Yes, it's been a while. Here are a few items of interest that have come through my news reader in recent weeks...
-Rachel Held Evans puts the phrase "The Bible clearly teaches" into some much-needed perspective.
-David Brin offers a perspective on our current political situation that I find compelling. Granted, everyone thinks their political viewpoint is the best one, but he makes some good points.
-John Shore points out the hypocrisy that biblical literalists commonly display when they voice their condemnations of homosexuality.
-And in this pair of posts, we see how evangelism conducted by those (theists and non-theists alike) with a tribalistic 'us vs. them' mentality fails to be persuasive or winsome.
Showing posts with label Doubt. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Doubt. Show all posts
Friday, January 31, 2014
Friday, January 03, 2014
Happy 2014
And in the spirit of things, here's a New Year's message from author David Brin, who articulates some things that have been rattling around in my head for a while. Among them, this:
Indeed, the lesson must be that a benign Creator -- if one exists -- clearly chose ambiguity and distance for some reason. Not as a cruel and infantile “test of faith,” but as a very clear sermon that we are supposed to stand up and look around, and figure things out for ourselves.Anathema to those who demand nothing less than absolute certainty, perhaps - but something that the rest of us can embrace, and strive to live up to.
Thursday, October 17, 2013
A Few Good Links
A few recent items from my reading (and viewing) list that were worth sharing:
-Justin Snow's Decline and Fall of the Ex-Gay Movement provides an accurate and fairly comprehensive history of the movement. While it still feels premature to announce its fall, I certainly pray that its decline is terminal as people continue to wake up to the fact that gay people are no more broken and no less valuable than everyone else.
-Nakedpastor's version of the blind men and the elephant nicely sums up how foolish we make ourselves look when we claim to have God all figured out.
-Momastery's Glennon responds to her critics, some of whom sound a lot like those blind men arguing over the nature of their elephant.
-Finally, on a lighter note, here at last is a horror movie that doesn't insult my intelligence.
-Justin Snow's Decline and Fall of the Ex-Gay Movement provides an accurate and fairly comprehensive history of the movement. While it still feels premature to announce its fall, I certainly pray that its decline is terminal as people continue to wake up to the fact that gay people are no more broken and no less valuable than everyone else.
-Nakedpastor's version of the blind men and the elephant nicely sums up how foolish we make ourselves look when we claim to have God all figured out.
-Momastery's Glennon responds to her critics, some of whom sound a lot like those blind men arguing over the nature of their elephant.
-Finally, on a lighter note, here at last is a horror movie that doesn't insult my intelligence.
Monday, August 12, 2013
Unfundamentalism
Lately I've been coming across a lot of good reading material at Unfundamentalist Christians (which I keep up with through their Facebook page. Here are a few of those items of interest:
1. A post with a few thoughts on the doctrine of "Biblical" Inerrancy. A watershed moment in my own journey was coming to the realization that this doctrine was neither biblical nor helpful.
2. This is the second time I've come across the blog Sacred Tension. This post on the tragically high cost of forcing celibacy on gay people nails the problem on the head, through individual stories that deserve to be given a fair hearing by those who make that demand. One of these days I hope to get around to writing about the compartmentalization I did in (and prior to) my ex-gay days and the ways that continues to impact my own life.
3. Finally, a quote:
1. A post with a few thoughts on the doctrine of "Biblical" Inerrancy. A watershed moment in my own journey was coming to the realization that this doctrine was neither biblical nor helpful.
2. This is the second time I've come across the blog Sacred Tension. This post on the tragically high cost of forcing celibacy on gay people nails the problem on the head, through individual stories that deserve to be given a fair hearing by those who make that demand. One of these days I hope to get around to writing about the compartmentalization I did in (and prior to) my ex-gay days and the ways that continues to impact my own life.
3. Finally, a quote:
For having lived long, I have experienced many instances of being obliged by better information, or fuller consideration, to change opinions even on important subjects, which I once thought right, but found to be otherwise. It is therefore that the older I grow, the more apt I am to doubt my own judgment, and to pay more respect to the judgment of others. Most men indeed as well as most sects in Religion, think themselves in possession of all truth, and that wherever others differ from them it is so far error…- Benjamin Franklin, Speech before the Constitutional Convention, Sept. 17, 1787, recorded by James Madison
Tuesday, July 30, 2013
Scandal
It is really shocking how little Jesus is shocked by human failure and sin. In fact, it never appears that he is upset at sinners at all. He is only and consistently upset at people who do not think they are sinners. This momentous insight puts him centuries ahead of modern psychology and right at the center of rare but authentic religion. So much so, that most Christianity itself never notices or addresses this pattern. It is an “inconvenient truth.”-Richard Rohr
What we get out of the Bible seems to say far more about us than it does about the Bible itself - the legalists find rules and punishment, the skeptics find inconsistency, the revolutionaries hear a call to arms, the compassionate see grace and mercy. But that is, perhaps, a separate topic - one that could no doubt fill volumes...
