The Mortal Sin of Belief

In the last couple of posts, I have perhaps opened a small can of worms by suggesting God, as supreme author of life, is responsible for the bad things that befall us. The thought is reasonable, and  — the more we contemplate God’s omnipotent and omniscient nature — inescapable.

But what is it about the idea that God has some part in the difficulties that befall us, that causes us pause? I believe the answer is: We fear this must mean that He is bad, no better than the devil. It would seem to suggest, at least on the surface, that He endorses the bad. That He intends for us to suffer.

But our misgivings go deeper than this. To allow the possibility that God is involved in the bad is, for many of us, to commit the mortal sin of questioning God’s goodness. Because faith is foundational to Christian doctrine, attributing God to the bad is seen as a failure of faith. We refuse to set foot in that direction.

But what many of us do not realize is, acknowledging God’s sovereign control over our lives is just as much an expression of faith as is acknowledging His goodness. We are charged to believe in God as He is, not as we wish Him to be. God desires a faith that is mature that affirms all of His attributes and character, not one that reduces Him to a comfortable size to keep us from wrestling with deeper questions.

One of those questions, of course, is: “How can God be both good and yet allow, or even (gasp) orchestrate, bad things to happen? The simplest answer to this is: Goodness is not established by whether God is responsible for an action, but by His intention in bringing it about.

Take for example the following illustration.

There is a man who does not know God and does not care to know God. He is content living life on his terms, in full control of his own destiny and his own search for happiness. But his own indulgence leads him to become addicted to drugs, and that addiction causes him to descend to the most desperate circumstances. He reaches rock bottom, and it is at that point that he realizes how wretched he truly is. He cries out to God for mercy. Through a series of events, his prayer is answered. He comes to know God as His Lord and Savior. He has a new life, overflowing with God’s abundant peace and joy.

Looking back, He now sees how God was working in his life all along, leading him to the moment of his conversion. He sees how God was using even his addiction to lead him to understand his need for God. In fact, knowing his own heart, he wonders how this understanding could have come about any other way. And in acknowledging this, he is overcome with thankfulness.

Now let us ask ourselves: Did the realization that God was responsible for the man’s desperate circumstances cause him to worship God more, or less? The answer is clear.

But how can this possibly be? The man has just come to realize that God was behind the darkest period of his life. In a sense it would be accurate to say: God allowed him to suffer. In fact, since God is author of all of life, it would be more accurate to say: God caused the man to suffer. How can this knowledge lead this man to think even more highly of God?

The answer is found not in God’s responsibility, but in His intention. Yes, God brought about the events that represented this man’s darkest hour. But his purpose in doing so was not to allow the man to suffer senselessly. He had a goal in mind, and it was this man’s salvation. This was His intention.

Such a testimony, common among evangelical circles, is an example of what Jesus meant when He said, “I have come that you might have life, and have it abundantly.” He was speaking of His purpose and intention — in short, His heart — for every soul on the planet. A firefighter who risks his own life to save a victim in a burning building, though both may pass through flames to safety, is not considered evil, but a hero. How much more the God who, having given His own life, now strives to save every victim on this world which is destined to perish by fire.

What is on trial here is not God’s goodness then but rather how we choose to interpret the circumstances of our lives. We modern churchgoers are a sensitive bunch. The least hardship besets us, and we are apt to accuse God of wrongdoing. But like this man, it is often in the circumstances that we personally find most challenging that God is about His greatest work.

I welcome your thoughts.

The Good, the Bad, and the Almighty

In our past post, we asked the probing question: Is God responsible for all circumstances in our lives, including the bad things? Many would say no, mainly because it seems to suggest God Himself is not that good of a guy. We wish to protect Him from such a charge, if not in the public arena, then at least in our own minds. We wish to keep Him limited to the good things.

Some may even quote scripture to back this claim. For example, it is Jesus that said, “The thief (devil) has come to steal and kill and destroy, but I have come that you might have life and have it abundantly.” This certainly speaks to God’s intention for humanity, and also the devil’s. But many take it to mean it speaks to His sovereignty, also. That is, when bad things happen, God is not responsible at all. That is, He had no say or part in it coming to pass. Such a view of God, though it may seem good, is very small. It makes Him out to be not so much supreme over all of creation, but instead powerless over a great part of creation.

To illustrate this, consider the following. Imagine a fatal car accident in which a drunk driver kills a small child. Who is responsible? Clearly, the drunk driver is. But now imagine you later discover that at the scene of the accident just before it happened, a bystander saw the drunk driver approaching and knew the child was in danger, but chose to do nothing. Who now is responsible? Only the drunk driver? No. Both the drunk driver and the bystander. Of course the bystander is not responsible in the same way that the drunk driver is responsible. The bystander did not commit the act of violence. Nonetheless, most would agree the bystander shares in some responsibility. In fact anyone at the scene of the accident would be regarded as responsible to the extent he or she was aware of the approaching danger and had the ability to do something about it.

