Constantine

We went to the dollar theater with a friend last night. Nothing was playing that we knew we wanted to see, so we picked a movie at random. It was Constantine. I can’t really recommend the movie, it was weakly acted and kind of campy, but there are some things it got me thinking about.

In the movie Constantine is the main character - played by Keanau Reeves. He is gifted in being able to see things around him that most of us, thankfully, don’t. He can see good and evil battling it out here on earth. He knows there’s a hell - he’s been there. He had committed suicide and thus gone to Hell. Somehow he finds himself back on earth (I’m afraid I missed how–and so not relevant to my thoughts on the movie). So, he believes in God and in Satan, Heaven and Hell. This belief, however, means very little. It’s easy for him to believe in these things because he’s seen the battle being waged all around him his entire life.

So, this is one point the movie makes. Belief is not enough for salvation. Even Satan believes in God. Something else is needed.

The movie has an odd, kind of quirky, humor to it. At one point Constantine is battling with a demon character. Constantine’s gotten the better of the demon and is about to send it back to it’s place. But he wants information from the demon. Killing it would only mean it goes back to Hell, where it’s rather happy to be. So instead Constantine threatens the demon with Heaven - with Salvation. I should note that the movie has a Catholic approach to things, so Constantine is giving the demon last rites in making this threat. The thought of going to Heaven is just to much for the demon, so he gives in and tells Constantine the information he has. Before Constantine dispatches the demon, he laughs and tells the demon that there really was no threat of Heaven, since the demon had not repented. So, one of the things needed is repentance.

In the movie we learn that Constantine is determined to earn salvation. In fact, that is his entire life. He has dedicated his life (well, his post-death life) to battling evil. He thinks this should earn him Salvation. But it seems clear that he is not going to win Salvation because his motives are not pure. He’s not doing the good things he does in order to do good, but rather in order to better his own position once he dies. In a sense he’s stuck. The movie did do a good job of getting me to relate to him in this, since I also thought he was stuck. If you’re trying to win Salvation, and so you’re doing good things in life, then aren’t you being selfish? And aren't you doing it right in God’s face, right where and when he’s most likely to see it? Can selfishness be the path to Heaven that Christ was trying to show us???? Some might think this the one exception. But when people cite powerful unyielding rigid rules that have just one exception, don’t you just have to think that one exception might be a little self serving?

In the movie, we are told that the key is self sacrifice. In this case, Constantine makes a very powerful self sacrifice. First, he again commits suicide. He does this to save the world, but it is clearly suicide, and it clearly means (in the movie) Hell instead of Heaven. Satan comes to collect him, but he can’t. Constantine is going to Heaven afterall. He sacrificed his salvation in order to save the world, and thus he won salvation! Before he can ascend, however, Satan intervenes and brings Constantine back to life in order to have another shot at getting his soul. Life, it seems, means another chance to corrupt Constantine. This not only sets us up for a sequel, but also makes for a ending more palatable for us earth bound beings, who really rarely see our death as a blessing, no matter what our final destination. I can’t help but wonder, also, if Constantine had really earned Heaven, since his character never really seemed to honestly repent.

I suspect that for anyone who is motivated by Salvation, this movie will be uncomfortable at best. But I think its good to be made uncomfortable sometimes.

I was most uneasy about the Gabriel character until just recently. The angel Gabriel plays a pivotal part in the movie. First a good character, then not so good. Gabriel is clearly one of God’s champions in the bible, so his (her?) seeming to have fallen doesn’t sit well. But then as I was writing this I realized that Gabriel also self sacrificed. Gabriel was also part of tricking Satan, or in this case, Satan’s son. stopping him from destroying the world. That explains the odd scene at the end where Gabriel, who seemed to be aiding Satan’s son for the last part of the movie, suddenly seems to be on Constantine’s side again (albeit in the role of an obnoxious, now mortal, teacher). This role reversal happens very quickly, a flicker too fast to be noticed, unless you’re familiar with the comic-book venues’ love of characters who seem at one point good, then evil, then good.