Monday, July 08, 2013
Faith
Found via Truth Wins Out, an agnostic explains why faith cannot exist without doubt - a subject near to my own heart - and why fundamentalism is therefore the antithesis of faith.
Friday, May 31, 2013
Commonality
They say it's what you make
I say it's up to fate
-Imagine Dragons, "Demons"
Growing up in a fundamentalist environment, one is conditioned to view the world in stark "us vs. them" terms. Outsiders are recognized as human beings (united primarily by our "sin natures"), but they're still viewed as fundamentally different. "Our" beliefs not only set us apart but make us superior - wiser, more virtuous, favored by God - even if it's not stated so explicitly.
As such it's an adjustment for those of us who break free from our sheltered upbringings to adapt to the fact that "the world," far from being the shadowland of murky grays and inky blackness that we were scared into avoiding, is a diverse and colorful realm populated by people who, while admittedly flawed, are far more complex and three-dimensional and alive than we ever dared imagine.
Corollary to that is the eventual realization that the fundamentalist community one came from is far less unique than its members think themselves. This is most evident in comparison to the many other religious groups (Christian, Muslim, Jewish and otherwise) throughout history that have seen themselves as uniquely favored by God (or the gods, or whatever), but the ways in which we are alike aren't limited to religious belief.
Take the New Atheists, whose adherents seek to convert others to atheism with a zeal to match that of any Christian evangelist. While their enthusiasm for making new disciples cannot be accurately described as "religious" (for obvious reasons), that is the only sense that sets them apart from their religious counterparts. Underneath, we're not really all that different.
Or take the many forms of determinism that have appeared in philosophy and theology throughout history. Fatalistic thought is not limited to the religious realm by any means. But while a Calvinist, a Sunni Muslim and a materialist might all object violently to the notion that they have anything in common (and would no doubt bristle at being described as "fatalistic"), to the extent that they believe that individuals cannot meaningfully alter their own destinies, they do have something significant in common with each other (and with millions of others throughout history).
The adage "history repeats itself" has become so overused that it's often little more than a political talking point anymore. To the fundamentalist (religious, atheist or political), failure to heed the superior wisdom of the chosen few is the primary reason that history's mistakes occur over and over. To the determinist, it's God's will, or our DNA, or the workings of Fate that prevent us from breaking those cycles.
But if history's negative cycles can be broken (a goal worth striving for, even if it turns out to be nothing more than our DNA programming us to try), perhaps our best starting point lies in acknowledging just how much we have in common, rather than in trying to set ourselves apart from the rest of the world.
I say it's up to fate
-Imagine Dragons, "Demons"
Growing up in a fundamentalist environment, one is conditioned to view the world in stark "us vs. them" terms. Outsiders are recognized as human beings (united primarily by our "sin natures"), but they're still viewed as fundamentally different. "Our" beliefs not only set us apart but make us superior - wiser, more virtuous, favored by God - even if it's not stated so explicitly.
As such it's an adjustment for those of us who break free from our sheltered upbringings to adapt to the fact that "the world," far from being the shadowland of murky grays and inky blackness that we were scared into avoiding, is a diverse and colorful realm populated by people who, while admittedly flawed, are far more complex and three-dimensional and alive than we ever dared imagine.
Corollary to that is the eventual realization that the fundamentalist community one came from is far less unique than its members think themselves. This is most evident in comparison to the many other religious groups (Christian, Muslim, Jewish and otherwise) throughout history that have seen themselves as uniquely favored by God (or the gods, or whatever), but the ways in which we are alike aren't limited to religious belief.
Take the New Atheists, whose adherents seek to convert others to atheism with a zeal to match that of any Christian evangelist. While their enthusiasm for making new disciples cannot be accurately described as "religious" (for obvious reasons), that is the only sense that sets them apart from their religious counterparts. Underneath, we're not really all that different.
Or take the many forms of determinism that have appeared in philosophy and theology throughout history. Fatalistic thought is not limited to the religious realm by any means. But while a Calvinist, a Sunni Muslim and a materialist might all object violently to the notion that they have anything in common (and would no doubt bristle at being described as "fatalistic"), to the extent that they believe that individuals cannot meaningfully alter their own destinies, they do have something significant in common with each other (and with millions of others throughout history).
