Pursuing the Horizon

I saw a man pursuing the horizon;

Round and round they sped.

I was disturbed at this;

I accosted the man.

“It is futile,” I said,

“You can never--”

“You lie,” he cried,

And ran on.

 -Stephen Crane, 1895

Sometimes I think that cleaning my room is like chasing the horizon.

You see, I’m a bit OCD. My closet is double-coordinated, both by color and by style, so since it’s January, my white sweaters are in the very front, yellow sweaters behind them, orange behind them...and so on until I reach the black print tees so far back that I have to travel across Narnia just to get to them, leaving rainbowed heaps of clothes and hangers in my wake.

But it’s not just not my closet that gets this obsessive treatment; how could I leave red colored pencils sardined between yellows and purples; Dr. Seuss on my bookshelf next to Jane Austen; or a Kenny Chesney CD sandwiched between Eminem and Casting Crowns? Gross.

I’ll be the first to admit, though, that this system is highly inefficient. When a friend calls and asks “Hey, I’m about to turn onto your street--do you want to go into Boston right now?” and I’m still in my PJs, it’s pretty much impossible to keep my closet organized. Instead, I reach for that cute blue blouse holding the median in my line of clothing, knocking off any innocent by-standers in my way, and when I rush into my room later that night to quickly pack for an impromptu sleepover, I’m more likely to send a few more shirts to the ground than to pick up the ones that fell earlier. After a few more hectic days, my previously perfect succession of tops is not much more than a giant, 100% cotton mountain just begging to be played hide-and-seek in. The same messy fate awaits my genre-classified CD collection when my mood swings send me from country to screamo in a matter of hours and my colored-pencils when my 2 year-old cousin Jack wants to make his mom a birthday card.

So unsurprisingly, three weeks before I was supposed to head off for my freshman year of college, I stepped into my room and realized that it was beginning to resemble a war-zone and decided that I wanted it to be completely immaculate by the time I left for school. I didn’t merely hang up clothes and vacuum the rug and make my bed; I gave away every outgrown article of clothing I owned; dusted every inch of surface in my room; and searched through piles of boxes, throwing away stringless yo-yos and pens without ink and broken earrings that at some point I had apparently decided to save (Hey, you never know when you might need a defective yo-yo...).

For the first week of this arduous process, something happened that I would have thought impossible: somehow, my room got even worse. Mounds of clothes and books and CDs and art supplies and magazines and shoes blanketed the floor, lines of mascara and necklaces and lipgloss decorated my desk, and loose papers and movie tickets and old receipts suffocated the top of my dresser.

Come to think of it, cleaning my room may be a bit harder than running after that horizon-thing.

But pursuing the horizon is also a lot like understanding God. The longer and harder you try, the more you realize just how small you are compared to what you’re chasing. And just when you think you’re finally catching on, you are reminded of how far behind you really are.

The more I study God’s Word and creation, the more questions I have; discovering one answer opens up another whole realm of ambiguities and uncertainties. Sometimes I wonder, why couldn’t God just answer everything straight-out? Tell us simply: seven 24-hour days or indefinite lengths of time? can someone lose his salvation? should women be allowed to preach? do you need to be baptized to be saved? 

If the Bible clearly stated the truth about these issues, then Christians could spend less time arguing about doctrine and more at soup kitchens. Instead of fighting each other, we could fight the sex trade. We wouldn’t be divided into hundreds of denominations--differing in styles of worship and views on the Eucharist--but would gather together as a united body of Christ-followers.

At the same time, though, these obscurities force us to search, to scrutinize, and to investigate. We can’t just open up the Bible and say, “Look here, chapter 9 clearly states that all Christians should oppose gay marriage.” And it’s better this way!

Have you ever tutored someone in, say, pre-algebra? It’s simple enough that you can easily execute the problems, but when your 12 year-old cousin asks "why?", you find yourself struggling to answer. When you need to provide clear support and lead someone through the process, you are forced to delve into the math far beyond the shallow “that’s just the way it is.”

This doesn’t only hold true when it comes to basic algebra; it’s true when discussing politics, or philosophy, or the Bible. When we are told the answers, then we don’t have to engage in the search--and, as is often said, sometimes the journey is just as important as the destination. Sometimes the process of studying the context of Bible passages, of analyzing scientific data, and of observing the world around us, is more beneficial than the solution itself.

Clearly, Jesus knew this. If he was merely interested in giving us all the right answers, He would not have taught almost entirely in parables and vague symbolism. He wanted his followers to dig for answers and take the time to decipher what His teachings meant. And He still wants us to do that.

So, yes, sometimes understanding God and the Bible may seem impossible. Sometimes it may seem as if studying brings us one step forward and ten steps back. Sometimes it may seem pointless. Sometimes it may seem futile.

But don’t give up. Run on. Keep pursuing the horizon.

(January 21, 2011)

Accidental Art

Throughout my four years of mandatory art courses in high school, I only produced one piece of work praised by my teacher. It was not the oil painting I worked on for three months, not the rug I spent six weeks weaving, and not the clay jar I molded for most of my junior year. No, the only creation I made ever praised by my teacher was not even a project at all. See, I was aiming to reproduce an ancient Greek painting of a pillared temple, with string outlining the basic structure. As I painted the strings orange and brown, I kept a blank piece of canvas underneath to keep from coloring on the art table. This piece of canvas--eventually covered in orange and brown scribbles and doodles and smudges--was apparently the most beautiful artwork I produced all through high school.      

Does this seem counterintuitive? It does to me. How can an accidental mesh of autumn colors be more beautiful than the precise portrait for which it took six months for me to find the accurate dimensions and proper blend of colors? What makes one piece of work more beautiful than another? Can we actually say with confidence that something is better or worse than another?        