The movie is, I believe, based on the first book of a comic-book series. So, it leaves a lot of things undone. It is really a stage setting story. But there will likely be no followup movie. I had never heard of the movie, I don’t think they spent a nickle on advertising. And it might have gone directly to the dollar theater as a means of trying to recoup some of the money spent on it. There are many problems with the movie – it’s campy and poorly acted. Their were many complex and convoluted messages, which could not be adequately addressed in one movie, which resulted in none of the messages being clear. It’s also based on some notions that run counter to what many people believe, a difficult task made impossible given all the other shortcomings of the movie.

But, it addresses some things I’ve been thinking about. So it spoke to me, at least a little.
What I got from the movie, what speaks to me loudest today, is that the pursuit of Salvation may well have the opposite effect. If you’re pursuing Salvation, the movie seems to be saying to me, you may well be moving away from God instead of toward God. This might be more clearly stated another way. If Salvation is the ultimate reward, who are you, you worthless sinful worm, to be pursuing that??!!!

The message continues: Instead, I think, maybe you should set your goals a little lower. Baby steps. Seek, instead, to battle whatever little evil lies in front of you now. Do your part, which is likely something akin to scrubbing toilets. Don’t try to be a hero, because you’re not. If your goal is to save the world, you’ll spend your life trying to figure out how to even get started. If you make your goal trying to clean up an empty lot in your neighborhood, you stand a chance of success. Maybe you should try and befriend an abortionist–never preach to them or try to change them-just love them. Let them be ignorant that you’re a Christian for at least a couple years. Won’t the impact be tremendous when they find out that you are? Battle evil, but not for some reward you might be given someday. Battle evil because it’s evil and you want to be on the side of good. You want to be on the side of good because it’s good. Take your eye off the goal and get it on that which is right in front of you.

First posted some years ago on MySpace

How Great God's Grace?

Too much time has passed, so I’ve forgotten some of the details. But here’s the story as best I can remember it.

When I lived in Phoenix there was a story in the news about a man who had killed his young daughter. She was, I believe, about 2 years old. The news showed pictures of her. She looked like a little angel.

The motive was either that the man didn’t want to pay child support, or perhaps he wanted but was denied custody. Getting the motive right really isn’t important, of course, since what motive would we accept for what happened?

The news reported that the man took his daughter out into the desert to kill her. He doused her in gasoline, and then set her on fire. Her screams and flailing about upset him, so he left for awhile. When he returned, she was still alive, but dying. He stayed, watching her die, until he was sure she was gone.

We know that he did it. They taped him telling this story and showed it on TV.

So then, how do we not hate him? Worse yet, how do we obey our command to love him?

When I first heard about this story I found myself filled with hate for the man. Who wouldn’t? But then I saw the video of him telling the story. A chill went through me. Somehow, watching him tell what happened, it dawned on me that evil does exist in this world. And the tales of demons possessing people was true. Here it was in front of me.

Somehow, in his voice and demeanor, I could tell he wasn’t in charge of himself any more. He told the story in a soft quiet voice. They had to use subtitles so we could get everything he said. He told the story flat out, no remorse, no emotion, no guile. He seemed miles away. There is no way a human could do what he did and feel nothing.

What if the man were demon possessed? But what if part of him was still there? What if some small part of his humanity remained? Try, for just a minute, many just a second, and imagine it were you. Some evil possesses you. You lose control of your body. And you do that to your little girl. Horror. What you are feeling is what he most surely felt at some level – only a thousand times more. He wasn’t just imaging it for a second. He lived it.

Where is the greatest tragedy in this story? Who should your heart go out to? Who should you be praying for, sincerely, truly, honestly praying for?

Do you believe there is a battle being waged between good and evil? Do you believe in demons? Are any of us truly and fully safe?

I imagine Christ looking deeply into the eyes of someone like this man. Christ looks deep into their soul, finding the humanity still there, and tells them that he loves them. They probably don’t believe it. How could anyone love me now? So he says it again. And again, and again, and again. He does this until the demon’s can’t stand it anymore. They leave. And then Christ does something truly miraculous. The evil that was done is forgotten.

This probably isn’t the only way for us to find love for those who do evil. But it works for me.