The adage "history repeats itself" has become so overused that it's often little more than a political talking point anymore. To the fundamentalist (religious, atheist or political), failure to heed the superior wisdom of the chosen few is the primary reason that history's mistakes occur over and over. To the determinist, it's God's will, or our DNA, or the workings of Fate that prevent us from breaking those cycles.
But if history's negative cycles can be broken (a goal worth striving for, even if it turns out to be nothing more than our DNA programming us to try), perhaps our best starting point lies in acknowledging just how much we have in common, rather than in trying to set ourselves apart from the rest of the world.
Saturday, December 29, 2012
Mythos
Earlier this year I finally saw the 1999 film Trekkies for the first time. Despite being a lifelong Star Trek fan I'd never made an effort to see this documentary, in part because I was already familiar with the lengths that some diehard fans go to, and the laughter (not always kind) that accompanies their displays of devotion to all things Trek.
And Trekkies does introduce viewers to a number of fans whose lives revolve around Star Trek to an extreme. Despite a handful of cringeworthy moments, however, the documentary also reminded me why Star Trek has such a devoted fan base (myself included, even if I've never worn a Starfleet uniform in my everyday life or learned to speak Klingon) in the first place. Its positive vision of a future in which mankind has overcome the problems that threaten our present existence - racism, poverty, war, pollution, etc. - and joined with alien races to form a federation based on our highest ideals, has inspired hope in many who saw little reason for hope in the present-day world around them.
In addition to that reminder, the subjects of Trekkies point us toward an aspect of our humanity that sometimes gets forgotten in our age of science and rationalism: the power of myth. For too long our modern world has conflated myth with fiction and thereby reduced it to mere entertainment. Myth may not be intended to live up to the factual standards of literal history, but "real" or not it connects us with the deeper truths of human existence that aren't so easily quantified in textbooks and instruction manuals.
For some, Star Trek really is nothing more than entertainment. But for others, it's the mythology that informs their lives and shapes the lens through which they interpret the world around them. Religious or not, we humans long to be part of a greater story. On an intuitive level the modern church has never completely forgotten that; even the most ardent literalists still teach their children the stories of Moses, David, Joseph, Esther and the other great heroes of the Bible.
Where we get tripped up is in the dichotomy that modern society has created between fact and fiction. It's a necessary distinction when one is dealing with matters of science, but when we apply it to all realms of life we lose something vital. A friend of mine who attended an evangelical seminary once took a class on the writings of CS Lewis that was taught by a theology professor who had never read the Chronicles of Narnia because he adamantly refused to read fiction. Not coincidentally, this professor wasn't known for being a very interesting person when he wasn't standing behind a podium. And no doubt he finds it exasperating that so many children love Aslan more than they love the God they hear about in church on Sundays.
Christian apologetics is still a highly popular pursuit in evangelical circles. If we can just prove the Bible is literally true, the world will have no choice but to fall in line behind us - or so advocates of apologetics seem to believe. All we have to do is win the argument once and for all, and anyone who still dissents will be exposed as a fraud. Unfortunately, the stories and poems that encounter us through so much of the Bible don't readily lend themselves to this approach.
That's not to say that logic and reason have no place in theological discussions, simply that their use has been misdirected. At the end of the day, which has the greater influence on our spiritual lives - debates over the age and authorship of the book of Daniel, or the stories of courage and wisdom that become part of our own stories as we read it?
Perhaps the church would be a more Christ-like place if we worried less about being right about everything. As Rob Bell puts it, "a good story has a powerful way of rescuing us from abstract theological discussions that can tie us up in knots for years." Rediscovering the Bible as Divine myth rather than as a book of facts and rules may seem an invitation to anarchy, given how a story can mean something different to every person who hears it.
Some may even think it reduces the Christian faith to the level of a fairy tale if we cannot state with certainty that every story in the Bible is historically accurate. But perhaps the open-endedness of myth is the only way mankind can connect with the Infinite. And perhaps that same open-endedness will serve to weed out those whose quest for certainty and rules is less about that connection than it is about attempting to control God.
And maybe the Bible would once again inspire Christians as powerfully as Star Trek inspires Trekkies.