My answer to that final question is: yes, yes we can. Most American teenagers prefer Lil Wayne to Johannes Brahms, but Brahms' music is certainly of higher quality. As Gardner put it, "...the greatest works of art are ... those that give the most intense pleasure, for the longest period of time, to the most competent critics." Thus one test is whether Lil Wayne's profane music will be as highly regarded in 150 years as Brahms' is today. However, we must also take into account WHO is judging the music. A teenager like me with little knowledge of musical structure and creation is less competent to judge the quality of music than a classically-trained musician and critic.        

But there is a such thing as "quality" in terms of art, and although it can never be consummately defined, it can often be determined. One aspect of quality is the staying-time of the piece. Is the movie better the more you watch it, or do the jokes become more stale and the plot all the more predictable? Can you appreciate the song years later, or are you tired of hearing it even before it falls out of the top-40 charts?      

In my English class, we had to write an analysis of the following poem by William Carlos Williams:

so much depends
upon

a red wheel
barrow

glazed with rain
water

beside the white
chickens.        

My first reaction to this assignment was similar to that of Gardner: I could write a poem of equal quality in less than a minute! But the more I delved into the context of the poem, the more I realized that this poem may, in fact, be of high quality. In just sixteen words, and 22 syllables, Williams outlines the plight of the American agricultural situation and highlights the dependence of the rest of this country upon this struggling institution. One measure of quality is that deeper analysis leads to deeper appreciation, and not the other way around.        

More difficult to judge, perhaps, than music or literature, is visual art. In San Francisco, large sculptures appear throughout the city. Supposedly, they are wonderful pieces of architectural creativity, but I didn’t see it--to me, they lacked any set design; they seemed to be thrown together haphazardly, just odd shapes carved into stone. I don't know what to make of this type of abstract art. It cannot really be critiqued like other types of art, because it is meant to be illogical. I guess this comes down to personal preference.        

However, personal preference alone cannot determine "good" or "bad" art. Certain characteristics determine the quality of a piece. In music, it may be the complexity of the lyrics, the full representation of chords, the effective use of build-up; in writing, it may be the vibrance of the imagery, the depth of characters, the promotion of the theme; in visual art, it may be the proper use of colors, the precision of the dimensions, the evocation of feeling.        

Overall, when grading quality of art, three main terms come to mind: complexity, clarity, and effectiveness. The more complex the artwork, the more capable it is to withstand time, and the stronger it will stand after intense analysis. But without clarity, the complexity of a piece is meaningless. One needs to accurately relate the ideas to the audience in the most clear way possible. The perfect combination of complexity and clarity creates an effective piece of work. Whether the goal is to persuade, to calm, to inform, to enrage, or to provoke, the effectiveness of the piece is dependent upon its interaction with its audience. A quality piece is an effective piece.        

Which brings me back to my scratch-paper masterpiece. I had no intention of creating a piece of work, and had no goal in mind, so in the terms I laid out, my piece was not of high-quality. This leads me to believe that my terms are not altogether accurate, that something may just be beautiful, whether it is trying to be or not. Perhaps even accidental art can be good.        

I don't know what necessarily makes one piece of art better than another, but I know that there certainly are standards of quality. Otherwise, I could argue that my essays are just as well-written as Gardner's, my paintings as well done as Claude Monet's, and my songs as well-orchestrated as Tchaikovsky's. Even in today’s politically correct culture, some things are just plain better than others.

(Novermber 11, 2010)

But That's Not Fair!

A college class is debating whether or not there can be universally-accepted standards for morality and ethics. As nearly all of the students sway to the side of the cultural relativists, the professor has a trick up his sleeve: for the latest test, he gave each person the same grade, no matter how well (or horribly) they actually performed. Predictably, the students complain and rebel against this new grading system, claiming that it is unfair, and thus reinforcing the professor's belief that we all have certain standards of right and wrong, even if we only care when we ourselves are the victims.          

The preceding story is very famous and often used to oppose cultural relativism. It aims to prove that, when it comes to our own personal welfare, individuals have a firm sense of moral standards.        

Different cultures have different values and opinions: ancient Spartans viewed fighting in war as heroic and venerable, while Quakers refrain from physical fighting, even self-defense; in most western nations, polygamy is forbidden on moral grounds, yet in some African tribal cultures it is considered honorable for a wealthy man to support multiple women.        

In the United States, we sometimes look down upon the lavish spending of wealthy citizens. We see the hiring of maids and butlers as lazy, selfish, and unnecessary. But in India, those with money are expected to hire maids and chefs and personal drivers, because they are providing jobs for those who otherwise would have no money. It is their duty.        

Yet despite these cultural differences, universal standards for ethics do exist. There may not always be 100% firm absolutes, but there is nonetheless a right and a wrong, or at least a worse and a better.          

For example, lying is wrong. In most every culture, honesty is valued and fibbing is not. Yet in some cases, lying may be the best option. King David lied in order to save thousands of his men. Members of the Underground Railroad and Europeans during the Holocaust lied to save the lives of the pursued victims. In those instances, nearly all would agree that lying had the greatest benefits. So, a statement such as "Lying is always wrong" is unrealistic, but each situation still has a better option and a worse option. In any situation, lying is either acceptable or not.          

Cultural relativists argue that because there is no clear right and wrong, then no culture can be more--or less--moral than any other culture. But this is simply untrue. Say a pagan tribe in the Amazon kills innocent children every month to sacrifice to the sun. Clearly they lack the respect for human life that modern western culture has. The United States' political and judicial systems (flawed as they are) are far more just and fair than the dictatorships in China and North Korea.          

To say that no culture is better or more advanced than any other challenges common sense. How could one honestly say that the King Cotton slave culture of the South in the 1800's was as just as the current US social landscape (which, unfortunately, is still very far from perfect)? A culture that promotes slavery and a culture that bans it cannot be equally moral. One must have precedence over the other.          