First published on MySpace along time ago

Butterfly Minds

I wrote the following as an attempt at writing an op ed piece for a newspaper. I even submitted it to a couple before realizing that it is not really an op piece. It's in part autobiographical, in part fictional. It's in part literal and in part not. I think it would be most honest to say I am both the one raving and the one being raved against. It's about things I've been thinking about a lot lately. I think it would best be called a poem, although I think it funny that that isn't what I was trying to write, and I didn't even realize that was what it was for a long time. What do you think?:

BUTTERFLY MINDS

My mind is a whirlwind. No, a butterfly. It is early still.

My mind is a butterfly, flitting about from one flower of thought to another.

I have been reading about postmodernism. Intuition, feelings, longings. The heart of man, it seems, is fighting back.

The heart was always there, of course. But now we are acknowledging it again. Finding value in it. Or, at least, some of us are.

Some not so much. Some of you, with your logical linear rationality, are afraid. You are afraid of our stream of consciousness thinking. You cannot keep up with us.  “My God,” you exclaim, “slow down!” No. You keep up. I am at my highest, my best mood, my best thinking, and you want me to slow down? Buzz-kill.

Quit telling me to wait for the day when your God or your Science will reveal the truth. I am here now. Talk to me in the now. And quit telling me about your absolute truths, your unchanging God, your objective Holy Science. What does all that mean, outside of one’s head? I see how your conclusions keep changing. Hypocrite. You keep your dead God and dead Science. Mine live. I see God’s heart, beating, living, in his poetry and parables. Why do you only seek his mind? And I do not need to dissect butterflies to see nature’s beauty and majesty. Why do you? What kind of perversion is that?

Am I going too fast? Keep up!

I see the subjective nature of truth. I see how in the application truth depends on who I am, where I am, what I am doing. I am comfortable with that. Why aren’t you?

Quit thinking so much. Life might be a lesson, but there’s no exam. I have learned a lot. I have seen a lot. You should try it sometime. Try feeling, seeing, being, instead of just thinking. I see you hesitate before hugging me goodbye. Why? You are thinking! Stop it. Feel. Be.

And do not try to box me in with your old fashioned logic. I see you taking my presuppositions, my basic beliefs and founding tenets, to their logical conclusions. But that is one of my problems with your rationality and logic. Anything, if taken to its logical conclusion, will look bad. You fear the logical conclusions of my thoughts. Stop it. It is your logic that is taking you there, not me.

I hear academics and religion freaks telling you what I think. Funny, seeing them in the same boat. Do not listen to them. Listen to me. They are afraid. Maybe they should be. Their cold-blooded Science, their rational logical God, are things of the past. They are quickly becoming obsolete, outdated, outmoded, slowly sinking in their leaden boats of objective truth. They are afraid. That is all they can tell you.

My mind is a butterfly. Leave it alone. You keep your Ritalin. You adapt to me! Quit boring me. Keep up. Or maybe you can go off and live in the woods somewhere. Dreaming of your old slow world. Mine is the world today. You go dream of yesterday.

First published on MySpace - not sure when (probably 2005ish)

Of Fish and Frog

3:00 am - can't sleep - too many thoughts going round in my head ---

My wife brought me a present at work the other day - it was a fish and a frog in a plastic fishbowl. She was so happy as she pulled it out of the bag - wanting to surprise me - wanting to bring some color to my dull drab cubicle bound days.

But then I looked up from the fish and frog into her face - her beaming smile had vanished - her eyes moist and red - fighting back tears. What had done this to her?!! What had upset her like this? As usual, it was I.

I can plead innocent of any malice aforethought - mine was not a crime of intent. But I had reacted. And not in the way she had hoped. It was fleeting - but it was enough. She knew I didn't want the fish there.

I knew it as well. But I didn't know why. I came up with many nice rationalizations - it's too much work - I'll be away from the office to much to take care of them properly - it might even smell. I was right about all of these. But I think she and I both knew that didn't really explain my reaction.

Over a week later, I think I've just now come to the answer. Maybe I'm a little slow. Or maybe this is the kind of thing we don't like to admit to ourselves. But I think my reaction was really that having a fish at work is simply not within the social norm of the office -- its not conforming -- its simply not done. I do think that was the reaction she saw that upset her. I think the first thought in my head when I saw the fish was "You don't have fish at work!"

The rationalizations then followed.

