Friday, March 30, 2018

Faith: A Bad Rap


It seems to me faith is something that is mistreated. Faith is mocked, scorned, and ridiculed. One who has a firm, unshakable faith can also be referred to as someone with "a blind faith". It is a funny misnomer in my opinion, because the one with this kind of faith, in fact sees plenty. They see the world of the unseen and acknowledge its truth and its power. They see more, not less. The Bible says, "Blessed are those who have not seen and yet have believed" (John 20:29). Why? What exactly is faith and why are we called to it? It is interesting that those most critical of faith act in faith all the time. We act in faith when we go to bed at night and set our alarm clock. We act in faith when we buy groceries for the week, and we act in faith when we start a college fund. We don't mock these behaviors as childish or superstitious. On the contrary, we exalt these acts as being good and responsible, preparing for that which is ahead—sacrificing in the now in order to assure at least in part, comfort, and stability in the unknown.

There is a world that may not be linear, but it is real and reveals truth—a world that informs us in ways we know, but perhaps cannot yet dance or articulate. We know this to be true when we have an awkward exchange with someone, when we perceive something "off color". Sometimes we just can't quite put our finger on it, but we know with a fullness of our being that it is real. We may try to recite the account to another, telling what the person said, the words that were used, the intonation, their body language, but even all that information might not hold the ultimate key. "I don't know, I can't explain exactly what, but it was off". It is real, it was perceived, yet unexplainable.

There is also the other kind of perception that can be created, maybe not grounded in truth, and yet is real. For example, the woman who is convicted in her own mind that a certain dress is unflattering to her bloated tummy, she is self-conscious and perhaps overly concerned. Perhaps an observer knowing nothing of her personal issue and dissatisfaction, looks at her dress and finds it very pretty. In noticing a lingering glance, she immediately is reaffirmed in her own convictions that the dress is unflattering and that the person who is in actuality admiring, is looking on critically. This is that strange reality, that is not based in truth but yet very real to the person experiencing it. Even if their own perception of the reality or event is false, there is a reality that exists and is real. It is real to that person experiencing it, and therefore it exists.

Faith is a belief and a commitment to a reality that exists, that is perhaps unseen but grounded in truth. Ultimate Truth. It is the objective reality that whether you believe in it or not, it exists, and stands steady. It is a vibrant living reality unchanging in its nature. Whether you perceive it or not, it is there. It is not subjective perception, but ultimate truth, and remaining faithful and convicted in faith is not Pollyanna, it is no easy task. It is not something to be mocked and scorned but rather it is something to be admired. It demands courage and strength. It would be easy to say nothing means anything, there really is no such thing as right and wrong, good and evil, and live life with no responsibility or commitment to something higher than our own selfish desires. That does not mean it will be a joyous, fulfilled life. Most likely it will not be. When God calls us to observe his commandments. “Come to me, all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest” (Matt 11:28). It is ultimately for our own good, although sometimes in our darkened state we do not see it or feel it that way.

We all have a sense of right and wrong, good and evil. Sure, the perimeters around what that means, and what those lines are differ greatly, but the basic intuitive understanding exists, and it is real. Our whole being shouts out at gross injustice and says it is wrong, our soul cries for the wrong to be made right. It does not matter what social mores or governmental pressure is in place, killing millions of Jews for the mere sake of their Jewishness is wrong. It is not a question of what works best for a flourishing society or getting along. Something in us says, wrong. Not because I think it is wrong or because I just don't like it, but because there is an objective truth that is operating and dictating this wrong. It is larger than me or you, it exists and speaks and we know.

Conversely on a beautiful spring day, a clear blue sky, pink flowers blooming, birds chirping, a child laughing and joyfully drinking up the essence of all this beauty, our souls smile and something says this is good, this is right. We know fully there is something good here, not a thought or an opinion, but pure unadulterated good. “God saw that it was good” (Gen. 1:10). Sometimes the voice of truth is clear as a bell, and other times it is subtle and yearning. It is like a sound in the far-off distance that beckons. You cannot fully make out the story, but it is there waiting to unfold. I choose to believe that that deepest part of our being is being informed by something great, something true and ultimately good.

Faith is not just the belief though, it is ultimately the relationship. It is a long-term commitment, and like most long-term commitments requires a lot of nurturing. Spending time, coming back to, having patience, hope, trust, and ultimately love. A love of that which is good, right and true. A love of that which is love itself: “God is love” (I John 4:8). It is the Agape love relationship, walking together day to day, coming back to, drifting slightly. We are the tide to his ocean. Faith is beautiful but not for the faint of heart. It is not blind, but rather all seeing. When nurtured accordingly the garden of faith will bear the most beautiful fruit, and you will be full.

Sunday, March 18, 2018

Absence and Being


I have missed writing. At first, we returned from summer vacation, hectic with life's many demands. Getting readjusted to life at home, and prepared for another school year to begin. Then when I went to write my keyboard went crazy, it had a mind of its own. Adding spaces, capitals at will, changing letters for other letters randomly. There was the trial period, new chargers, different iPad, which would work for a moment and then back to its own double personality. I gave up. It took a short while to purchase another and then it was holiday season. Christmas shopping, travels, family...the clock kept ticking and the time quickly passed.