Certainly some universal standards are held by all cultures. You are always looked down upon if you do no work, yet reap the benefits of the work of others. That is why socialism does not work; we do not find it fair to work twice as hard as our neighbor and yet receive the same pay. Nor do we find it acceptable for someone to steal for himself something that we own. Whether or not we admit it, we all hold moral standards when we are the victims. Suddenly our conscience becomes twice as astute.        

Not all issues are clearly black and white; gray areas abound. However, there do exist universal standards of ethics. Some behaviors are either looked down upon or accepted depending on the culture, but at the same time, there are consistent ideas of human goodness that do not change depending on the situation.          

And if you disagree with me, then I'll offer you a deal: you give me ten dollars and I'll give you five. Clearly you would not go for this deal because you know five is less than ten. Likewise, some cultures are inferior to others. Cultures which do not value life or care for the lowest members of society are not as well-developed, or moral, as nations such as the US.  

(November 1, 2010)  

If Only... Utopian Aspirations

I am a socialist.        

See, the foundation of socialist communities are altruistic; they seek to enhance the quality of life for all of society. Socialism strives to create a world of equality, where each has what he needs but no more, where we share with our neighbors, where we do the same amount of work for the same amount of reward.          

In theory, this is the best, most pure, most "Christian" societal structure. The problem, though, is that it is unrealistic. So in theory, yes, I am a socialist. But realistically, I don’t think this could ever work in a world so horribly skewed as our own.          

Many men and women are selfless, law-abiding citizens who are concerned with the welfare of others, but many are also self-seeking, law-breaking criminals who are concerned with the welfare of themselves. There is a reason that our prisons are filled past maximum capacity: humans sin, and sin often.        

In the history of humankind after Genesis 2, our world has seen horrible atrocities resulting from our sin. We've seen the bubonic plague and cancer, the Crusades and terrorism, gladiatorial killings and the Holocaust. Anyone who argues that our world is good has amazingly low standards, because it is filled with evil.        

Mankind can not be counted on to live in a socialist community. By nature, we are greedy; by nature, we are selfish; by nature, we are lazy. Once the human ingredient is mixed in, suddenly the batch of harmonious socialism goes sour. Realistically, it can never work, which is why we need some sort of government.          

I am not offering government up as a perfect, end-all solution. It is filled with corruption, malice, greed, and self-interest. It is filled with people, after all. But although it has many flaws, it is necessary. We need a set structure, with rules and standards, to keep our world from chaos.        

I do not know which political structure is best. Some--like socialism-- are wonderful in theory, while others are more realistic. Historical studies and knowledge come into play here, allowing us to look back on what succeeded and failed in past civilizations. History shows where monarchies turn into dictatorships, and where democracy turns into socialism, and where socialism turns into anarchy. We have to learn from our mistakes.          

The plain truth, though, is that no system will ever be perfect. As long as humans are involved, so will be flaws and so will be mistakes and so will be injustices. Humans own a slight twist on the Midas Touch: we touch something, and it immediately turns imperfect.          

The Bible tells us that whatever is built by men will soon pass, but that which is built on God will live on. Without God at the center of our society, it will never completely work. Since we do not live in a "Christian" country, but rather one with religious freedom, I suppose God is not at the center of our legal system. So, our government can never be perfect. As long as we are in charge, we will live in flawed societies.          

I do have an idea of what a perfect society would be like, and it is socialist at its core: it is the Early Church. The rich and the poor ate together at one table. When one was in need, their brothers and sisters would provide. They were a community in every sense of the word: they shared, they nurtured, they gave, they received, they prayed, they worked--they were selflessly concerned with the other members of the Church. This is what society should look like.            

Unfortunately, I'm not sure this is possible. Even that Early Church later developed into one of the most corrupt institutions in history, the medieval Catholic Church. So despite our best efforts, societies will always be far from perfect. Government will be corrupt, anarchy will be chaotic-- we can't win.          

However, we should still strive to make society better. It will never be perfect, but it can be better. We can pray for our political leaders, and we can even become political leaders ourselves. Government is necessary, flawed as it is, and we must work within it to improve society.          

Imagine a world where each has what he needs but no more, where we share with our neighbors, where we do the same amount of work for the same amount of reward. Perhaps this socialist utopia cannot be found east of Eden.

(November 3. 2010)

Playing Within the Rules

People like rules. That's why we compete in athletics, write poetry, and play sudoku. Creativity is not as meaningful when it is not within the context of restrictions.        

Playing basketball allows me to express myself through dribbling, passing, shooting, defending, and everything in between. When I drive to the basket, I exercise my creativity by deciding between a reverse lay-up or a no-look pass. Nobody forces me to make decisions on the court; I control my own destiny.        

Of course, I cannot do whatever I want--I cannot run with the ball or dribble out of bounds, kick the ball or kick my opponent --but these restrictions are what allow my creativity to develop. The strategy of manipulating the rules to my advantage is what makes basketball fun for me.        

I see basketball as a microcosm for life. We are bounded by certain earthly laws (such as gravity) which partially control our lives, and we do not have complete power over the decisions of others. So, we are not free to do whatever we want; like in basketball, there are restrictions on our freedom. But we also have the ability to choose our own actions. We may not have power over the world around us, but we do have a certain amount of power to determine our behavior within the environmental restrictions.        

Let's say you are one of fifteen applicants for a managerial job. You do not have the power to give yourself the job, but there are certain steps you can follow to put yourself in a good position. You can earn a college degree, excel in your graduate studies, speak eloquently and dress professionally in your interview. You have the ability to control these factors, but not necessarily the outcome.        

Basically, we do not have total power over our own destiny, but we do exercise considerable control over it.        