(In fact, I just realized, I've never seen any co-worker's spouse at my workplace, drab place that it is, so I was probably already a little selfconscious to begin with.)

All this, however, is not what I've come here to say.

This realization, which was one of the many, many things swirling about in my head keeping me awake (can't write about them all in this finite time I have), this realization led me to think about my life. And what I realized next was this:

I'm solidily, clearly, unambiguously -- middle age.

This led to me thinking about - for some reason - old people. One can, if one wants, split life up into three main stages - young, old, and middle age. I'm clearly middle age - not only by being in the middle of my statistical life span - but also in my values, norms, life-style, etc. I had always thought of middle age as the boring stage - and here I am - balking at having a fish at work because it's just too radical. Which is how, I think, I got to thinking about old age. That's my next stage, after all. But I tend to think of it as actually less boring than middle age. Or at least it can be.

Some old people seem to be like the walking dead - animated but not really living. But many seem to find a renewed life. I've seen it happen many times. Boring middle age people grow into interesting characters. In fact, I'd often thought of old people as being rather caricature-like, with their funny exaggerated looks and ways.

This got me thinking about what I meant by caricature - which I realized is really just old people losing their self-conciousness - their being themselves - honest in a living life way.

This then got me thinking about kids. They're the same way. That's one of the things we love about kids. Their honesty is refreshing and fun. This got me thinking about how God has told us that we have to approach him like little children. I think this means honestly like little children are honest, living and being without being overly self-conscious. Maybe that's what the old folks are doing - the ones we admire for their renewed candor. Maybe they've learned to be honest in a way that God wants us all to be -- like little children.

The fish and frog are out of the office. They really did have to go. But I didn't have to be self-conscious about them. I still have a lot to learn in this life, and I'm truly blessed to have a wonderful wife to help me with that. I'll continue my struggles with myself and with becoming whatever it is God wants me to be. I do think there is hope for me yet!

I should probably also note that I am not longing for old age, not by any means. Nor do I wish to be younger. This is truly the greatest period of my life. I've never known such joy and contentment. I'll still complain about things, and still struggle with things, but I am finally truly happy. Thank you God for a wife who would bring me a fish and frog to brighten my workplace!

First published on MySpace on April 28, 2005

When the Saints Come Marching In

When I was living in Phoenix a friend invited me to her new church. I told her I had looked at a number of churches when I moved there but that, as usual, none spoke to me in any real way. She was my age and had a similar opinion of religion (namely: There is probably some good there, but it’s not really for me). But this service, she said, was different. She was going there in part because of her kids, it was relevant to them, but the service also spoke to her.

I finally went with her. It was one of the first contemporary services I’d been to. The music was upbeat, powerful, and invigorating. It was also very successful in terms of the number of people it was drawing. This is a trend I’ve noticed ever since.

One of the first things I noticed at this church was that the cross was on the floor, leaning in a corner, as if it had fallen and someone had just stuck it there, out of the way. It almost looked forgotten. I commented on it to my friend, and asked her why it was like that. She didn’t know either.

When the service was over, a couple people sitting around us greeted us. One woman who had been sitting directly in front of us apologized for overhearing our conversation about the cross, and explained that for them the cross was no longer what matters, since Christ had arisen. There faith, she said, was in a living God.

That is all I remember of the service. I have no idea what was preached. But the cross on the floor, and the reason for it, has always stuck with me. Sometimes the simplest symbol can be the most powerful thing.

As it turned out, I wasn’t ready yet to consciously seek a relationship with God. I didn’t return to this church. But this experience was a small but important step in my journey. It is in part why as I begin my search for God it is a living God I seek. Most churches I’ve visited seem to have some notion that God lives. They at least threw out references to a living God from time to time. But most have failed to show that they really believe it. Either the message, or the music, or just the general mood has too often been more of mourning than rejoicing. One gets the feeling that their God is still up on the cross.

All this makes me think of the New Orleans style funeral services, where they are full of grief and mourning on their way to the gravesite, but then come back energized, happy, strutting around full of joy. Shouldn’t that be what a Christian service is like? Perhaps some quite reflection and contemplation in the beginning, perhaps even a little mourning at our fallen state, but then a joyous riot rejoicing our salvation – Christ Is Risen!

