Swimming against the Flow

 
I wrote this for myself. It may not speak to you because it may not be where you are. We're all on our own journeys after all. It is, however, where I am: sometimes struggling to know how to be authentic in my faith in the midst of a culture that is mostly ambivalent to Christian traditions and values, and also often hostile to them. I wondered whether to even post it at all, as its audience will not be large. But on the off chance that one or two of you will find what follows useful, here it is:
 
I've just finished a very interesting book:
“Strangers and Pilgrims Once More”
Being Disciples of Jesus in a Post-Christendom World
Addison Hodges Hart
William B. Eerdmans Publishing Company
The ideas presented in the book have been churning around in my head ever since, and I'm a bit excited by some of them.
I've written a response below. It's part paraphrase of the author's words, and part rewriting in my own words, but it is not in any way my aim to misrepresent his ideas as my own original thinking. My rewording and paraphrasing has been done to help me process what he is saying. Maybe it will help you too.
To cut to the chase, the author (Hart) recognises that the influence of Christian churches has nearly vanished from western culture and is now only marginal. The long period of 'Christendom' is over. But, he says, rather than whine and feel sorry for ourselves, Christians need to realise this might not be such a bad thing.
The challenge for contemporary Christians is to be true to their faith in the midst of an agressively secular culture. The upside is that Christians no longer need to feel compromised by their church's being bound to institutions of the state.
For almost two thousand years the church has enjoyed the priviledges of power and influence provided by its close association with governments, royalty, and the courts etc. This connection has now mostly disappeared, with only vestiges remaining. The current manouvering around the 'Same Sex' marriage issue is a case in point. Any influence the church might once have had on political decision making is now very much reduced, and quite often receives openly hostile responses. The sexual abuse scandals of the past decade have exacerbated this, but they are just the latest factor in a long process of decline. So, it is what it is, as much as some of us might wish otherwise.
Christians might feel sad to see the church pushed further and further away from the halls of power, but this is not at all necessarily a bad thing as the former cosy relationship has often seen the Gospel message compromised. As Hart writes:
the national, serviceable, civil version of Christianity bears almost no discernible relation, beyond misapplied quotations, to the actual teachings of Jesus.”
Why is this so?
The church's 1700 year old cosy association with power and privilege has made life easier for generations of christians, but it has also had the effect of compromising and distorting some of the church's teachings. The church, in effect, has sold part of its soul in accepting secular power and its privileges.
A Christian church separated from the trappings of power is a Christian church that is freed to be true to itself. This can't help but be a stimulus for soul searching and a return to core beliefs and values. But what about Christians themselves?
They are freed to be genuinely who they are. They do not need to feel torn between the pragmatism of a politically compromised church on the one hand and the Gospel on the other. That doesn't mean Christians need or should be anti-government or maybe join the Occupy movement. It does mean they are freed to be authentic followers of Christ. They do not need to be followers of the secular state, nor slaves to secular trends. Hart puts it so well I will reproduce his words here:
Modestly put, if we seek to follow Jesus, we must be passers-by of many things around us: we should keep alert, we should discern where we are, we ought at times to avoid and not touch; we shouldn’t condemn, but neither should we be duped or gullible or willing to buy the latest cultural dope on offer; we should just move along, behaving circumspectly and speaking up when necessary boldly, charitably, humbly and hope that our dissimilarity from many societal norms will testify to others that there exists a better, more peaceable, more loving way to live.”
In other words, we are free (and, in fact, we are obliged) to be discrimating consumers of our culture. We need not to be mindless twits, drifting with the current of popular fads. We know who we are and we know what we believe. We choose to involve ourselves, or to stand back from the popular mood accordingly. We don't do this to draw attention to ourselves, but because we know what matters. (I love that thought.)
There is another implication for Christians. We are free to think about the meaning and worth of our denominational affiliations:
as Christendom wanes, we are under no national, doctrinal, or divine obligation to adhere exclusively to any one institutional expression of the church. . . . being a Christian is vital; being an Anglican is not.”
Adherence to traditions and practices of any one formal denomination will become weaker along with the decline of traditional church power structures. Hart sees this as a (potentially) good thing as at least some of the doctrinal and other differences that have dogged the church and pitted christian against christian have had more to do with churches' concern for power and influence than with being followers of Christ. Interesting thought, certainly in tune with the spirit of the age, but more importantly perhaps it will become more important for christians to work together and support each other in a world where they no longer have the ear of the powerful. In such circumstances perhaps a humble admission that none of us has a monopoly on correct understanding of God's nature will be of more use than a stubborn clinging to fine points of doctrinal difference? (I love that thought too!)
But it's not only the church's loss of influence in the political sphere that contemporary Christians need to deal with. Militant secularists are on the attack, many arguing against any Christian presence at all in public life. They deny the legitimacy of religious experience, dismissing it as 'fairy tales' and in other less complimentary terms. They champion science as the sole arbiter of truth and the only legitimate source of knowledge. Every other way of knowing, especially religion, they claim, is irrational and therefore false.
This is, of course, a massive overreach. We are free to treat such thinking with the contempt it deserves.
Hart is disturbed by the trend to elevate science to god-like status (as I am). Sorry for the longish quote but it sums up pretty well his strong objection to the secular pretension to possess ultimate knowledge of anything:
Since, in the imagination of advocates of scientism, all questions of meaning and purpose have already been answered by evolutionary science, neuroscience, etcetera, and rendered meaningless and purposeless by the hard philosophy of materialism, then man is finally free to reinvent man. Of course, in reality, they (militant secularists) have answered no question. Materialism is only a paltry and arid philosophy, and scientism like any other form of totalitarian thinking is at best delusional and at worst potentially horrific.
We human beings are really only bits of a “system” we did not create, do not govern, and except to the most infinitesimal and negligible degree imaginable can never hope to manipulate or genuinely influence.
The notion that we could ever formulate a “unified theory of everything” is an absurdity almost childish in its naïveté.”
Hart does not, however, believe that the old science versus religion arguments, or the “is God real?” debates have much, if any value. Certainly he thinks they are a waste of time for christians to engage in. Not because our arguments are weak, but because such contests prove little and we do not dignify ourselves by entering arguments conducted on our opponents' playing field.
When it comes to hot debates, apologetics, and polemics with despisers of faith, we should be none too eager to involve ourselves.
. . . any debate with unbelievers is something that should be at the very least handled with great care, exhibiting no arrogance and much humility. . . . a reasoned response is not to present “evidence” of one’s doctrinal theories, but to give a “gentle and reverent” rationale for why Christians do what they do and live as they live.
The contemptuous should receive stony silence and a turned back from us, not explanation or recrimination or a sign of undignified weakness. Simply silence, a drawn curtain, and a refusal to argue. If they alter their behavior and show genuine interest, we continue the discussion. Otherwise, we drop it.
Polemicism is always a sign of spiritual immaturity and insecurity, not a sign of authentic spiritual depth and worth.
Our deepest communal and personal spiritual beliefs we should share among ourselves. They are not cheap or common items, and they do not belong to the public at large.”
As one who from time to time becomes irritated with the tone of debate when secularists and religionists engage in battle I think Hart is on to something here. Rarely are such debates a genuine attempt to seek understanding. Most often, in my experience, they are an exercise in trying to score points. The debaters do not listen to each other. They talk past each other. I believe, as does Hart, that it can be a mistake to engage in discussions that turn into arguments. They do little to encourage mutual understanding:
“(arguments) with atheists and others achieve very little, and usually nothing at all. What “speaks” to them are our proclamation of God’s self- ­emptying compassion and our good deeds that indicate the truth of that proclamation.”
Hart is surely right on this. No one is interested in what we believe. They are interested in what we do.
On the subject of how christians interact with others, Hart draws a distinction between secular non- believers and people of non-christian religions. He thinks the way we interact with people of faith from other religions should be different from the way we interact with secular non-believers. We have more in common with followers of other religions than we do with those who deny the supernatural. People from other religions understand our worldviews intuitively in ways secularists cannot even begin to. He says we would do well to welcome them as brothers and sisters on the journey, even if their understandings are not the same as ours. I find myself coming around to this proposition the more I think about it. I should emphasise that I don't think Hart is advocating ignoring secularists or ostracising them. Not at all. Rather he thinks christians do not need to waste energy arguing pointlessly and endlessly with people who do not share the same starting assumptions. We do not need to accept their views of reality just as they do not need to accept ours. Very sensible advice I think.
“. . . pragmatically speaking, we should stand together with religious believers of every kind in today’s Western world, with its many ideologically anti-religious voices. Religious faith itself is under pressure, not just any one religion. We need each other’s support if we are to face the falsehoods, ugliness, and evils of a secularized, materialistic, scientistic, and anti-religious world.”
In those times we do talk about our faith with non-believers, Hart thinks, it is best to be humble and to keep things simple. Well, amen to that. I have always recoiled from people who I thought were trying to sell me on an issue by being overbearing and in my face! People who quote scripture verses and use them as self evident proof of their point make me especially nervous and uncomfortable. There! I said it.
Quoting scripture should be sparing. We are not “preaching the Bible” but inviting persons to experience the mystery of God. We must never forget that there is a deep, profoundly mystical element of our faith, a discipline and a practice to which we point. We are inviting people to discipleship, not church attendance.”
Amen to that too. I am and always have been very uncomfortable with “Bible-bashing”. My spirituality is of a very different type. The beauty and wonder of my faith is something I am happy to share with anybody, but only ever humbly, respectfully, and gently.
Hart ends by summarising his thoughts in five recommendations for christians dealing with the change from 'Christendom' with its predictability, its traditions, and its effortless (if nominal) discipleship. They make clear sense to me. They put a spring in my step, and joy in my heart:
So, what of those things we still possess from Christendom here and now? Some of them we can discard. They’re useless. Some of them we can hold on to with gratitude. And some things require re-evaluation and renewal:
Yes to dogma and creed and orthodoxy and a firm doctrinal tradition for our foundation; but no to dogmatism that divides, confuses, complicates, and has no pragmatic purpose.
Yes to our holy Bible, with its grand story of evolving knowledge of the self- ­disclosing God, and its New Testament of apostolic testimony; but no to flat, fundamentalist, anti- intellectual, and spiritually deadening biblicism.
Yes to sacramental unity, with baptism as our ontological union with the body of Christ . . . ; but no to institutional and hierarchical abuse of the sacraments and their meaning abuse that places barriers between believers with artificial excuses for doing so, and thus makes the sacraments signs of division instead of union.
Yes to proclaiming the good news that the Word was made flesh in Jesus Christ, and that he has brought new life to a fallen world; but no to polemics that would turn these glad tidings into arguments and controversy, dishonoring Christ and his way in the process.
Yes, above all, to Jesus Christ and the kingdom he proclaimed and the way of life he taught.”