And Trekkies does introduce viewers to a number of fans whose lives revolve around Star Trek to an extreme. Despite a handful of cringeworthy moments, however, the documentary also reminded me why Star Trek has such a devoted fan base (myself included, even if I've never worn a Starfleet uniform in my everyday life or learned to speak Klingon) in the first place. Its positive vision of a future in which mankind has overcome the problems that threaten our present existence - racism, poverty, war, pollution, etc. - and joined with alien races to form a federation based on our highest ideals, has inspired hope in many who saw little reason for hope in the present-day world around them.
In addition to that reminder, the subjects of Trekkies point us toward an aspect of our humanity that sometimes gets forgotten in our age of science and rationalism: the power of myth. For too long our modern world has conflated myth with fiction and thereby reduced it to mere entertainment. Myth may not be intended to live up to the factual standards of literal history, but "real" or not it connects us with the deeper truths of human existence that aren't so easily quantified in textbooks and instruction manuals.
For some, Star Trek really is nothing more than entertainment. But for others, it's the mythology that informs their lives and shapes the lens through which they interpret the world around them. Religious or not, we humans long to be part of a greater story. On an intuitive level the modern church has never completely forgotten that; even the most ardent literalists still teach their children the stories of Moses, David, Joseph, Esther and the other great heroes of the Bible.
Where we get tripped up is in the dichotomy that modern society has created between fact and fiction. It's a necessary distinction when one is dealing with matters of science, but when we apply it to all realms of life we lose something vital. A friend of mine who attended an evangelical seminary once took a class on the writings of CS Lewis that was taught by a theology professor who had never read the Chronicles of Narnia because he adamantly refused to read fiction. Not coincidentally, this professor wasn't known for being a very interesting person when he wasn't standing behind a podium. And no doubt he finds it exasperating that so many children love Aslan more than they love the God they hear about in church on Sundays.
Christian apologetics is still a highly popular pursuit in evangelical circles. If we can just prove the Bible is literally true, the world will have no choice but to fall in line behind us - or so advocates of apologetics seem to believe. All we have to do is win the argument once and for all, and anyone who still dissents will be exposed as a fraud. Unfortunately, the stories and poems that encounter us through so much of the Bible don't readily lend themselves to this approach.
That's not to say that logic and reason have no place in theological discussions, simply that their use has been misdirected. At the end of the day, which has the greater influence on our spiritual lives - debates over the age and authorship of the book of Daniel, or the stories of courage and wisdom that become part of our own stories as we read it?
Perhaps the church would be a more Christ-like place if we worried less about being right about everything. As Rob Bell puts it, "a good story has a powerful way of rescuing us from abstract theological discussions that can tie us up in knots for years." Rediscovering the Bible as Divine myth rather than as a book of facts and rules may seem an invitation to anarchy, given how a story can mean something different to every person who hears it.
Some may even think it reduces the Christian faith to the level of a fairy tale if we cannot state with certainty that every story in the Bible is historically accurate. But perhaps the open-endedness of myth is the only way mankind can connect with the Infinite. And perhaps that same open-endedness will serve to weed out those whose quest for certainty and rules is less about that connection than it is about attempting to control God.
And maybe the Bible would once again inspire Christians as powerfully as Star Trek inspires Trekkies.
Monday, October 29, 2012
What Would It Take?
Disagreement is uncomfortable. I suspect many people feel as I do that it would be far more pleasant to live in a world where everyone agreed on everything (or at least everything of importance). In reality, though, we sometimes place too much importance on agreement. A neighbor who thoughtfully disagrees often makes a better friend than an ally who tolerates no dissent.
For that reason (among others) I've made a conscious effort to maintain contact with friends who fall on the opposite side of the fence when it comes to the issue of homosexuality. That's not always possible, given that far too many conservative Christians remain completely closed to any genuine dialogue, but when it is possible I've found it to be worth doing.
Craig Adams, who I first met through the now-defunct Bridges Across, is one such individual. Although he still holds to a Side B position, he remains open to listening to what those on Side A have to say. On his blog he recently explored the question of what it would take to convince him that he was wrong. Among other things, he points out the differences in worldview and approach to Scripture that separate the two sides and hinder meaningful dialogue. Merely arguing over the clobber passages is never going to bridge that divide, even if one side were to somehow manage to "win" the debate.
In the end he doesn't reach a conclusive answer as to what would change his mind, but I don't find that surprising. Having originally come from a Side B perspective, if anything it's even more difficult for me to envision returning to my former beliefs. Even so, it would be hypocritical of me to insist that I couldn't be wrong on this issue, however firmly I now hold to my hard-won convictions.
(For those unfamiliar with the terms Side A and Side B, link here or here.)