Isn’t that what distinguishes Christianity? Isn’t that its strength? Shouldn’t that be the focus? Isn’t the message one of Joy?


(Note: It would be a mistake to take this as a condemnation of any specific church. I fully appreciate that there is no such thing as a church that's right for everyone. It varies depending on one's path. My path, however, is such that I need the joyful noise approach.)

First published on MySpace, May 9, 2005

Stephen King is a depraved, vile, disgusting worm

Stephen King is a depraved, vile, disgusting worm. I'd like to be just like him.

I've always wondered what kind of person Stephen King must be. If you've ever read any of his books or seen any movies based on those books, and I highly recommend that you don't do either, you likely have wondered the same thing. What kind of person comes up with such disgusting filth? (Ok, he's written a few good books, but really for the most part...)

Well, I've come to realize, we all do. I think that is why King is so popular. It surely isn't for his great prose, and not because he tells a good story. I think his success stems from his uncommon honesty. He tells tales that we all (shudder!) can relate to. He writes about the things we all think about, and then quickly purge from our memories, lest we lose our sanity. When we read his books we think, at least subconsciously--Oh good, I'm not the only one who is depraved.

I've recently "become a Christian." Perhaps more accurately, an extremely intelligent pastor defined "Christian" for me in such a way that I can now call myself that. Ironically, many people probably don't think that I'm a "real" Christian, since I don't believe whichever thing they think I must. I say this is ironic because I feel certain that I am a Christian, I am certain the definition gifted to me (and to my then fiancee) was very true. I say ironic because it is due to my being a Christian that I have read and studied and thought about a type of honesty integral to Christian faith, and I have come to realize that I have been failing miserably at it. But I'm not alone.

I remember President Jimmy Carter being made a fool of in the media for admitting that he had lust in his heart. I believe he made this public confession in response to a question of whether he sinned. I didn't understand the public reaction at the time, but I'm starting to think maybe I do now. When President Carter answered that question in that way, he was lying to the world. He wasn't lying in the sense that he did not indeed lust in his heart. We know that was true because who doesn't? But that is the lie -- his confession was no confession. It probably was, in fact, a self-serving self-aggrandizing statement worthy of public ridicule. By confessing to this sin, he was saying, implicitly, that he didn't have worse sins. When someone admits to being a sinner, and then gives as an example a silly sin such as lust, he is, in fact, at best ignoring, and perhaps even outright denying, his real sins. But we know his sins run deeper. We know he is depraved. Because he's human. President Carter was lying to us all, and he was using his religion to do it! Talk about being a depraved, vile, disgusting worm. Funny, though, I wish I were even half the man that he is.

Perhaps it would be better to take a look at a "real" person, someone a little closer to home. Take, for example, me. I've talked to people about being a sinner. I've also used the lust example President Carter gave. But all too often someone else involved in the conversation beats me to that one. In that case, I like to use the one two punch of gluttony and sloth. I thus get to confess to two sins! But really, anyone who can see knows that already. Its probably the first thing anyone knows about me when they meet me. So why do I say it? Because I really don't want to admit a sin. But who am I fooling when I make this false confession? No one. You all know that I'm really a depraved, vile, disgusting worm. And you're 100 percent correct. But I think I do myself and everyone a disservice when I "confess" something already known. Wouldn't it be refreshing if I admitted that, on the way to church, I had thought about running the little old lady down who was holding me up at the traffic light?

I've occassionally had people confess real sins to me. As an example, a couple women I know admitted that there were times when they actually found themselves hating their babies. (Imagine a collicy baby crying non-stop for days). These were both women I'd always thought were great moms, patient and loving and kind. I was very surprised at the first confession, but then then less so with the second. I was learning. As someone thinking about having kids, I think these confessions were great gifts to us. We'll suffer that much less, be that much less likely to think ourselves vile unfit parents if (when?) we find ourselves in similar circumstances.

But the confessions were also of great help to these women. They brought their sins out into the open, into the light of day, and were thus able to see that they really weren't that bad. Hate is a real sin, one of the worst, and it seems much worse when directed at a baby. But we all hate.

