As I was doing research for my novel, the term Magical Realism popped into my head. I knew I had heard the term somewhere, so I looked it up and discovered it was the perfect antidote to a problem I was working through related to the story’s plot. For those as ill-informed as I was on the topic
Magical Realism is the literary style in which fantastic or supernatural elements appear within an otherwise realistic world –– and are treated as ordinary, matter-of-fact parts of daily life
Which got me thinking: How supernatural the world actually is.
I know: we modern people know better. What we do not realize however is that our perception of a purely natural world consisting of nothing more than matter an energy is a product of Western Civilization, not an accurate depiction of the world as it actually is. In other words, we who live in America and Europe (and countries affected by the culture they have produced) think the world is devoid of a supernatural or metaphysical dimension not because it is necessarily so, but because we have been trained to think this way. We gave scientific rationalism preeminence as the means by which we understand everything, a way of seeing the world that excludes the possibility of anything beyond the natural before it even gets off the ground. And we are reaping the effects of this, both good and bad, in our modern time. But the rest of the world does not think this way.
And I suspect we all know better. Magical Realism is more than just a literary style: it is the world we occupy.
Do you think anything lies beyond the world of matter and energy? Feel free to leave a comment below.
I am writing a novel. Speaking of which: It has taken me about four decades to give myself permission to be a novelist.
The problem was me. No one forbade me to be a novelist. I did not grow up in a home where being a novelist (or any form of art) was frowned upon. On the contrary, my parents were of the disposition they just wanted us to pursue a life that made us happy (okay, after getting a college degree). But somewhere along the line, I became convinced the life of a novelist is a life I could not take too seriously because it was too enjoyable.
In her iconic work The Artist’s Way, author Julia Cameron remarks, “In order to move from the realm of shadows to the light of creativity, [artists] must learn to take themselves seriously. With gentle, deliberate effort, they must nurture their artist child. Creativity is play, but for the [artist], learning to allow themselves to play is hard work” (emphasis added).
Being an artist is hard work. But the hardest part of the job can be giving yourself permission to be one, and that means ––by any definition I have ever read in a book or article on creativity –– allowing yourself to play.
The difficulty for many of us is that we do not believe we deserve to play. I am not talking about goofing off and abandoning all responsibilities. I am talking about the play that lies at the heart of any artistic endeavor. And also every great work. Michelangelo was about serious work in the Sistine Chapel. But Michelangelo was also playing. While others were about serious business at the time of the Renaissance, Michelangelo was messing around bringing forth King David from a block of marble. You get the idea.
We are all artists. Each of us is uniquely created by God and called to leave our unique imprint upon the world. Each of us possess that one thing that God in his wisdom and foresight has imparted to us the wisdom, power, and grace for us to do, so much so –– dare I say –– that it feels like play. Yes, life is serious business. And we all have important things to do. But do not be surprised to find, as life finally draws to a close and we take that glorious step into eternity, that play was the most important thing we could have done this side of heaven. After all, we are commanded to become like children.
Feel free to share your thoughts in the comments section below!
In all this you greatly rejoice, though now for a little while you may have had to suffer grief in all kinds of trials. These have come so that the proven genuineness of your faith—of greater worth than gold, which perishes even though refined by fire —may result in praise, glory and honor when Jesus Christ is revealed.
1 Peter 1:6-7 (NIV)
Our church has begun a series on suffering and it has gotten me thinking about the tension that lies at the heart of the Christian faith. On one hand, God is profoundly good, a goodness we see in Scripture and experience every day. On the other, we are called to suffer. By “called” I mean that suffering, for a variety of reasons, is expected. But how exactly does God’s profound goodness factor into suffering?
The difficulty many have with God is the presence of suffering in the world. That if there were a God, he certainly would not allow this to happen. But this assumes God is the way we think he should be. It also assumes his goodness is the way we think it is. Sure, if God is all-powerful, then he must be the type of God who allows us to suffer. But whether we conclude he is good or not because of this depends on whether we define his goodness based on his willingness or unwillingness to allow us to suffer. Scripture makes clear God’s goodness is not defined in this way.