So what would it take to sway me? After pondering the question, here is what come to mind:
First and foremost, I would have to sense God's leading. My journey to Side A began with a deep and profound encounter with God that triggered a flood of questions that, in turn, made it impossible for me to remain where I was. Every step of the way I dragged my feet, desperately afraid of being led astray by my feelings; I resolved early on that I would not abandon Side B for the sake of indulging in what feels good, or out of anger toward the false promises I'd been fed by the ex-gay movement. And every step of the way God continued to encourage both my questions and the conclusions I was reaching.
As a fallible human being I must acknowledge that, despite the caution with which I undertook this journey, it is still possible that I have been misled by my own feelings. It's a purely academic possibility in my mind, given everything I've seen and heard over the course of the last eight years, but I still accept the importance of remaining open to new information.
I wouldn't expect God to work in my life in exactly the same way twice, but I would still expect to see evidence of a broader movement of the Holy Spirit. If Side B is correct, then adhering to a traditional sexual ethic should be good news, something positive that gay Christians can embrace rather than merely resign themselves to, and something that advances the Kingdom of God (which, as Jesus repeatedly told us, is in the here and now) by helping to make the world a better place.
By "better place" I mean better for everyone, not just for the many heterosexual Christians who have used their Side B beliefs as an excuse to make themselves more comfortable by shaming, ostracizing and casting out those who are different from them. If Side B represents the heart of God, then upholding that standard should make members of Christ's body more compassionate - not merely in the abstract "I don't want you to go to Hell" sense that too often embodies the evangelical (mis-)definition of compassion, but in the sense of moving them to want to get to know their LGBT neighbors better so that they can understand what life is really like for those they're asking to make such large sacrifices. I wouldn't expect everyone to go to the lengths that Timothy Kurek did, but that is the sort of empathy that is integral to my definition of compassion.
I don't expect the entire church to suddenly become perfect, but at the present time there still seems to be very little middle ground between those who believe God is fine with same-sex relationships and those who want all gay people to go away entirely. The majority of those who do try to bridge that gap typically end up, like me, moving over to Side A.
And for those gay Christians who do faithfully live by Side B standards, there is still far too little acceptance among those who should be their strongest champions. If God is truly the inspiration behind Side B, then a gay Christian who lives a celibate life and who feels called to ministry should be openly embraced by his or her church and viewed as eligible for any position of spiritual leadership, without being tainted by the deep suspicion that most conservatives still seem to hold for them.
Having said all of that, I do have the luxury of still being single as I ponder the above possibilities. Were I in a committed relationship, I might not be open to entertaining the idea that God could want me to abandon someone I so deeply love.
And having said all of that, even if I were somehow persuaded to return to a Side B worldview, that would not include a return to fighting against legal equality for LGBT individuals. The use of political power to impose "God's standards" on others is antithetical to the invitational message of the Gospel and, in the long run, a thoroughly self-destructive crusade. On that point I cannot, in good conscience, compromise.
I also could not return to the ex-gay doublespeak that I once twisted myself in knots trying to conform to. Whatever God's will may be for how I live my life, the fact remains that I am not heterosexual and, barring supernatural intervention, I never will be. I cannot simultaneously live a life of integrity and lie about myself just to make the heterosexual majority more comfortable.
If I really am wrong, I trust God to eventually bring me around, even if that journey doesn't end up looking the way I imagine it now. But for now, at least, I know that I'm right where I need to be, and that God is present and active there. And why would I want to be anywhere else?
For that reason (among others) I've made a conscious effort to maintain contact with friends who fall on the opposite side of the fence when it comes to the issue of homosexuality. That's not always possible, given that far too many conservative Christians remain completely closed to any genuine dialogue, but when it is possible I've found it to be worth doing.
Craig Adams, who I first met through the now-defunct Bridges Across, is one such individual. Although he still holds to a Side B position, he remains open to listening to what those on Side A have to say. On his blog he recently explored the question of what it would take to convince him that he was wrong. Among other things, he points out the differences in worldview and approach to Scripture that separate the two sides and hinder meaningful dialogue. Merely arguing over the clobber passages is never going to bridge that divide, even if one side were to somehow manage to "win" the debate.
In the end he doesn't reach a conclusive answer as to what would change his mind, but I don't find that surprising. Having originally come from a Side B perspective, if anything it's even more difficult for me to envision returning to my former beliefs. Even so, it would be hypocritical of me to insist that I couldn't be wrong on this issue, however firmly I now hold to my hard-won convictions.