I started to do a post in January but got cut off. Then more time passed, I was ready to write—dead battery. Sometimes it is our will that drives our actions, and sometimes we become painfully aware of a greater will that has a direction and a purpose, and nothing in our power or will, will change that. Finally, I am back. I have had thoughts come and go. At times they almost made it to paper, and alas the moment was gone. It seems in life there are these precipices, tight ropes, that we need to seize and take action on just at the right moment, find our balance and act. Too much forcing and the joy and spontaneity is gone, too much resting and the impetus vanishes and is lost, like a cloud that forms and passes and is no more.

I thought last summer about the funny incident in our neighborhood to install a little library. How the neighborhood became an uproarious flurry of emails. Did we need it, or not? Was it worth the money? Where to put it? It was strange how this little glorified birdhouse for books became such a contentious issue. It seemed to tie into people’s deepest selves and attachments. It became about education, home, property and money. One woman even likened it to the recent Trump/Clinton election when some decisions were made without a fair vote, but rather a few emails back and forth. Really? The election? People became exasperated, and one particular email that was accidentally sent ended up being my favorite, it said "I have the $250. I am a hero, stop the F%@#@ing! "

It was quickly met with an offense at the offense, and then a response from the original sender explaining a joke. It was a mishap gone wrong—his wife grabbing the phone to stop him from sending did just that. He in fact, never intended on actually sending it. All of this to say, it revealed for me again the complexity of human beings. How something so trite is connected to such deep areas for so many people and created a whole chain of events.

I have been listening to Dr. Jordan Peterson lately, and I like him a lot. He is a professor in Canada who recently became very controversial. I am enjoying a lecture series on the stories of the Bible and their psychological significance. It is fascinating and inspiring. One girl wrote to him and said she did an ayahuasca ceremony, and he came into her vision. When she asked the plants what his purpose was, the response she received was that he was here to share the Divine Masculine with the world, for which there was a need at this time. Interesting. He speaks a lot about this balance between order and chaos, and this resonates with me a lot.

There seems to be this interwoven theme in existence of creativity and unordered consciousness, calling for order and structure in order to become creatively free, but truly free because now it is being sustained by the ordered structure. Christ says: Truly, I say unto you, unless you turn and become like children, you will never enter the kingdome of heaven” (Matt. 18:3). And yet Christ did not come to abolish the law, but rather to fulfill the law (Matt. 5:17). As he came into the world without sin, he was indeed the fulfillment of the law already and from there he turns the status quo upside down and goes beyond the law. However never does he just abolish the law or disregard its necessity. There are times when he shows clear authority of the law. He goes among the sinners and calls them to repentance. He does not just say, “keep doing what you are doing, none of it matters”.

In his call for us to become like children, I think about what this means. There is a difference between childlike—which is rather endearing—and childish which is mostly annoying. But why? Why is a child's innocence and charm grating and frustrating when a certain age is passed and perhaps expectation is not met? Why is an older person who can look at life with a child's joy and curiosity endearing and infectious? It seems there is a subtle and not so subtle distinction at play. It seems to be something like the difference between joy and happiness. A child who gets candy becomes very happy, or a puppy who greets you demonstrates bouncing-off-the-wall happiness. Yet that same child shortly will throw a tantrum at the crash, and the puppy will destroy your newest leather shoes. Joy is different. Joy is more profound. It entails more within it and perhaps more importantly has an enduring quality, not a mercurial spontaneity. Mercurial spontaneity may not lack in charm, but the rollercoaster ride is unlivable, untenable. There seems to be an inevitable price to pay. When I think of an analogy for joy, I think of Bach. Somehow he seems to capture all of life in his pieces. Even the most joyful piece has an element of melancholy, there is a sense of the mundane turning of the day-to-day, and a penetrating unexplainable simultaneous complexity and simplicity. It is essence captured in sound. It is full, and it is Joy.

What is this process that calls us to dive into chaos, pure creativity, the dream, the vision. Then to come out and carefully and meticulously order it, only to set it free, like a kite tethered to our hand yet freely flying in the wind. These small deaths and rebirths creating something new, something of depth, and something enduring. Christ dies the ultimate death on the cross and calls for us to do the same time and time again, the sacrifice, the death, the rebirth to something more—the giving up and away of our lives in order to actually have a life worth living—“Whoever loses his life for my sake will find it” (Matt. 10:39).

I think about beautiful glass work, how even a child could form a melted shape with color that would have allure, but the expert will come, take that charming trinket, rekindle the fire, melt a bit here, reshape a bit there, and out will come the masterpiece. The changes are subtle and yet not so subtle, something of charm becomes something of glory. The light reflects now in just the right places, its brilliance penetrates something unexplainable in words and logic, yet perhaps more real than that which can be explained. It is felt in our being and no explanations are needed.

There seems to be these two planes in life at times, one where nothing matters because it is all futile in a sense. What the material world offers will fade and perish. Our own physical bodies will become dust. The flip side, or other plane is this idea that it all matters and not just a little bit, but greatly. Our actions, our words and down to our very thoughts matters (Matt. 5: 21 ff.). He knows the number of hairs on our heads (Matt. 10:30) and we are here for a purpose.

I am back to the tightrope walking that line between order and chaos. It matters greatly, and not at all. It is out of our hands, yet we are partners with that which is greater, the cosmic dance. I am on a precipice on pointe, yet my toe through the rocks is tethered to the mountain. My hair flies in the wind reaching to the sky. My being is rocked by the breeze and cradled in his wisdom. There is a moment of freedom and bliss, until the chaos and order call, for the next death and rebirth.