Most theists argue that free will is the cause of evil in this world. If humans had no freedom, then we would have never sinned, and the world would remain a perfect Eden paradise. But of course, our world is far from perfect; it's full of greed, sickness, death, and corruption. This can only lead us to conclude that humans have sinned, and we thus have free will.        

The bigger unknown, to me, is the extent of our freedom. As a Christian, I believe that God has a plan for me and everyone else He created. But I do not believe He controls every single move I make. If He did, then why even bother to create us? He wants us to have a sense of autonomy, to choose between lying and telling the truth, giving and taking, Coke or Pepsi.        

We are like players in a game of chess. We are free to make our own choices, but not free to do absolutely anything we please. We can move our rook, our queen, our bishop, or our knight--but we cannot move our queen in an L-shape or our bishop straight ahead. We cannot force our opponent to move his king where we would like, but this does not affect our own free will. We do not control our environment; we do control our actions. Perhaps someone starts the game off without their queen (they are born into poverty, or have an alcoholic father)--their chances for success have already been minimized. But if they start off with two queens ( they are from a wealthy family and have two doting parents)--their chances for success have been enlarged. They are not automatically resigned to particular fates, but their situations make it more likely.        

I believe that God knows the future. It is too difficult for me to ignore verses such as Jeremiah 29:11, which states "'For I know the plans I have for you,' declares the Lord, 'plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you a hope and a future."' Some argue that the future is unknowable, so it takes nothing away from His greatness to say that He does not know the future. I disagree. I believe that God knows the future, and that is why we can trust that He will protect us at all times. What kind of peace could we have if we worshipped a God who is just as surprised by the future as we are?        

The rising idea that God knows all possible futures, but not which future will take place, is intriguing but leaves me with a few questions. Namely, if God does not know which future will take place, then how did He make such bold and specific prophecies about Jesus' birth, life, death, and resurrection hundreds of years before the birth of Christ? I suppose one could argue that for that particular event, there was only one possible future. Still, I'm not sure I find this theory altogether convincing.        

I do, however, like the idea that God is outside of time and space. He created the universe, and thus is not bound by the earthly laws He set up. The idea is a bit confusing, but ultimately God sees everything unfold as a movie; He is watching it as it happens.        

My personal belief is that it's impossible to be certain of whether or not God knows the future. But I do think it is an important question. I certainly would lead my life differently if I did not think God was in control.      

It is easy as privileged Americans to take hold of the opinion that we have complete autonomy over our lives, but I doubt we would hold similar beliefs if born under different circumstances. For example, the middle-class often ignorantly assumes that impoverished people deserve little compassion because they are lazy and unmotivated. We tend to ignore the truth, which is that we could have just as easily been born into their situation.        

So how do we reconcile the belief of human free will with that of God's limitless knowledge? I'm not entirely sure. We have no control over where and when we are born, factors that undoubtedly contribute to the paths our lives take. There are many factors that control our lives, and that we cannot overcome no matter how hard we try. I have a friend who suffers from bi-polar disorder. Some days she is ecstatic, others so depressed she borders suicidal. She is increasingly frustrated that she cannot control her own emotions, despite heavy drug prescriptions. These are conditions she is forced to live under. These are the rules for her game. She can make her own choices, but only to an extent.        

Certain environmental factors limit our freedom, but we are free nonetheless. God exercises certain control over our lives (such as where we are born) and we are subject to the world in which we live. We can apply sunscreen, not wear antiperspirant, stay away from cell phones, and never smoke, but we could still become victims to cancer. We are affected by the actions of everyone else, whether our boss or the criminal holding a gun to our head. Physical laws make it so that we cannot jump off a bridge and fly or be in two places at once.        

We all have freedom to do what we choose--as long as its within the rules for the game, and those rules can differ for each person.

(October 21, 2010)

Frustrations of an Uninformed Christian Agnostic

I spent my pre-kindergarten to high school years in a fairly conservative Christian school. The Bible was seen as the ultimate authority, but as students we were always encouraged to ask questions. We debated about abortion, the inerrancy of Scripture, and whether or not one could lose salvation. I tended to take the more heretical side during these discussions, whether I agreed with them or not, because I wanted to ask questions and not just make ignorant assumptions. But I never questioned the existence of God.        

To me, it has always been impossible to doubt Him. There are many reasons for this, I'm sure. People often can't let themselves believe in Him because they have had such horrible life experiences; I had a very privileged childhood in a wonderful family, with no overwhelming sense of abandonment. Others argue that they want to believe in God, but that their knowledge about the universe simply cannot mesh with the absurdity of the Bible and Christianity.        

That second reason is the argument that is becoming more challenging for me. I never really thought about Evolution or the Big Bang Theory growing up, even as I debated and questioned every other topic imaginable. For some reason, I always considered the conventional theory of Creationism to be a given. As I got older, I allowed that perhaps God could have used these two processes, but that He was still the mastermind behind it all. With this I had no problem.        

But the more I grow familiar with some atheistic theories, the more doubts I find rising inside of me. Perhaps the Biblical retorts I learned in high school are much more ignorant than I thought; maybe these theories actually possess a great deal of validity.        

I always thought that, because our universe could only survive under such ideal conditions, then obviously God created it this way. But then I hear new (to me) theories, such as this: millions upon billions of reactions had been taking place constantly, and eventually one of these reactions resulted in our solar system. As a Christian, I would argue that the odds of our world developing by mere chance are infinitely small. But then again, if there were millions of reactions, it is not unreasonable to believe that one could have worked out perfectly to support our world.        

Of course this theory has flaws, particularly how that original matter or energy came into existence. I believe that, given enough sample space, something incredibly improbable could happen, but I do not believe that something impossible could ever happen, no matter how much time was given.        