(For those unfamiliar with the terms Side A and Side B, link here or here.)
So what would it take to sway me? After pondering the question, here is what come to mind:
First and foremost, I would have to sense God's leading. My journey to Side A began with a deep and profound encounter with God that triggered a flood of questions that, in turn, made it impossible for me to remain where I was. Every step of the way I dragged my feet, desperately afraid of being led astray by my feelings; I resolved early on that I would not abandon Side B for the sake of indulging in what feels good, or out of anger toward the false promises I'd been fed by the ex-gay movement. And every step of the way God continued to encourage both my questions and the conclusions I was reaching.
As a fallible human being I must acknowledge that, despite the caution with which I undertook this journey, it is still possible that I have been misled by my own feelings. It's a purely academic possibility in my mind, given everything I've seen and heard over the course of the last eight years, but I still accept the importance of remaining open to new information.
I wouldn't expect God to work in my life in exactly the same way twice, but I would still expect to see evidence of a broader movement of the Holy Spirit. If Side B is correct, then adhering to a traditional sexual ethic should be good news, something positive that gay Christians can embrace rather than merely resign themselves to, and something that advances the Kingdom of God (which, as Jesus repeatedly told us, is in the here and now) by helping to make the world a better place.
By "better place" I mean better for everyone, not just for the many heterosexual Christians who have used their Side B beliefs as an excuse to make themselves more comfortable by shaming, ostracizing and casting out those who are different from them. If Side B represents the heart of God, then upholding that standard should make members of Christ's body more compassionate - not merely in the abstract "I don't want you to go to Hell" sense that too often embodies the evangelical (mis-)definition of compassion, but in the sense of moving them to want to get to know their LGBT neighbors better so that they can understand what life is really like for those they're asking to make such large sacrifices. I wouldn't expect everyone to go to the lengths that Timothy Kurek did, but that is the sort of empathy that is integral to my definition of compassion.
I don't expect the entire church to suddenly become perfect, but at the present time there still seems to be very little middle ground between those who believe God is fine with same-sex relationships and those who want all gay people to go away entirely. The majority of those who do try to bridge that gap typically end up, like me, moving over to Side A.
And for those gay Christians who do faithfully live by Side B standards, there is still far too little acceptance among those who should be their strongest champions. If God is truly the inspiration behind Side B, then a gay Christian who lives a celibate life and who feels called to ministry should be openly embraced by his or her church and viewed as eligible for any position of spiritual leadership, without being tainted by the deep suspicion that most conservatives still seem to hold for them.
Having said all of that, I do have the luxury of still being single as I ponder the above possibilities. Were I in a committed relationship, I might not be open to entertaining the idea that God could want me to abandon someone I so deeply love.
And having said all of that, even if I were somehow persuaded to return to a Side B worldview, that would not include a return to fighting against legal equality for LGBT individuals. The use of political power to impose "God's standards" on others is antithetical to the invitational message of the Gospel and, in the long run, a thoroughly self-destructive crusade. On that point I cannot, in good conscience, compromise.
I also could not return to the ex-gay doublespeak that I once twisted myself in knots trying to conform to. Whatever God's will may be for how I live my life, the fact remains that I am not heterosexual and, barring supernatural intervention, I never will be. I cannot simultaneously live a life of integrity and lie about myself just to make the heterosexual majority more comfortable.
If I really am wrong, I trust God to eventually bring me around, even if that journey doesn't end up looking the way I imagine it now. But for now, at least, I know that I'm right where I need to be, and that God is present and active there. And why would I want to be anywhere else?
Saturday, August 04, 2012
Listening
The other day as I was stopped in heavy traffic on Colorado Boulevard (hardly an uncommon situation, as any Denverite with a car can attest), I witnessed something unusual. The driver behind me began maneuvering his large Jeep over the curb until its left tires were atop the narrow median. What did he think that was going to accomplish, I wondered – even if there wasn’t a street sign between him and the turn lane several cars ahead, he’d have to drive on the other side of the road to reach it. The silly things people do when they get impatient, I thought.
A few moments later, though, I heard the siren. An ambulance was coming up behind us, and the Jeep's driver was trying to get out of its way. As it was, the ambulance had to go around us on the other side of the road (which was clear at the moment); with so many cars stopped at a red light with no room to move, it wouldn’t have mattered if I (and the drivers ahead of me) had managed to get up onto that curb. Still, the guy in the Jeep, far from being a basket case, was trying to do what might have been the right thing under slightly different circumstances.