So, after reading Hart's book I am feeling a lot more at ease with the world and my place in it. If you are in a similar place with your faith, maybe it is worth a read (available on amazon kindle).
 

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“Because sometimes you need a biologist,
and sometimes you need a poet.
Sometimes you need a scientist,
and sometimes you need a song.”

“You, me, love, quarks, sex, chocolate, the speed of light— it’s all miraculous, and it always has been.”

“It’s one thing to stand there in a lab coat with a clipboard, recording data about lips. It’s another thing to be kissed.”
 
 
 
Did any of that get your attention?
 
I've just spent the morning reading a short book I downloaded from the Amazon Kindle bookstore: “What we talk about when we talk about God” by Rob Bell. You can do that sort of thing when you're retired; one of the reasons I enjoy my life out of the workforce.
 
I'm not usually intererested in books on this subject as they are mostly a big yawn. Neither do I often find myself glued to a book, unwilling to put it down (well, actually I was using an ipad, but you know what I mean). Rob Bell has a special gift. He can articulate spiritual stuff like no one else I remember. I kept saying things to myself like: “yep” and “ah hah” as he painted a picture using common life experiences of a God we might be aware of deep inside ourselves, but whom is rarely spoken of.
 
This is not your standard apologetic book arguing for the existence of God. No way. Not even close. For a start it's not even the slightest bit dogmatic (ok, maybe it's there but I didn't see it).
 
Bell doesn't pretend that he has all the answers. He begins from a place of doubt and acknowledges the power of science, the paradox of human beings, and the incongruity of the miraculous, to present a God I can accept. More than that, he presents a God I recognise.
 
He doesn't avoid or undermine science. He celebrates it, along with the wonder and uncertainty of existence. To paraphrase him, science is a powerful tool, but is no arbiter of reality. He points out that we are all 'people of faith', whether we are religious believers, atheists, believers in the supremacy of science, or in the supernatural. He does not attack atheists. He reminds them, gently, of what they have in common with 'believers':
 
“Sometimes people who believe in God are referred to as “people of faith.” Which isn’t the whole truth, because everybody has faith. To believe in God requires faith. To experience this world and its endless surprise and mystery and depth and then emphatically declare that is has no common source, it is not headed somewhere, and it ultimately has no meaning— that takes faith as well.”

Bell is also no usual defender of the status quo, and I kind of like that. I feel a deep resonance between my faith and his ideas:
 
“you can be very religious and invoke the name of God and be able to quote lots of verses and be well versed in complicated theological systems and yet not be a person who sees . It’s one thing to sing about God and recite quotes about God and invoke God’s name; it’s another be aware of the presence in every taste, touch, sound, and embrace.”

How good is that?
 