Atheists sometimes state the philosophical idea that, of course everything is "just right" for our existence here; if the sun were just a little bit closer to us, we wouldn't be alive in the first place. I can kind of see truth to this idea. It seems like our world was carefully designed especially for us, but that's only because if the situation wasn't ideal, then we wouldn't be around to debate this topic anyways.        

My main frustration with this whole debate on the origin of the universe is that I am ultimately clueless. Like a Medieval peasant with no Bible in the vernacular, I am forced to trust more knowledgeable people who are able to read. In this case, I must rely on physicists because I do not understand it on my own. Talk of molecular motion and subatomic particles leaves me confused, never mind the complications that come into play when debating eternity. So, I am forced to rely on what scientists tell me. I have no way of knowing what is true, or what is even logical, which puts me in a very lowly and dangerous position.        

But although my lack of scientific aptitude leaves me feeling somewhat helpless, certain concepts still keep me from turning my back on the Creator. Theists often speak of the complexity of the human organism, or the unique patterns of individual snowflakes, and while those are certainly strong evidence for an intelligent design, they are not the strongest evidence for my belief in God. To me, the concept of human consciousness is impossible to fathom without belief in God. Perhaps the intricacies of the brain could develop given enough time, but the human mind could not. Our ability to reason cannot be explained, nor our inherent ability to distinguish right from wrong. I do not believe that such an abstract development could happen by chance.        

Linguists often use the term "Universal Grammar" for the theory that all people are born with an innate ability to learn language. This idea is nearly universally accepted, by both theists and atheists alike. Most people may not see this as evidence for God, but I do. According to the theory, all babies are born with a language blueprint. They have the ability to understand linguistic concepts of all languages, not just ones they hear at home, and are able to make sounds from every dialect, even ones that are never spoken where they live. There is overwhelming support (which I can't go into in much detail here) for the belief that babies do not learn language from their parents or "Baby Einstein" videos, but that they are born with an innate capacity to speak. To me, this is great evidence for intelligent design; such a uniquely complex development does not just merely happen.        

So, I believe in God. Maybe most of my reasons for belief are not purely logical and cannot be explained through mathematical formulas or scientific postulates. But I do believe that there is scientific evidence for a Creator. Maybe He used Evolution, maybe He used the Big Bang-- I don't know, but I see no problem with that. But no matter how much time elapses, I don't believe that the complexity of the world could be the mere result of chemical reactions. I understand that there is some great support for those theories, but I do not think they adequately explain the complexity of our human intellect, emotions, and innate knowledge of language and morality.        

Perhaps logic alone cannot prove the existence of God. But logic alone certainly does not disprove His existence either.

(October 18, 2010)

The Game That God Can't Lose

Although the popular television show "GLEE" is a comedy, its latest episode delves into religion and poses some of the same questions I've struggled with myself. One of the main characters is the narcissistic cheerleading coach Sue Sylvester, who specializes in knocking the joy out of the kids in the high school glee club. In last week's episode, she aims to prevent the kids from singing spiritual songs, because they are, after all, in a public school. When a fellow teacher asks Sue why she is so anti-religion, Sue responds with a heartfelt testimony: when she was younger, she looked up to her older sister (who appears to be mentally-handicapped) and prayed every night that others would stop treating her so cruelly. When they never stopped, she considered her prayers unanswered and concluded that there is no God.      

I've had similar feelings to that of Sue. Last March, a friend from my church was found hanging by a belt in his bedroom. He was in critical condition, but not pronounced dead at the site. I prayed constantly for Christian, who was only fifteen, for the following few days. Entire websites were dedicated to prayers for him, with hundreds of people posting their prayers. And yet, later that week Christian died.      

Why did God allow him to die? Didn't He hear our prayers? Did He simply choose to ignore us? I can't help but wonder sometimes if prayer even matters at all. God already knows what is going to happen, so my petition will not change the future outcome. If God wanted to save Christian, He would have, whether I prayed or not.      

Of course, there must be some reason that Jesus calls us to pray daily. And not just prayers of praise and thanksgiving, either, but of offering up our burdens to Him and asking for daily supplication. But I find myself so skeptical of prayer.      

Evangelical Christianity is full of stories of answered prayers--just pick up the latest "Chicken Soup" book. Men will tell of needing money to pay their mortgage, of working long hours at multiple jobs, of selling furniture on EBay, of praying daily and nightly, and then still coming up $500 short. And then, as they are preparing to lose their home, they receive a check in the mail. And you'll never guess the amount--$5oo! It's a miracle! His prayers were answered!      

My former Spanish teacher once told us of her "Stoplight prayers." When she was running late for a particularly important meeting, she would pray furiously as she drove down the street, "Dear Jesus, please help me to avoid red lights. Please give me all green lights. Please, Jesus, please." Miraculously, she would arrive at each light just as it was changing to green, and she would always make it to her appointment right on time.      

I apologize if the preceding two paragraphs appear unnecessarily harsh; I am not trying to put down the powerful reality of prayer, even in events so mundane as beating a traffic light. It's just that I don't understand these prayers. If that man had lost his house, would he deny the power of God? Or would he believe that losing the house was part of God's plan, and that something even greater is in store for him? And if my teacher hit a red light and walked into her meeting five minutes late, is that because God doesn't care, or because she spent too long perfecting her mascara in the mirror?      

God is infinitely more intelligent than I am, so please don't mistake me as criticizing His lack of judgment, but why would He answer "stoplight prayers" and not those of starving children in AIDS-stricken and civil-war-torn Rwanda? Isn't it foolish to allow these children to die, but make sure that a healthy, wealthy American who overslept doesn't arrive to a meeting a few minutes late?      

I guess the nature of prayer has always puzzled me. I know that it matters, but I don't know why. I know that I'm called to humbly petition my wants and needs before Him, but I don't know how much it matters; He already knows my wants and needs. And, He already knows the future. Will my ten-second prayer change His mind so that He decides to save my friend's life?      