The same principle holds true in our own lives. When bad things happen, we can always know God’s intention toward us — that we might have life, and have it abundantly. But to say God is only responsible for the good in life is to suggest He is either unaware of a great part of creation or powerless to do anything about it. In our attempt to make God only good, we end up only making Him small.

Of course: God is already good. According to Scripture, He is perfectly good and just. And we do not have to fear He is otherwise.

In this brief discussion, we have used the term “responsible” to describe God’s role in and connection with the difficulties that befall us, which is accurate but at the same time misleading. When we hear the word responsible, we can think blame.

But we are not looking to blame God. What we are emphasizing here is that the God before whom not a single sparrow falls to the ground without His knowledge is intimately involved in the minutest details of our lives, even those that are difficult. He is not only in them but before them and also beyond them, allowing, even orchestrating, circumstances for our good, who love God and are called according to His purpose. Therefore, in whatever situation we find ourselves, it is not the mercy of any other, but Himself, upon which we can rest.

In the next few posts, we shall explore God’s role in difficult circumstances and what it says about His character.

But what do you think? Is God responsible for all of life, or only a part? If all of life, does this mean necessarily He is not good? What then can it mean? I welcome your thoughts.

Thanking God for the Bad

right-way-wrong-way1Author and Speaker Merlin Carothers tells of a woman who asked for prayer concerning her daughter. Her daughter was not “following the Lord,” as church people say; in fact she was an exotic dancer at a strip club.  Before joining the mother in prayer, Carothers encouraged the her to thank God for her daughter’s current lifestyle. But the woman immediately recoiled at the thought. She insisted that it was not proper to thank God for the devil’s work.

Carothers has devoted his life to one central message: Praise God for all things. But like the woman in this story, many of us may find it difficult obeying such a message. Of course the act itself is not difficult, but as Carothers notes, doing so sincerely will be difficult if we are not convinced of a deeper truth; namely: That God is responsible for all circumstances in our lives, not just the good stuff, but also the bad stuff, also, and that He is using all of it for our good.

The difficulty for many will be that one phrase, “but also the bad stuff.” But if it is true that God is using even the bad things in our lives for our good, and He is in some way responsible for it, this has profound theological implications.

And if Carothers is correct, it also means the difference between seeing personal breakthrough and missing out, on being in full cooperation with God’s plans, and falling short in lack of faith.

So this is the question I wish to explore over the next few posts: Is God, or is He not, responsible for all circumstances in our lives, including the bad things? I look forward to your responses.

God is not in It

The Christian life — and by this I mean the true one, not the outward one where time is spent engaged in church activity — consists of a connection with the Spirit. This connection can ebb and flow, and when it ebbs, the goal is to draw close again. My goal is to be in constant contact with Jesus. That is the whole point of the Christian life.

I pause here because it is easy to nod and say “Yes” to such a statement but walk away with an entirely different understanding of what it means to be in contact with Jesus. It is easy to think of following Jesus in a metaphorical sense alone. As if to follow Him means to do what we think He would want us to do, or what we think He would do Himself, or even do what others who speak for God say we should do. And we call that “following Jesus.”

But such efforts will only drive us to utter boredom, emptiness, and most likely, a good deal of anxiety. This is because we weren’t designed to have a metaphorical relationship with Jesus; we were designed to have an actual relationship with Jesus, through the presence and Person of the Holy Spirit.

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To Know All Things are Possible

With God, all things are possible. What profoundly great news.

It may seem to be so, but I suspect for many believers it is secretly not such good news. On the contrary, it is a source of anxiety. The truth is so exceedingly great that they miss out on its possibility, profundity and majesty; they hear instead only one more thing that they are responsible for, and they secretly wish they were not. They almost wish, in fact, though it sounds bad to say, the truth weren’t so great. They secretly wish that with God, only some things were possible. That way, there would be less to think about.

But imagine such a world. Imagine that with God, all things were not possible. God was not capable, or perhaps He simply had decreed that we were beyond His assistance, imprisoned within our lives, victims destined to take whatever came our way, no exceptions.

Regrettably, such a world is what some not only secretly wish for but believe in. They believe all miracles ceased with the early church, but believe Jesus will come again one day with power and glory. They have made God powerful in the past and in the future, but not in the present.  In the meantime, God is only capable of some things. He can comfort us in our physical suffering, but He cannot relieve it. He can provide us the means to provide food on the table that we thank Him for, but He cannot miraculously multiply fish and loaves. He is, apparently, no longer in the miracle business. He is on break.