I have long been a bit of a rebel, uncomfortable with the pietism of a few church people. It's nice to come across a writer who expresses that better than I can.
 
“So when we talk about God, we’re talking about our brushes with spirit, our awareness of the reverence humming within us, our sense of the nearness and the farness, that which we know and that which is unknown, that which we can talk about and that which eludes the grasp of our words, that which is crystal- clear and that which is more mysterious than ever. And sometimes language helps, and sometimes language fails.”

Absolutely! He's talking about the God I have faith in. How come I never thought to say that myself?
Bell goes on to explain the essence of the Christian Gospel as clearly as anyone, and more so than most:
 
“. . as advanced and intelligent and educated as we are, there are some things about the human condition that have not changed in thousands of years. It’s very important that we are honest about this glaring reality. We have progressed so incredibly far, invented so many things, found an endless array of new ways to process and share and communicate information, and yet the human heart has remained significantly unchanged, in that it still possesses the tremendous capacity to produce extraordinary ignorance, evil, and destruction. We need help.”

“. . the counterintuitive power of gospel: When you come to the end of yourself, you are at that exact moment in the kind of place where you can fully experience the God who is for you.”

So, take it or leave it I guess. Believe that you are in control or understand intuitively, as I do, that you are not. Bell would argue that as long as people believe they are in control, God is inaccessible to them. Pretty harsh stuff, no? Probably not what many want to hear. I must confess I have been a slow learner on this issue, having learned what little I have learned after bitter experience.
 
I loved this:
“We’re all, in one way or another, addicts, aren’t we? Some are addicted to the praise of others, some to working all the time, some to winning, others to worrying, some to perfection, some to being right, strong, beautiful, thin . . . perhaps you are enslaved to your own self- sufficiency, or drugs or alcohol or sex or money or food. “

Sort of puts an interesting spin on things, no? Do you think of yourself as an addict? Or do you (unlike me) have it all under control?
 
And this:
“And so we come to the table exactly as we are, some days on top of the world, other days barely getting by. Some days we feel like a number, like a machine, like a mere cog in a machine, severed and separated from the depth of things, this day feeling like all the others. Other days we come feeling tuned in to the song, fully alive, hyperaware of the God who is all in all. The point of the experience isn’t to create special space where God is, over and against the rest of life where God isn’t. The power is in the striking ability of this experience to open our eyes all over again (and again and again) to the holiness and sacred nature of all of life, from family to friends to neighbors to money and breath and sex and work and play and food and wine.”

This is my life! This is how my life seems to me. I think Bell is on to a sublime truth here (and in so many other places in this book). The good and the bad; the sacred and the mundane; the wrong choices; the repeated disappointments with myself and the insight that tells me that nonetheless I continue to matter and that my life is not futile. This is how God is real to me. Maybe my life is not the same as yours. So be it.
 
I recommend this book warmly to you, whether or not you are call yourself a 'believer'. I found his writing honest, generous, challenging, humble and insightful. I hope you too will find it full of 'ah hah' moments.
It would possibly not be a surprise to learn that not everyone is happy about his work.
 
A quick glance through the comments on the Kindle page shows that Rob Bell is not orthodox enough for some and far too 'loose' and liberal for others. For this particular conservative Christian though, who is also a bit of a rebel, and a bit of a mystic, I was reminded that I am not alone in the way I experience God.
 
I thank him for that.
__________________________
 
 
“The peace we are offered is not a peace that is free from tragedy, illness, bankruptcy, divorce, depression, or heartache. It is peace rooted in the trust that the life Jesus gives us is deeper, wider, stronger, and more enduring than whatever our current circumstances are, because all we see is not all there is and the last word about us and our struggle has not yet been spoken. There is great mystery in these realities, the one in which we are strong when we are weak, the one in which we come to the end of ourselves, only to discover that God has been there the whole time, the God who is for us.”
 
 
 
 
 

Morning Mysticism

 
 
The days are shrinking. The sun rising later. Opportunities return for early morning photography.
 
 
Questions sidle up to me in the morning light.
Discordant ones. Persistent ones. Questions that don’t always suggest themselves in the mundane, but attach themselves to times and places of natural beauty. Maybe my inner mystic feels less inhibited at these times.
A whole lot of things don’t make sense to me early in the morning.
 
For instance, when we look behind the curtain, why is this world full of beauty and sunrises not all that nice a place?
 
Why, to focus on one local example, do we need to be careful about road rage on our roads? Aren’t we all brothers and sisters? It’s only a few minutes extra, or only a careless lane change, or only a red light for goodness sake. It’s not like I planned to insult your virility.
 