Our difficulty with God when it comes to suffering, rather, is our own conception of him. If we have been raised on a strict diet of being told God is good and he does not want us to suffer, we are understandably going to have difficulty when we do. We are going to think something strange is happening to us. We are going to think it should not be happening, and that God is not who he says he is. We are going to be inclined to a crisis of faith.
But there is really no cause for a crisis of faith if we turn to scripture, because in scripture we see from cover to cover a God, though profoundly good, willing to allow suffering. It isn’t as if the Word of God portrays God as a God unwilling to allow any form of suffering, and we now find ourselves coming to terms with a world full of it. The opposite is actually true: the Word of God shows God to be very willing to allow suffering, something that reflects the world we find ourselves in. Our difficulty with suffering then is our own ideas about God that neither agree with scripture or the world around us.
But how can God be both good and allow suffering? Again, the answer is that God’s goodness is not defined by his willingness or unwillingness to allow us to suffer. It is defined by something far more profound. To put it simply, God’s goodness is defined equally by his holiness. And it is God’s holiness that makes God willing to allow suffering. God did not create the world and then, looking down one day, say, “Something is missing. I know: suffering!” No, the Word of God is clear that all the suffering we see today came through sin. So suffering is clearly not something God desires, but it is something he allows on the basis of his holiness.
It is really important we understand this. When we object to God’s goodness on the basis of suffering, we are imagining a God willing to go to any length to prevent it. We are imagining a God willing to restrict our free will in order to prevent the consequence of sin, which is suffering, or a God willing to allow us to exercise our free will without consequence. In short, we are imagining a God who is either controlling or not holy. But God’s way of dealing with sin was to allow humanity to exercise the full range of free will and also experience the full consequence of sin. God was willing to allow sin to come through Adam and death through sin, resulting in the world we now see today.
And God is now in the process of delivering us not only from suffering but its root cause, which is sin, through Jesus Christ and his work on the Cross. Yes, even now, God could snap his finger and deliver us all from it instantly. But for a variety of reasons, he has chosen to deliver us progressively. He has chosen to keep us in the world, though we are no longer of it, experiencing his goodness in a variety of ways as we are transformed by him, being conformed to the image of His Son. And his reasons for doing so – though I have no space to go into it now – are all good.
I have come that they may have life, and have it to the full.
John 10:10 (NIV)
About five years ago, I was on lunch break about to cross the street to pick up some food when I had a life-changing moment with the Holy Spirit. He said to me, “You have spent your whole life trying to show me how much you love me. But what if I spend the rest of your life showing you how much I love you?” Given my unsuccessful efforts to demonstrate to God how much I loved him for most of my life, I said yes. And in that moment, a selfish revivalist was born.
I say “selfish revivalist” because my goal from that moment onward was, well, giving Jesus every opportunity to make good on his offer. I abandoned my efforts to be a good Christian and please him. Instead, my object in life became giving him every opportunity to please me. Or, I should say, bless me. My goal was to pursue a life of abundant blessing. I reoriented my life around one objective: the blessed life.
All of this sounds so selfish, especially coming from my traditionally religious background. I had been taught the purpose of the religious life was to serve God, to live a life of such great sacrifice that he takes notice of us and rewards us, either now or in the life to come. But the well-kept secret of the Christian life is that, first of all, we really cannot please God in this way, at least not by our service. If we set out with the objective to please God by our service, we will fail.1 This is what the apostle Paul is telling us more than anything in the seventh chapter of Romans. Sowing to the flesh is not merely sinning; it is also striving to please God by our actions. Such efforts will end in a life where we are constantly striving and never managing to measure up to an impossible standard.
Secondly, God has chosen to please us.2 It took me a long time to realize the Cross was not an IOU placed upon my life but rather the most extravagant expression of God’s willingness to bless me freely. We can know this for sure because we did not deserve any of it. If God wanted us to demonstrate how much we love him, he could have done nothing and given us the chance to do so. Instead, he chose to go to the Cross and die for us while we were yet sinners.