It is an odd thing, really: To believe in a God who is all-powerful but not capable to do much of anything in the present, where we exist. He is powerful everywhere except for right in the middle of our lives. I would like to suggest the God we serve is not this god. He is much closer.

It is in fact a miracle that has brought us to faith in Jesus Christ in the first place. Just think how improbable it is to believe that a man who lived two thousand years ago is God. What could possibly persuade us? Would the credibility of those we know who claimed it is true? Would the compelling historical evidence? Would intellectual arguments? Or merely our upbringing?

All of these things may contribute to our spiritual journey, but coming to genuine faith in Jesus Christ — not just being persuaded intellectually or finding it convenient socially, but coming to experience One we have come to love, to Whom, according to Scripture, our spirits cry out “Abba, Father” —is nothing short of a supernatural event. If we have come to believe in God through a miracle, why would we deny any others? To believe in the miraculous is simply to continue in what we have come to already believe.

It is of course conceivable that our belief in God involves no supernatural element whatsoever. Though this is possible, it certainly does not reflect core Christian belief. “You, however, are controlled not by the sinful nature but by the Spirit, if the Spirit of God lives in you. And if anyone does not have the Spirit of Christ, he does not belong to Christ.” For these words to be intelligible at all requires a supernatural element. It is possible therefore that churches who call themselves Christian deny any supernatural component, but this would not be true Christianity. True Christianity is supernatural. It claims we have met Someone. Whether that Someone is capable of all things or not much of anything is the only question that remains.

It is the up close and personal nature of Jesus Christ that is difficult for us to come to terms with. He demands change, and we fear the change required is equal to His ability to do so, and it is this fear that wishes to make Him smaller. For the skeptic, we do so by making him a mere man, or a myth. For the believer, we can do so by making him less powerful, or more distant. The goal is the same: To unconsciously preserve our way of life.

But his infinite power is the very thing we need. It may bring about great change, but take heart: He has overcome the world.

Seasonal Change

My wife and I are in the process of moving the entire family 600 miles, from the northern region of California to its southern basin, in the heart of Orange County. It is a big move, and having been born and raised in Orange County, it has been eighteen years since we left.

It is fitting that change come here as well. I have spent several posts exploring scientific thought and the impact and role it has on the modern mind (that would be our minds), but I shall be changing things up a bit and discussing other aspects of the Christian experience, beginning with the role faith plays within the life of the believer.

In the past weeks, I have been pleasantly surprised to attract not only Christians but skeptics to my blog. If you are of the latter group, I encourage you to continue on even if you find some of the posts a little more Bible-centric, for two reasons: The first is that it won’t be long before I change things up again, and the second it that I believe it will provide good insight into modern Christian belief and practice.

Besides, it is not that much of a shift. I believe the Christian experience to be profoundly philosophical, and if this blog is devoted to anything, it is reflecting upon its present place in the modern world, specifically in the modern mind. Even with some Bible verses, therefore, we will not be far from philosophical reflection.

There. I have now spent four paragraphs of your time to prepare you for the thematic shift. Thank you for following, and I hope you enjoy the reading as much as I do the writing. Now to unpack those boxes . . .

Finely-Tuned Arguments

Finely TunedIn my first year of college, where students join the real world of ideas, I was greeted with what seemed to be a unanimous consensus that God was dead, a mere human invention, and that faith was irrational. It appeared to be more than a just strong case; on the contrary, I got the impression from its proponents that God had been so undeniably proven to be false that it was beyond dispute, and I was very late to the party. I wondered whether my faith was in fact a lie.

But as I examined the arguments against God, I did not find what I expected. Instead of undeniable facts, I found arguments whose main force was found in their underlying assumptions: Assumptions which largely determined the conclusion. What’s more, it seemed for most people who held them, those assumptions went unchallenged.

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Memories, Life and Graduation

My daughter graduates from high school this week (yes: I am that old). Over the past two years, she has had the privilege of having one of those English teachers who was top-notch and memorable, encouraging his students to think critically, independently, and pursue excellence.

Anyway, he handed his students a transcript of a graduation speech to Kenyon college provided by noted novelist David Foster Wallace. I had not heard of David Foster before but read through the transcript at my daughter’s request, and in doing so, found myself in one of those moments of reflecting on the past, looking toward the future, and contemplating, not so much the purpose of life in the grand scale, but our purpose in it on a personal scale.