The application is clear enough, even if my illustration seems relatively trivial: Be quick to listen and slow to judge (even with *those* people – in fact, especially with *those* people); the person you’re looking down on might just see something that you don’t. Before you dismiss someone as a sinner (or idiot, or wingnut, or whatever), it pays to be certain that you really do know what you’re talking about.
A few moments later, though, I heard the siren. An ambulance was coming up behind us, and the Jeep's driver was trying to get out of its way. As it was, the ambulance had to go around us on the other side of the road (which was clear at the moment); with so many cars stopped at a red light with no room to move, it wouldn’t have mattered if I (and the drivers ahead of me) had managed to get up onto that curb. Still, the guy in the Jeep, far from being a basket case, was trying to do what might have been the right thing under slightly different circumstances.
The application is clear enough, even if my illustration seems relatively trivial: Be quick to listen and slow to judge (even with *those* people – in fact, especially with *those* people); the person you’re looking down on might just see something that you don’t. Before you dismiss someone as a sinner (or idiot, or wingnut, or whatever), it pays to be certain that you really do know what you’re talking about.
Thursday, June 21, 2012
Food For Thought
The history of theology (Christian or otherwise) is the history of people desperately trying to fit the way things actually are into the way their holy books say they should be. (Think of the billions of words written in tens of thousands of books on religion "explaining" pain and suffering in the light of God's purported goodness.) So some people do what Mom [Edith Schaeffer] did: spend a lot of time making excuses for The-God-Of-The-Bible. Others contrive their theology to make it seem more enlightened than it is: Roman Catholic medieval dogma is rechristened as "Natural Law," Creationism is rebaptized as "Intelligent Design," Islam calls the oppression of women the "protection of women," and so forth.-Frank Schaeffer, Sex, Mom & God
There is another choice: To admit that the best of any religious tradition depends on the choices its adherents make on how to live despite what their holy books "say," not because of them. "But where would that leave me?" my former self would have asked. "I'd be adrift in an ocean of uncertainty." Yes, and perhaps that's the only honest place to be. Another name for uncertainty is humility. No one ever blew up a mosque, church, or abortion clinic after yelling, "I could be wrong."
At the very least, those of us who believe that the Bible is something more than just another book need to be willing to admit that we (and every other Christian who has ever lived) pick and choose which parts of the Bible to emphasize and which to downplay (or even ignore) when formulating our theology. And that, therefore, we could be wrong about a great many things even if we're right about the Bible's unique significance.
Saturday, February 25, 2012
Pendulum
On a few occasions I've come across comments by writers musing over the fact that the Christian church has a tendency to swing back and forth between liberalism and conservatism, permissivism and legalism, never finding a middle ground that can satisfy both. It's a dilemma I've pondered myself more than once. Theology is neither as static nor as consistently progressive as most would like it to be.
Perhaps the most dramatic example of this in modern times is the rise of American fundamentalism. The term 'fundamentalist' was originally coined in the early 20th century by those who wanted to reassert a relatively simple list of doctrines they considered to be fundamentals of the Christian faith, in response to the theological liberalism that had swept most of the mainline denominations in the late 19th century. It was a conservative movement, but a fairly straightforward call for doctrinal reform at the start.
By the 1920s, however, the fundamentalist movement had been taken over by the extreme legalists we now associate with the term. Fundamentalists became reactionaries who vocally condemned science as well as nearly every aspect of American society, advocating cultural isolationism and rigid codes of conduct. Evangelicals have since tried to extricate themselves from this portion of their history, with varying degrees of success. At present, the evangelical movement appears to be veering toward open schism between those that have thoroughly repudiated fundamentalism and those that have merely sanded down its rougher edges.
Even within the last half a century numerous movements have risen (and in some cases run their course and faded away again) within the Christian church, each one reacting to whatever trends preceded it. And so it's gone throughout church history, which is rife with schisms, heretic hunts, heated debates and even literal wars. No matter how reasonable the cause, we never seem to find that elusive center.
But what if in all of that we've missed the point? What if the real problem isn't heresy, but our driving need to be right? Don't get me wrong - at the end of the day we have to be able to reach conclusions on at least some matters, or else we'd be left with nothing but chaos and paralysis. But when the subject at hand is the Creator of everything, a being who exists beyond time and space and above dimensions we can only abstractly apprehend in complex mathematical models, how could it be anything other than the ultimate in hubris to claim that we could ever have such a One all figured out?