And so, Stephen King. He must have the best job in the world. He gets to take all the evil in his heart and throw it out there for all the world to see. And he gets paid well for his effort. I'd like to be that kind of Christian. I'd like to be able to confess my sins in such an honest way. The truth is I'm not so brave, so most of it will have to remain between me and God. But I do hope at least to quit abusing the confession process. When someone asks if I sin, I hope that if I can't give a real example, I'll simply say yes, and leave it at that.

First published on MySpace, May 3, 2005

Arguments for God

This was inspired in large part by things I read on MySpace. I saw many people argue in the forum and groups sections that there is no proof that God exists. I guess they are ultimately correct, but only in the same sense that there is no proof for the existence of other things very important to us – such as love, beauty, truth, good, and evil.

Instead of trying to prove the improvable, I thought it might be an interesting exercise to see how many arguments I could find to support the following proposition: You should be seeking God.


1. The Evolution Argument:

This is one of my favorites. I believe that the theory of evolution is a very valuable tool. It explains a lot. I use it when I think about the world I find myself in, about my journey in this life, about my country and culture, religion, music, movies, love, God, etc. It is one of my most basic intellectual paradigms.

Here’s the argument:

a. Evolution tells us that characteristics of living things generally have benefits. The more costly the characteristic, the more important it must be, otherwise the characteristic would have been bred out. For example, we humans have very expensive brains. They use up a lot of calories, make childbirth more dangerous, are difficult to maintain well, and are too easily injured. When they are injured, we become very vulnerable. So, evolution tells us they must be very valuable, there must be a big upside to having complex brains.

b. Belief in God is close to a universal characteristic of humans, and it appears this has been true for a very long time. This characteristic, however, is very expensive. Our belief in God has been used and abused by many, both throughout history and today, to our detriment. Wars, crusades, inquisitions, sacrifice, tributes, etc, are just some of the costs that come to mind. Even today many people spend at least some of their time and money in pursuit of God. A few even dedicate their lives to the task.

c. So, evolution tells us, there must really be a big upside to believing in God.


2. The Logic Argument:

This is my least favorite approach. I’m probably not familiar enough with logic, but let me take a stab at it:

a. It seems to me that all logical arguments start with some presupposition. For example, a logical argument might go: Assume all birds sing, we have a bird, therefore we have something that sings. So, wouldn’t the best logical argument for the existence of God be: Assume God. b. Maybe there’s a better one. How about the argument: There might be a God whose nature is such that one must believe in God or else suffer eternal damnation. If you chose to believe in God and are wrong you are no better or worse off than if you hadn’t. If you chose to not believe in God, however, and you are wrong, you will suffer eternal hell fire.This is probably the closest I’ve seen to a persuasive “logical” argument for believing in God. I’ve always hated it. Problems with this approach:a. First, and foremost, as was cleverly pointed out by Luke (take the time to journey to his website through the MySpace friends links), this leaves you wondering which God you should believe in, which religion you should be practicing. What if, for example, both Christianity and Islam demand that you believe them, and only them, lest you fry? (That’s not my understanding of Christ’s message, by the way, but that’s a bag of worms for another day).

b. (Uhmm, I guess I do have to stir those worms up a little) This is in essence the – love me or I might torture you forever argument, which seems to be based on an odd idea of what love is. (Maybe this is the S&M argument?)(I can’t help but think of Star Trek’s Spock when I hear arguments like this. The problem is, I think, ultimately one of only seeing a small part of God’s creation. Far too much of it seems “highly illogical.” Where’s the logic in love, self-sacrifice, empathy, intuition, longings?)

c. This ignores the fact that there can be a big cost in believing in God, as I noted in the evolution argument.

d. It can too easily be trumped by the (logically superior?) argument: Assume No God. At that point the logician isn’t going to hear anything about the nature of God. He’s assumed God away. You can only counter it with the equally powerful (or, perhaps, equally lame), Assume God.

e. Nonetheless, some seem to be persuaded by the logic argument.