As Christians, we credit God anytime someone recovers from cancer (and rightfully so). We believe that the afflicted person was healed because of the hundreds of people who were earnestly praying for her recovery. But what of those who are prayed for but still die? If we had maybe prayed just a little bit harder, or if maybe one or two more people had prayed, would the person have been healed?      

And, are there certain prayers that are "worthy" of being asked? Surely it is reasonable to ask for physical healing, but what about asking to win a softball game? Sometimes when I'm up at bat with two outs and  runners on second and third base, I send up a silent prayer. But then I can't help but wonder if the pitcher is also praying, not that I will succeed, but that I will fail. In this head-to-head battle of prayer warriors, who wins? Is it whoever prays harder, or perhaps who has a deeper relationship with God?      

When the Red Sox won the World Series back in 2004, a DVD was released documenting the role of Christianity on the team. Interviews with outspoken Christians such as Doug Mirabelli, Jason Varitek, Tim Wakefield, Trot Nixon, Bill Mueller, and Curt Schilling spurred much talk from the local Evangelical community that the Red Sox won because they had God on their side. Now to me, this seems crazy, because Christians also played prominent roles on teams that the Red Sox beat en route to their title. Did God value Varitek's prayers more than those of the Yankees' Andy Pettite or the Cardinals' Albert Pujols? Or, perhaps, did the Red Sox simply have more talent and a few more balls bounce their way? I tend to believe that God will help us all to perform at our best level, and to promise us His peace, but that He ultimately views the final score as trivial.      

The nature of prayer is so far beyond what I can grasp. I cannot understand why it matters whether I pray or not, yet I know that it does in fact matter. I don't know which prayers are "acceptable," and which are not. I don't know if my prayer will have any effect on an outcome, be it trivial or life-or-death. I know none of this. All I know is that it matters. Jesus told me to pray daily, so pray I will, even if I don't necessarily understand the consequences, if any, that these prayers may have.

(October 12, 2010)

Mud Pies, Brimstone, and Other Ramblings on Immortality

In November 2001--when I was in 4th grade--my aunt died after a long and painful battle with breast cancer. I was nine years old, and this was my first real encounter with the reality of death.          

My grandmother comforted me with the assurance that "Aunt Jan is so happy in heaven. She's with Jesus, and is no longer in pain. She's in perfect peace." But this did not make sense to me. My aunt was leaving behind her two young children and amazing husband. Wouldn't she miss them? And if you are missing someone, then you can't be in perfect peace. And heaven is supposed to be perfect...right?          

In my mind, my aunt entered into heaven in 2001. Her children, supposedly, would not die for another seventy years. So, that would leave her waiting seventy years in heaven before being reunited with her kids. My dad tried to explain to me that heaven does not necessarily follow the same strict rules of time and space that our Earth does, and that my Aunt and my cousins could conceivably all enter heaven together at the same time.           

This concept did not make sense to me when I was in nine, and I still can't fully grasp it. Human minds do not have the capacity to think outside our familiar universe; some ideas we will never fully understand, no matter how thoroughly we delve into them. And no idea is more complex than that of immortality.          

From the very beginning of known history, humans from all civilizations have been fascinated with death and what, if anything, comes after it. In ancient Egyptian theology, when a man died his earthly body was preserved in excruciating detail (via mummification) to ensure its readiness for the afterlife. They would store in the royal tombs expensive jewelry and other belongings that would be of use to pharaohs in the next life, even burying servants alive. Early Nordic tribes believed that, if you lived a good life, you embarked on a posthumous sea voyage to the home of the gods; if you lived a bad life, you would be sent to "hell," a cold, dreary place where you would be continuously chewed upon by a poisonous serpent; and, if you died fighting in battle, you would live forever in a land full of fighting and feasting.        

After thousands of years' worth of philosophizing and theorizing, we still have not come close to a consensus agreement on the afterlife. Muslims believe that those who die in Jihad are honored with 72 virgins after death. Hindus believe that the soul is reincarnated into other bodies numerous times. Seventh-Day Adventists and Jehovah's Witnesses believe that after death, you either are allowed into some sort of heavenly paradise or are completely annihilated. Of course, the preceding summaries are brief and incomplete, but that is because I do not want to focus on other religions' stands on immortality; Christianity and the Bible evoke enough questions as it is.          

The Bible's description of heaven is ambiguous, leaving room for imagination, interpretation, and ultimately error. I find myself hoping that it will not actually be a "paradise" with golden streets and gates of pearl, but more of an "Earth without flaw." Take the world which God created for us--the world He once called "good"--and remove all aspects of sin and fallen humanity. I want bowling alleys, playgrounds, oceans, and ski-slopes. I still want to learn more, compete in athletics, and enjoy lively conversations with my friends. Anything short of that would be boring.          

Of course, this is a naive view. C.S. Lewis compares my heavenly ideal to the complacency of "an ignorant child who wants to go on making mud pies in a slum because he cannot imagine what is meant by the offer of a holiday at the sea. We are too easily pleased." I am not capable of comprehending how wonderful heaven truly is, so I create my own terms for it, thus limiting its actual wondrousness.          

Lewis is right, but that doesn't change what I want out of heaven (Perhaps selfishly using heaven to fulfill my desires is a problem in itself). I don't want to lose my free will; I still want to choose my own words and actions. I want to remember my mom, and my future husband and children. I want the freedom to look back upon Christmas morning, or my daughter's wedding day, or any other particularly fond memory. When discussing evil, most Christians argue that evil is necessary so that there can be good in the world, too. But there's no evil in heaven, and yet there is still good. Do we lose all of our free will? Do we just become robots? I'm led to believe that we do not lose our sense of identity, and are not robots, so I have a difficult time tying together the necessity that we will never sin with the possibility of free will.          