Which seems fitting on this Memorial Day, and also days before many across this nation and the globe declare, by way of ceremony, their preparation is over, and take the first step into life as world influencers.

Or, perhaps, just find a way to make a living. Or, just survive another day.

That is the rub in life, isn’t it — a point that Wallace takes time to mention. Namely: We feel in ourselves — at least from the vantage point of a graduation ceremony — that life is to be lived purposely. That it should not be wasted chasing after things that matter little. But the majority of life, for most of us, takes place somewhere between the workplace, grocery store and the television. Life may be weighed down with purpose, but it is enough for many of us this week if we manage to squeeze in our favorite TV show — and not lose our jobs.

I could say much more on this topic — of a life with meaning, of how our view and beliefs about the world invariably trickle down to how we awake each day and live out our lives. And how the modern mind finds itself a bit at odds with itself, between purpose and purposelessness, of meaning and meaninglessness. But I will keep it short this week. After all, it is Memorial Day weekend. What is left of it, anyway. And there is that TV show I wish to squeeze in. :)

So let me end by asking you this question: Does life have meaning? Rather, what meaning does life have for you, and how does your view of the world and our existence translate to what you see as your purpose, if any, each day you awake? I look forward hearing from you.

Atheists Cannot Possibly Be Any Good

If you are an atheist — or at least find yourself sympathetic to those that claim to be — then you are most likely familiar with the term New Atheist. If you are not, it refers to a new type of skeptic who has emerged in the past several years, who not only believes there is no God but who is also particularly hostile to those who do.

Renowned biologist Richard Dawkins is quoted as saying, ““I think a case can be made that faith is one of the world’s great evils.” Likewise, neuroscientist and author Sam Harris describes religious faith as an “uncompromising misuse of the power of our minds” which “forms a kind of perverse, cultural singularity,” and that being a man of perfect faith is “a terrible thing to be.”

What is particularly interesting about the new atheist is his unmistakable sense of moral outrage over faith. Faith is not something that is simply not preferable; no, it is wrong, even evil. But wrong based on what? In a world where there is no more than the observable universe, what meaning does right and wrong possibly have? To be sure, an atheist, if he is consistent, cannot possibly be any good, not because he is not able, but because good does not exist.

Think of it: If the atheism that Harris and Dawkins hold to is true, absolutely true, then it matters little how your neighbor chooses to live, or what they choose to believe.

But are we saying that atheists are not capable of being moral? Of course not.  To be clear (and somewhat repetitive), the atheist is just as capable of being kind and generous and courageous (and whatever virtue you wish to add) as the person who believes in God. What we are saying rather is that in a world where God does not exist, there is no good. In such a world, we can conform to any code of behavior we wish to define, whether it be based on our upbringing or evolutionary past. But ultimately, it is meaningless.

As an illustration, imagine a different world, where evolution on its unguided and indifferent evolutionary course bestowed us with very long necks, and also deposited within us the odd belief that holding our heads as high as possible was the right thing to do. And imagine that that was the extent of our understanding of what is “right.”

And just as in our world, there were many of us who believed holding one’s head high was right because there was an invisible entity who held his head higher than all of us, and it is what He wanted.

But others, more educated and enlightened, came to realize that there was no such entity. But when challenged, they insisted they were just as capable of holding their heads high as the rest of us, even better at it than some of their Entity-believing peers. Or, that holding one’s head to the side was actually the right thing to do — and they condemned those who did not.

Now I ask you: Would such claims of the long-necked enlightened have any meaning?

And yet, in our world, this is exactly what we see. The new atheist protests he does not need to believe in God to be good (hold his neck high). He also condemns faith as wrong and evil because it is the opposite of scientific rationalism (“holding one’s head to the side”). The one thing we do not observe the new atheist doing is the very thing that seems most logically consistent: Responding that whether he is capable of being good or not is irrelevant, since ultimately the moral pose we choose to assume is pointless.

Think of it: If the atheism that Harris and Dawkins hold to is true, absolutely true, then it matters little how your neighbor chooses to live, or what they choose to believe. Even the worst atrocity — induced by religious extremists or an atheistic regime — is merely an unwanted  exchange of matter and energy.

So what do you think? If there is no God, is there such a thing as moral standards? If so, how did they come about, and by want scientific means do we know they exist? If not, why should we choose to live in any manner that is virtuous or what one might call moral? Lastly, what is your moral code for living, and why? I welcome your comments.

Imagining Science

As I mentioned previously, the fact that the world around us is comprehensible, both rationally and mathematically, is astounding. But it is even more astounding that we are capable of comprehending it, if the widely-held belief of our modern age is true.