How is it that our best efforts to protect ourselves from terrorism can be used against us by a determined demented pilot who flies himself and his passengers into a mountainside? Is absolute safety an illusion?
 
Why are grotesque murders, rape, and ethnic cleansing still weapons of choice in the worldwide war of ideas? Aren’t we enlightened? Haven’t we evolved? With all our technological toys and diversions, aren’t we free of the primitive drives that lead us to murder and maim and act without humanity?
 
When we find our safe, predictable little worlds shaken and stirred by a reality too brutal to accommodate, we can be forgiven for wondering. Is our belief in ourselves and our technology enough to save us?
 
I think back 25 years to the time when the Berlin Wall was pulled down. The end of history they said. Nuclear war henceforth only a memory. A new dawn in human affairs (not the extra-marital kind) had surely begun to wash over the world. Diplomatic allegiances seemed all a bit passé in the new world order. Surely right and justice would now triumph. Humanity’s greatest hour was upon us.
 
Except it was all a crock, wasn’t it?
 
The massacres didn’t stop. The atrocities began to shock us in ways not previously thought possible. They became more blatant as the perpetrators raised their collective finger to this supposed new world order.
Why is evil so obviously rampant in our world? If evil were truly a random occurrence it seems to me there should be enough good around to neutralize it. Why does evil seem to hold the best cards? Good does not always triumph. Bad guys finish first a lot of the time.
 
What has happened to us?
Is there any justice? Are there any rules that can’t be trashed at the altar of personal convenience? Does anything make sense?
 
Standing in the calm of a morning like this one I do not doubt it all makes sense somehow, somewhere, sometime. I just wish it would all make sense in a nicely understandable way to me!
 
After all, why should I be left to wander and wonder? If there is a plan, shouldn’t I be in on it? I could stamp my feet I guess and hold my breath until it was all revealed. Whoever pulls the control levers; the celestial project manager; God; The laws of Physics; (insert your prefered diety); could then rest easy that I had given my assent.
But that’s not the way it works.
 
On this beautiful cool calm morning, when the world is all new again around me, an answer of sorts suggests itself. I am most assuredly not the pivot on which the Earth turns. It does not all need to make sense to me. I am part of the whole, but I did not make it, or plan it, and this whole certainly feels no obligation to conform to my sensitivities. Why should it?
 
 
I am not the maker. I am the made.
 
I turn away a little less troubled by questions I can not answer, comfortable in the light of the pre-dawn, knowing with a quiet certainty that I matter to God, whether or not I understand why.
 
 
 
 

Rising in Me

There is a finite risk this post will cause some of you to doubt my grip on reality. Be that as it may, I remain as sane as I have ever been. But I would say that, wouldn’t I?

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Sunday evening mysticism 101.

The singer Jon Robinson is maybe not a household word, but I enjoy his music. I hope he doesn’t mind if I reproduce a couple of lines from his song “Rising in Me”.

Then a wind like a breath of life
carried everything up and away,
whirling and swirling and twirling
and living and and all I could say
was I’m in the spirit and the spirit’s in me.

In the spirit, everything’s free,
freer than it’s ever been
and all I could see
was a rainbow like a hurricane rising in me.

(www.jonrobinsonmusic.com)

I don’t usually find much inspiration on Sunday evenings. The dying day usually finds me watching television or listening to music, trying to avoid thinking about the coming week. Not so this time.

As I leave the weekend behind I’m in a good place; despite what Monday holds. Picking my mother up from her nursing home, driving for an hour with her to a hospital, and waiting most of the day while she has a day surgical procedure, has every chance of being a testing, trying time for both of us. A day I’ll ‘never get back’, as the saying goes.
Right now the prospect doesn’t faze me. Tomorrow can look after itself, and probably will.

Sensing more than feeling it; a slow gentle tide of well-being is rising in me. Life force, peacefulness, even excitement, buoys me. It doesn’t overpower, but sits comfortably within, as if there has always been room there for it. It knows me intimately; affirms and relaxes me. A presence in no way alien, it completes me.

With unusual and beautiful certainty I know in these moments I am in a place that I have longed to be; neither in the driver’s seat, nor a passenger.

This evening I have no desire for things beyond the present. Here and now is enough. I know without needing to wonder, that anything and everything is possible. At the same time I feel no need to grasp for anything.

I might not be in this place tomorrow. Whether or not, I find myself at peace with that.

Is this the presence of God? Who knows? I’m happy to take it as a given though.

At the very least, what I have experienced tonight is a great way to start the week. I needed to share it.

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