3. The Humanist Argument:

This is one I like, although it’s a little tricky. The argument is basically: Religion makes people feel better. The trickiness:It can be one of the most powerful arguments if you are talking to decent kindhearted non-believers IF your goal is to end the discussion. It doesn’t necessarily win them over, but rather points out to them that if they win the argument they will be hurting you or others. So, they will often wish you luck with your religion, and they might even support religious endeavors, but they will often think that they are strong enough (intellectually, emotionally, etc) to not need God. The reason it is still a good argument, I think, is that most people will someday come to a point in life when they realize that they can’t make it on their own, that they need a moral framework, or some reason behind it all, that only God can provide. They may realize that most of the feel good approaches, alcohol, easy sex, drugs, porn, blind patriotism, “objective” science and reason, TV vegging, computer games, etc., just ain’t doing it for them in the long run, so maybe they’ll give that religion thing a try. I should note, some Christians, apparently, are wary of their religion making people feel good. This baffles me, but I’ll let that go, for now


4. The Postmodern Argument

This is my personal favorite. I think it represents the lion’s share of why I started looking for God. The term Postmodern can be problematic. People seem to be using it in different ways. Here, I mean postmodern in the sense of finding the dominant modern approach (science, empiricism, reason) to be seriously lacking in providing guidance and explanations for many important things. I came to realize that modernity really couldn’t explain important things to me, such as how to live a good life, how to be happy, what marriage was, how to be a good husband, etc. Modernity failed to provide me with a reason for my existence. Religion hasn’t answered all this fully, but it does better than science ever did, and to be fair I haven’t gotten all that deep into religion yet to know all what it can answer. There does seem to be a lot there, though.

5. The other big reason that I’m aware of for believing in God is that people simply believe in God because they do. This is not to be confused with the logic argument. There is no logical assumption. They simply believe. I really don’t understand this, but I find it fascinating. How do they do that?!! My guess is that they are born and raised to be a believer. My guess is that as they are learning their name and as they are learning about those fascinating fingers and toes, they are also learning that God exists. Or perhaps they never have that inner voice that draws us all to God quashed. Or perhaps it’s both. I don’t know. But some people really seem to know that God exists in the same way that they know their name, or in the same way they know how to move their hands around. That’s wonderful. I like learning from them, and hope they find some value in hearing about my journey as well.

First published on MySpace in May 2005

Imagine

Imagine there's no heaven,

It's easy if you try,

No hell below us,

Above us only sky

The opening lyrics of John Lennon's Imagine. This is a song which I, like many people, always ranked high on my list of most beautiful songs. When I started actively seeking God, however, I started having problems with it. I think it likely that John Lennon was an atheist. His message was not anchored in any religious belief.

Or was it?

I've always hated when people - usually English teachers - argue what a poem means by trying to get into the head of the writer. I think it much more productive to get into the head of the reader. Isn't that how poetry differs from prose? At least in degree if not in kind. If a writer of poetry wanted to simply tell you what he thought, wouldn't he just say "I love her" rather than telling us that his love is a red, red rose...? Poetry is using language to tell truths that can't be fully told in another way. It does this by getting the reader to supply much of the truth. That is, I think, the power of poetry.

So, back to my Imagine. As I moved toward God over the past half dozen years or so, I found myself less and less comfortable with this song I loved so much in my youth. I've lost many things on this journey toward God, but not much that I regret losing. Imagine was an exception. When it came on the radio, I'd find myself lamenting the beauty I once found there.

Imagine there's no heaven...

How can such a sublime song, one which always touched me in such a profound way, how could it be so against this new beautiful thing I had found?

The answer, I think, is it can't. I've finally come to understand Imagine to be one of the most deeply religious songs I know. John Lennon was probably, as far as I can tell, an atheist. But he was, like all of us, created in God's image, whether he liked it or not. And he, like all of us, was being called by God. He had somewhere deep within him, like we all do, a sense of Eden, a sense of our pre-fallen existence. And isn't that the picture he is painting in this song? Wasn't it the case that there was no heaven and hell in the beginning - everything was united? Isn't hell just separation from God? Or if not (my theology might be off?), if not, wasn't it at least the case that Adam and Eve were not aware of heaven and hell? ANd did they have religion? I don't think so. Not, at least, in the sense that we mean it. They didn't need faith. They simply existed--with God. Where's the religion in that?