The belief I am referring to is best summed up by the words of renowned scientist and best-selling author Richard Dawkins: “There is nothing beyond the natural, physical world, no supernatural, creative intelligence lurking behind the observable universe.” In fact, any belief in a supernatural (literally: “beyond the natural”) dimension to our existence is regarded by many in higher education as backward, superstitious, quaint, and — above all else — irrational.

The fact that the world around us is comprehensible, both rationally and mathematically, is astounding. But it is even more astounding that we are capable of comprehending it, if the widely-held belief of our modern age is true.

The reasoning behind such anti-supernatural sentiment seems to find its roots in the prevalence of scientific thought in our culture. The idea is that, since we have been doing this science thing for so long and have yet to find any evidence for the supernatural, belief in the supernatural is at best grossly unjustified. I have spoken elsewhere how science would come to no other conclusion, but let’s allow for the possibility of such a world that science (actually, scientific naturalism) envisions.

Imagine a world, as Dawkins describes, where there is nothing behind the material Universe. All that exists is matter and energy, operating according to the observable laws of nature, and nothing more.

Now imagine you are observing the Universe, particularly Earth, just before life began. You see a lifeless, turbulent planet where, at the microscopic level, molecules are interacting constantly. Suddenly,  by pure chance, a group of molecules find themselves arranged in such a manner that we would recognize as a building block of life. And, by further chance, that building block finds itself arranged with other by-chance building blocks in a way that we would recognize as the first primitive form of life. Now to be clear: It isn’t really life: It is simply a complex arrangement of molecules. For that is all there is. Life, after all, is a concept, merely a manner we use to describe lifeless matter arranged in a certain way and acted upon by unguided natural laws in a certain manner. That is, there is nothing beyond, or “out there,” making life what it is. Life is not real; matter is. Life is the term we simply use to describe some observable arrangements of matter. And so you recognize this by-chance arrangement of matter as fitting the description of what we call life.

So you  decide to keep your eye on this particular arrangement of matter. Over eons, you observe that, through a strange combination of ongoing chance and unguided processed, more arrangements appear like the first one, a phenomenon we have called “reproduction.” And further, with the same strange combination of chance and unguided processes, the exact configuration of the molecular arrangements begins to change, becoming more diverse, eventually finding itself in a state you recognize to be what we call complex life.

You marvel; you are elated! You are witnessing before your very eyes life evolve! But to be clear, you are not in actuality witnessing life evolve. You are not, because life does not exist, let alone evolve. All that exists is matter and energy acting according to observable scientific laws.

But you cannot help but watch, and as more eons pass, the arrangements change further, finding themselves by chance in ever-peculiar and diverse configurations, till eventually, as a whole, they take on a form that you, with shock, personally recognize: Human life. Thinking, Feeling, Rational Human Life.

But of course, it isn’t really  human life you are observing — nor, for that matter, is it thinking, or feeling or rational. For not only does life not really exist, neither does Thought or Emotion. Nor even, Rationality. These things do not exist because all that exists is matter and energy. Just as life is an illusion, the things we call thought, feelings, and rationality are as well. At best, they are mere descriptors for how molecules arrange themselves, or how they interact in a physical, natural world. And this must be so, for there is nothing beyond the physical, natural world, just as scientific naturalism claims.

And suddenly you realize with horror: You do not exist. Granted you, as simply a by-chance arrangement of molecules, do. But you — as a thinking, feeling, rational entity, who can achieve what we call understanding — do not. That does not mean of course you do not experience what we describe as thought, or feelings, or that you do not experience the belief in what you understand to be rationality. But that is the problem. If all that exists is the material universe, as scientific naturalism claims, that includes you. You therefore, on your very best day, are no more than a highly complex arrangement of molecules in constant interaction. Nor can you be otherwise. The part of you that thinks, feels, reasons, and has the capacity to understand — is an illusion.

No doubt, you struggle against such a realization (even if Dawkins does not). Not because you do not want it to be so, but because everything in you says it cannot be so — including the the you who affirms the claim of scientific naturalism. But the stark reality is that in order to possess understanding, you — at least the understanding part of you — must exist in a dimension beyond the material world, something which scientific naturalism denies.

Troubled by this dilemma, you decide to accept by faith that, although all that exists is confined to the natural, physical universe, your understanding does not. That it exists beyond the natural, and by definition, is super-natural. A supernatural reality you simultaneously deny.

And that, I argue, is faith in a miracle greater than Jesus rising from the dead.

So what do you think? Do you agree with Dawkins that “there is nothing beyond the natural, physical world”? If so, what is the phenomenon we call understanding and rationality? And if you believe there is a supernatural dimension to our understanding, how far does it extend? I welcome your comments.

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