I also wonder about the whole doctrine of "crowns with jewels." When I was younger, I used to complain to my grandma about how "Jake got candy when he swept the floor. Why didn't I get anything when I vacuumed?" And she would give me the same super-conservative Baptist answer: "Jake received his reward on earth, but you'll get an even greater reward in heaven." Even at this young age, I questioned this answer. Why do I want the crown and the jewels? Why do I want the greater mansion with more rooms? Once I'm in heaven, that won't even matter to me anymore. I will feel no envy and no regret, right? Or else I wouldn't be in perfect peace.          

I have similar questions whenever I hear the parable of Lazarus and the rich man. What bothers me is that Lazarus was able to see into hell, and thus see people he had known who were in eternal torment. To me, remembering friends and family members who were sentenced to hell would be torturous, and not much of a heaven at all. I think this passage, though, is much more of an illustration that an accurate, factual description about the reality of heaven and hell. I hope so, anyway.          

My elementary school years were influenced by ultra-conservative middle-aged followers of Bishop Usher's "A Beka Book." Absolutely certain that the creation of Earth dates back to six 24-hour days in 4004 B.C., they painted for my classmates and me a traditional picture of heaven and hell: the pearly gates, the streets of gold, and of course the agonizing fire-and-brimstone.          

That's what I always had the biggest problem with, the physical "furnace" aspect of hell. During my teen years, I've come to believe that hell could just as likely be a psychological torture, perhaps an existence completely bereft of God. Think about it--a world without anything godly or good, without acts of mercy, kindness, or charity, a world without God. Isn't that so much worse than experiencing physical pain for eternity?          

I hope it doesn't seem as though I want a torturous hell, because I don't. Not at all, actually. I admit with deep self-judgment that, after hearing about some heinous rape or murder, I think to myself, "Wow, I am so glad that there is a hell for that criminal," but I know that's a horribly selfish feeling. And it tears me apart to picture my friends spending eternity in such a place. I don't even want to think about it. It puts a nauseous feeling in my stomach. Why would God allow His beloved creations to suffer in such a way?          

I do not think that I'll ever understand the nature of life after death. Because Jesus displayed scars on his wrists and holes in his sides, it seems as though we still have our physical bodies after we die. But that raises so many questions. Cannibalism, for one, proves that we as individuals do not exclusively possess each atom that makes up our bodies. Do our resurrected bodies look as we did when we died? That does not seem like a happy scenario for sufferers of MS or Parkinson's; wouldn't they much rather have the bodies they had when they were thirty? And I don't really anticipate the bodies of infants up in heaven. If we had braces or plastic surgery, does that carry on after death? Are children with cleft chins and other deformities still built the same way? Or perhaps on a less serious note, are people still overweight? We think that everyone will have "perfect" bodies in heaven--but who are we to judge that? Standards of beauty are different in every culture and country. Is any one standard really greater than the others?    

I'm not sure we can ever know the nature of heaven or hell. The Bible gives us hints, but not nearly enough for us to build absolute theories. I don't see any problem with debating about these topics, and it's probably beneficial, but I also think that after thousands of years of human theorizing and hypothesizing, maybe it's not even possible for us to know these answers.

(October 4, 2010)

The Eternal Discrepancy

In April 2009, I embarked upon a mission to read through the entire Bible in order, from Genesis to Revelation. I grew up active in my church and attended a Christian school, and thus was familiar with most of the Biblical stories and teachings. But I wanted to read every word of every verse of every chapter of every book. A daunting task, I know--there are almost 1,200 chapters and over 31,000 verses in the Bible. After eighteen months of faithful reading, I am still not even halfway-through.
I knew that it was not going to be easy; some passages would confuse me; books like Leviticus would require a whole lot of patience; and there would be hundreds of Hebrew names that I couldn't pronounce correctly. I knew all that. I was not expecting, though, the gruesome, disturbing, horrifying accounts that are spread throughout all of Scripture, and the Old Testament in particular.      

Hosea 13:16 quotes God as saying, "Samaria is held guilty, for she has rebelled against her God, They shall fall by the sword, Their infants shall be dashed to pieces, and their women with child ripped open." How could a loving, merciful, compassionate God ever command such brutality? And what about Lot? He offered up his daughters to an angry mob outside his door, saying "Let me bring them out to you, and you can do what you like with them," and later in life drunkenly impregnated both of his daughters, but in 2 Peter 2:7 he is still referred to as a "righteous man." How is that logical?          

How would you respond if told that the Bible speaks of the happiness of one who revengefully smashes infants against rocks? Well, read Psalm 137. And what should we make of the prophet Elisha sending bears to maul irreverent youth? Or the numerous accounts in Deuteronomy and Judges which speak of the Lord's commands to completely annihilate other civilizations, killing women and children?          

I find it nearly impossible to reconcile this violent Old Testament God with the loving Father of the New Testament. It was a different time back then, a different culture--I know. But still, who is the God that we worship? Is He violent, or loving? Is He both? Can He be both?          

Sunday morning sermons, for the most part, either ignore the violent God or exonerate Him with the argument that He was acting "justly" by killing those who were disobedient. As Christians, we would much rather focus on the God who is praised in Psalm 100 because "His unfailing love continues forever, and His faithfulness continues to each generation."  We quote Proverbs, which tells us "...whoever listens to [God] will live in safety and be at ease, without fear of harm."          

But is this true? Many faithful and obedient Christians have dealt with tragedy, with sickness, death, and heartache. Psalms tells us the Lord will keep us from harm. Well, then how do we explain Hurricane Katrina or the earthquake in Haiti? It seems that we would much rather praise the Lord for healing someone affected by cancer than question Him on why it is infecting our world in the first place.          