John Lennon, I think, was listening to his inner longings and wrote this beautiful song in response, while all the time not fully understanding its ultimate source. I really don't care about his conscious thoughts about the song. What matters is what he said -- or rather what the song says -- to me!

So, that's what I woke up thinking about.

Thanks God for giving me back Imagine.

First published on MySpace, May 3, 2005

WHY I BELIEVE IN GOD

First, I think, it’s probably important to note what I think it means to “Believe in God.” And to do that, I’ll start by saying what it isn’t. It doesn’t mean that I believe at every moment of every day. My belief is a struggle at times. Sometimes it isn’t there at all. And, it doesn’t mean that even when the belief is there that I always have the same impression of what God is like or what God is all about. Actually, it's changing all the time.

I don’t think I’m alone in this struggle. I’ve read many accounts of people, even people we think of as deeply religious who struggle in this way. It is good for me to have heard these people’s stories. Their honesty and openness in this struggle has helped me keep up the fight. I hope I can be as open and honest.

So, what do I mean when I say I believe in God? In part, I mean that I’ve come to the point where I see the evidence for God as being stronger than the evidence against. This is the source of my intellectual belief in God. Getting to this point has been a mental exercise, in large part one of removing intellectual barriers. C.S. Lewis helped me a lot. So did many intelligent and wise Christian pastors, preachers, strangers and friends.

Another part of what I mean by believing in God is acknowledging to myself that I am drawn to God in ways that have always been, and largely remain, a mystery to me. This is almost the opposite of the first. This is the non-intellectual belief in God. I had to get to a point in life where I realized that my intellect was not nearly enough to understand the world or myself or to have a full life. I had to find value in my intuitions, feelings, emotions, longings. And I had to learn to start listening to them more and my intellect less. This struggle is, I think, my fight with modernity. This is the source of my passionate reactions against objectivity, logic, rationality, empiricism, and science. I haven’t abandoned them, not by any means. And I don’t aim to. There’s far too much value there. But I do think that I’m too logical and rational in my approach to life. And I don’t like it. I think understanding things intellectually is just a small part of what we are here for. I remember a comment my Grandmother made to me after some personal tragedy. She was visiting, and when she was leaving I gave her a hug as I usually did. But she said it was the first time I didn’t stop the hug first. I’ll never forget that. I long for the day when I can hug people, and interact with them in general, and have it feel totally natural. This is, I think, a longing for the heart of God, which we can probably best find in this world in each other.

Perhaps the most important thing when I say I believe in God is it means that I think God is good and that knowing God and having a relationship with God is good. This, what is in many ways my strongest way of believing in God, is probably best seen as a process. I will never fully know God in this life. But I think life might be the process of getting to know God. I can even believe in God in this way when I fail to in other ways. In fact, it was this way of believing in God that led me to him in the fuller sense in the first place. Back in the days when I didn’t believe in God intellectually, in the days when I wasn’t listening to what my intuitions and feelings were telling me, I would nonetheless often find myself talking to God or thinking about what God was trying to do in my life. Sometimes I would even find myself angry at God—that is—the God who I didn’t acknowledge existed!! In other words, I think I had a relationship with God even without knowing it! It wasn’t intellectual, and I didn’t value my non-intellect at that time, but it was there and it was real. I think that was why the Footprints poem about walking on the beach with God was so powerful to me – I think at some level I knew all along that God was there with me and that I might someday be able to see it. I think the poem spoke to a longing I had that I couldn’t admit to myself had any value.

So that is why I believe in God. I could and might someday extrapolate on the above. But I think it important to understand the above if one wants to understand the rest of my thoughts on God. You might have noticed something I didn’t say. I didn’t say I believe in God in order to win Salvation. And I didn’t say I believe in God in order to avoid damnation. Those things don’t really draw me to God. In fact, they push me away. I’m still trying to understand the place Heaven and Hell have in my belief system. I’m even struggling with trying to understand why it affects me so strongly to think or discuss it. In part I suspect it is because it kept me away from God for so long. So many people tried to win me over to God in many ways. Often they would make some headway, but then ruin it by adding that I would be rewarded with Heaven, or that I would avoid eternal punishment. At that point I’d feel God slip away from me. “Love me or be damned!” It just doesn’t work for me.

(First posted on MySpace, May 1, 2005.)