents or enjoy spending time with them. But, when I do, I'm not home anymore. What was home is now just a collection of memories. I've reached the age where home is going to be whatever I make of it. Ultimately, home is merely a state of mind: the place where you are most comfortable. The place where you truly feel as if you belong.

And that is what the Pevensies found when they returned to Narnia. They didn't find the place they remembered, and they didn't find what they had hoped for, but they did find peace and contentment. I guess another way of saying you're home is saying that you are comfortable in your own skin. We spend so much time and energy chasing after a dream, a fantasy, a mere memory, when all along home is right here waiting for us when we accept that home can only be what we make of it.

“The Promised Land always lies on the other side of a wilderness.”

Loves Like a Hurricane, I Am A Tree

Oh, worship songs. I know that the intent is pure, but they often border on the ludicrous. However, every so often, a song goes above and beyond. Leaving behind the realm of the ludicrous, they pass directly into the absurd.

Back in September, I posted the lyrics of the most ridiculous worship song I had ever heard. I had believed this song could never be topped due to its utterly befuddling lyrics. However, today in chapel, I heard a competitor for this title. Without further ado, behold: How He Loves Us.

He is jealous for me
Loves like a hurricane, I am a tree
Bending beneath the weight of His wind and mercy
When all of a sudden, I am unaware
of these afflictions eclipsed by glory
and I realize just how beautiful You are
and how great your affections are for me.

Oh, how He loves us so
Oh, how He loves us
How He loves us so.

Yeah, He loves us
Woah, how He loves us
Woah, how He loves us
Woah, how He loves.

So we are His portion and He is our prize,
Drawn to redemption by the grace in His eyes
If grace is an ocean we're all sinking

So heaven meets earth like a sloppy wet kiss
and my heart turns violently inside of my chest
I don't have time to maintain these regrets
when I think about the way

That he loves us,
Woah, how He loves us
Woah, how He loves us
Woah, how He loves

He loves us,
Woah, how He loves us
Woah, how He loves us
Woah, how He loves

Woah how he loves us indeed. So, readers, give me your vote: which song is more absurd, and why?

:Edit: For a complete critique of this song, visit this link.

My Confession of Faith

So, on Thursday I blogged about an open letter than had been written concerning the Nazarene Article of Faith on scripture. Apparently an anonymous (and presumably atheist) reader of my blog didn't appreciate this, saying that:

"The problem is, you still think that some guy died, and three days later hopped back-up like a guru, wall-walking zombie. Furthermore, you think that this zombie guy's take on life 2000 years ago, long before science was even dreamt of, should somehow be trusted today. 'Oh, he's God!' You'll still say, just like the fundamentalist you decry. But you only believe that because you read it in the magic book. So now who is using circular reasoning? Geesh--liberal Christians are still stupid, it's just their island of stupidity is a bit smaller than their fundamentalist cro-mag neighbors."

So, in the interest of not being a "guy [who] believes religious fantasy for reasons he won't reveal ON HIS OWN BLOG", I will blog on the reasons why I am a confessing believer in the Christian faith.

There are several reasons I choose to believe the confessions of the Christian faith, such as that Jesus Christ was divine and that he died and was resurrected three days later. Honestly, the reasons I believe are not in any way driven by reason. They can be shown to be supportable by reason, but I didn't dispassionately assess criteria and then after weighing all the pros and cons of both sides of the argument come to the most reasonable and justifiable conclusion. The reasons I came to faith are emotive. I can offer defense against arguments against Christianity all day long, but they are not the reasons I believe. The reason I have faith is that I feel the weight of my sins, and I believe that Jesus Christ can forgive them and offer me a way of life that is better than what I could have without him.

Anonymous, if that isn't good enough for you, feel free to raise questions concerning the validity of Christian beliefs, and I'd be more than willing to answer them to the best of my ability.

“The Promised Land always lies on the other side of a wilderness.”