And having died for us, God has chosen to shower us with blessings.3 It is his way of demonstrating love, and also his way of empowering us to do the very things that please him. Because we cannot do what God requires on our own. It is not a matter of trying harder. It is a matter of being dead in our old nature, and needing to be raised to life with him. It is a matter of God’s Spirit doing in us what the flesh could never do. In other words, for us to live as God has created us and called us to live, he must bless us.
Besides, it is impossible to pursue a life of being blessed by God and remaining selfish for long. Granted, if I think being blessed is asking for things that I might spend them on my sinful desires,4 then that would be selfish. But God does not answer such prayers. Instead, he brings us into a life of true blessing, one where our sinful desires are purified and true life is made manifest. He heals us, restores us, and empowers us. We have peace to overcome every storm. We experience his unfathomable love and encounter his beauty. He satisfies our every desire not with sinful things, but with good things, that our youth may be renewed.5 As he does, all we do for him flows not from a place of religious compulsion and fear of never doing enough, but from a place of genuine gratitude and passion, overflowing with the love and power God gives.
This day, do not shrink back from his willingness to bless you because you think you are being selfish. Such selfishness is likely the very way God has ordained that you step into all he has for you, for your sake and for the sake of the world around you.
News about him spread all over Syria, and people brought to him all who were ill with various diseases, those suffering severe pain, the demon-possessed, those having seizures, and the paralyzed; and he healed them.
Matthew 4:24 (NIV)
Is God’s decision to heal based entirely on his sovereignty? And what do we mean when we say this, as some people do?
I believe what we mean is that there is no rhyme or reason to whom God chooses to heal. That God is up in heaven arbitrarily deciding to miraculously intervene in some people’s lives and not others. The reason we feel this way is because it confirms our experience. When we see or hear about someone miraculously healed and know of another not healed, it can appear to us this is exactly what God is doing: just being arbitrary.
And such an idea is comforting. A God who confirms our experience, as opposed to one who challenges our experience, means there is nothing we need to change. But if God is different from our experience – say for example, if God’s desire is always to heal all who are “suffering severe pain, the demon-possessed, those having seizures, and the paralyzed” – then we must ask the hard questions.
But aren’t we here to ask the hard questions? Do we really think life is about asking easy questions, or that God is so like us that hard questions are not necessary? In my opinion, it is better for us to accept and embrace a God whose will is always to heal us and wrestle with that disparity than to embrace a God before whom our suffering is nothing more than a lottery ticket. Especially if this means building for ourselves an image of God who literally wants us to remain not healed – whose highest virtue and calling for us is to suffer. As if God is glorified when we are miserable.
The theological problem I have with the idea God sovereignly heals is that when we say God sovereignly chooses not to heal a person, we are saying nothing at all. The reason is that God’s sovereign will, as opposed to his perfect or desired will, is what ultimately happens in any given situation, whether it is what God wanted to have happen or not. God’s perfect will was for Adam and Eve not to eat of the fruit of the tree of the knowledge of good and evil; God’s sovereign will is what happened when they did. God’s perfect will is that none should perish; God sovereign will is what happens when some do. God’s perfect will is that all would be healed; God’s sovereign will is what happens when some are not. God’s sovereign will is what God as the novelist of all human history allows to take place, whether it is what he wants to take place or not.
So when we say God sovereignly chose this or that to happen, we are saying nothing more than it happened and acknowledging this means God allowed it. We are saying nothing about whether it is really what God wanted to have happen. It would be simpler for us to say “I do not know why it happened,” or say nothing at all.
I am trying to save us from a world in which some things are not possible for the sake of our personal comfort. Trust me: you are going to be uncomfortable no matter what. It is much better for us to be uncomfortable for the right reasons, namely, by realizing we live in a world in which all things are possible, and we cannot rest till we align ourselves with that reality. It may cost us our personal comfort, but a world in which all things are possible means a world in which the most beautiful things are possible. And is that not worth asking the hard questions?
D. Patrick Collins 