Young children born with grotesque birth defects, and without proper medical care. Alzheimer's disease stealing the very mind from the elderly. Child pornography exposing young children and leading to sexual violence among its audience. Girls being trafficked by their own families.  And yet we are told not to worry? Our world is full of evil! How could we NOT worry?          

Philippians 4:19 says, "And my God will supply every need of yours according to his riches in glory in Christ Jesus." Honestly, He has provided for me. I am healthy and never lack available food. But what about the nearly 16,000 children who die every day from hunger-related causes? Why didn't God provide for them? Why does he allow droughts and famines, when He knows that people will die as a result? He is surely powerful enough to send down rain.          

Most Christians would argue that God is not the source of this evil. Yes, He sometimes allows it, but only because it is a necessary consequence of human free will, and He believes our reward in the end will outweigh the evil. He does not cause the evil; it is a result of our sin.          

But Isaiah 45:7 seems to contradict this belief. It quotes the Lord as saying, “I form the light, and create darkness: I make peace, and create evil: I the LORD do all these things.” This passage certainly makes it seem as if God is the source of the evil.          

However, even if He does not create evil, and it is just a result of our sin, I still don't see why it must exist. People argue that without evil, we'd just be like robots. Well then make us robots! If that is pointless, then don't create us at all! What is the point of humankind? That we can praise God? I don't mean to be disrespectful, but does that not seem a bit selfish?          

Think of it this way: if you were told right now that you could either have three kids--who would all experience immense pain and tragedy in their lives, with one ultimately reaching a place of eternal happiness and the other two a place of permanent damnation-- or you could have no kids, which would you choose? I would choose to have no children. To me, it is not worth it to sacrifice two lives in order for one person to have even greater joy.          

So to conclude, I don't know why we exist or for which reason God created us. I do know, however, that we are here, stuck in a world full of filth and horror, where we never know who to trust, and where our happy lives can change in an instant due to a car crash or a cancer diagnosis. Why is all this evil in the world? I don't know. But it is a consistent theme throughout the Bible, implying that God is far from the one-dimensional loving Father that we often portray Him to be in our Sunday sermons that conveniently skip over the tougher portions of Scripture.

(September 24, 2010)

Soft-nosed Skepticism

So, I am told that I am a "hard-nosed skeptic."    

Perhaps I am. My first reaction is usually to doubt. For example, I have an aunt who is a wonderful Christian lady who loves Jesus, but she can tell some pretty colorful stories. One time she told me about a depressed man who was planning to end his life by driving his car full-speed into the side of a brick building. But, as he was reversing his car so he would have more room to build up speed, he spotted a  three-legged dog sitting not five feet from his vehicle. He stopped the car and the dog came over. As he rolled down the window, the dog began to speak to him. Not bark, but speak in a clear, audible voice, telling the man not to end his life. The man listened, turned his car around, and went home.    

To me this story seems more than just a bit far-fetched; it seems downright cartoonish. Do I know for a fact that it is fiction? No, but until I have further evidence that it's true, I'm not buying into it. Maybe my aunt actually did know a man who was contemplating suicide. Maybe he actually did see a dog. Maybe he actually did believe that he heard the dog talk to him. But I look for a logical explanation. Because the man was suicidal, it is not unreasonable to believe that he was on drugs or medication for depression. The dog may have been an hallucination as a result of the drugs. Or perhaps internally he did not want to end his life, was looking so hard to find a reason to keep on living, and so somehow his mind created this wise, life-saving canine.      

The truth is, I just don't know. I don't know if UFOs exist, or what's the deal with crop circles, or if Big Foot is running around leaving 17-inch long footprints up in Canada. But because there is such a lack of evidence, I can't believe it is true. Same with horoscopes, palm readings, and Benny Hinn miracles. I mean, I'm a Baptist for goodness sake--we are skeptical of women speaking in church and drums used in worship services.  

This is not to say that I am totally against the idea that anything 'outside of the ordinary" could ever happen. In fact, I can't even watch scary movies because, late at night when the lights are off, I terrorize myself with thoughts of ghosts creeping around my room. I have seen reality TV shows such as "Ghostbusters" that make a fairly convincing case for "energy" in certain houses, castles, etc. On the show, they try to find logical reasons for every abnormal happening, but sometimes the evidence leads us to believe that it is more than just multiple coincidental events. Perhaps something actually is out there.  

The main reason why I believe in happenings outside of the laws of nature is that Christianity clearly preaches that there is another realm outside of our human world. Angels, demons, spirits, Satan.. all are real, active, and involved in our world. The extent of their involvement is unknown to me, but their existence is fact. Because of this, dabbling with Black Magic is very dangerous. Musicians in particular--Nine Inch Nails, Alice in Chains, Nirvana, et al.--have been known to get involved in witchcraft and satanic practices, and have been hurt or even killed from this involvement. Stories abound of people playing with Ouija boards who have been injured or died, as predicted by the game.

So yes, I suppose I am a skeptic, but only to an extent. I believe that most occurrences that people label "supernatural" are either fictional or can be realistically explained. However, I also am of the opinion that there is a supernatural world out there, and it can be extremely dangerous.  Ouija boards, tarot cards, and other "magic" should not be messed around with. Demons are real, and they can possess us. Satan is real, and he can hurt us.    

When it comes to magic tricks and UFOs, I will treat them the same way I treat Santa Claus: I think it is fun to talk and act as if they are real, but know in my brain that there is no proof for them. My belief is shallow; I only do it for fun. I believe that most things can be explained within the realms of nature, whether we are quite aware of it or not. But, once it begins to cross that line and it is no longer easy to explain logically, then it is time to back off and realize that there are forces out there that are unknown to us, and yet are strong enough to affect us in dramatic, and even life-threatening, ways.

(September 17, 2010)