Perhaps the center eludes us, because in infinity there is no center. If we are all created in the image of God, perhaps every one of us is needed so that we can add our own unique reflection to the larger picture we're trying to create (and even then, it would be a picture that told only part of a far greater story). Acknowledging that doesn't have to mean that we think all forms of religious expression are equally valid; one need look no further than Fred Phelps or Osama Bin Laden to see the limits of such an absolute relativism.
Taking the humble stance that we need to learn from those outside of our own belief system may seem like a sellout - and it does require that we surrender our right to be right. But for those who are truly confident in their beliefs, it costs nothing of real value to admit the limits of one's own knowledge by humbly listening to other perspectives. It costs very little, but the potential rewards are vast.
The real danger lies in insisting that we have all the right answers, and need no further input. By doing so we devalue others who bear God's image by dismissing everything they have learned and experienced that we don't personally agree with, and by placing greater value on ideas and dogma than we do on people.
For those of us who believe that the Bible was in some manner inspired by the Infinite that we most commonly nickname God, the challenge is to rediscover that even a book so inspired is still finite and not to be conflated with the God it points to. By using the Bible as our starting point for learning more about God - as the foundation for that building rather than the entire structure - we open ourselves to discovering the wonders of a universe that's far larger than we dared imagine it could ever be.
Perhaps the most dramatic example of this in modern times is the rise of American fundamentalism. The term 'fundamentalist' was originally coined in the early 20th century by those who wanted to reassert a relatively simple list of doctrines they considered to be fundamentals of the Christian faith, in response to the theological liberalism that had swept most of the mainline denominations in the late 19th century. It was a conservative movement, but a fairly straightforward call for doctrinal reform at the start.
By the 1920s, however, the fundamentalist movement had been taken over by the extreme legalists we now associate with the term. Fundamentalists became reactionaries who vocally condemned science as well as nearly every aspect of American society, advocating cultural isolationism and rigid codes of conduct. Evangelicals have since tried to extricate themselves from this portion of their history, with varying degrees of success. At present, the evangelical movement appears to be veering toward open schism between those that have thoroughly repudiated fundamentalism and those that have merely sanded down its rougher edges.
Even within the last half a century numerous movements have risen (and in some cases run their course and faded away again) within the Christian church, each one reacting to whatever trends preceded it. And so it's gone throughout church history, which is rife with schisms, heretic hunts, heated debates and even literal wars. No matter how reasonable the cause, we never seem to find that elusive center.
But what if in all of that we've missed the point? What if the real problem isn't heresy, but our driving need to be right? Don't get me wrong - at the end of the day we have to be able to reach conclusions on at least some matters, or else we'd be left with nothing but chaos and paralysis. But when the subject at hand is the Creator of everything, a being who exists beyond time and space and above dimensions we can only abstractly apprehend in complex mathematical models, how could it be anything other than the ultimate in hubris to claim that we could ever have such a One all figured out?
Perhaps the center eludes us, because in infinity there is no center. If we are all created in the image of God, perhaps every one of us is needed so that we can add our own unique reflection to the larger picture we're trying to create (and even then, it would be a picture that told only part of a far greater story). Acknowledging that doesn't have to mean that we think all forms of religious expression are equally valid; one need look no further than Fred Phelps or Osama Bin Laden to see the limits of such an absolute relativism.
Taking the humble stance that we need to learn from those outside of our own belief system may seem like a sellout - and it does require that we surrender our right to be right. But for those who are truly confident in their beliefs, it costs nothing of real value to admit the limits of one's own knowledge by humbly listening to other perspectives. It costs very little, but the potential rewards are vast.
The real danger lies in insisting that we have all the right answers, and need no further input. By doing so we devalue others who bear God's image by dismissing everything they have learned and experienced that we don't personally agree with, and by placing greater value on ideas and dogma than we do on people.
For those of us who believe that the Bible was in some manner inspired by the Infinite that we most commonly nickname God, the challenge is to rediscover that even a book so inspired is still finite and not to be conflated with the God it points to. By using the Bible as our starting point for learning more about God - as the foundation for that building rather than the entire structure - we open ourselves to discovering the wonders of a universe that's far larger than we dared imagine it could ever be.
Wednesday, February 15, 2012
Mystery
I have visited the tip of Argentina, the region named Tierra del Fuego ("land of fire") by Magellan's explorers, who noticed fires burning on shore. The natives tending the fires, however, paid no attention to the great ships as they sailed through the straits. Later, they explained that they had considered the ships an apparition, so different were they from anything seen before. They lacked the experience, even the imagination, to decode evidence passing right before their eyes.-Philip Yancey, Rumors of Another World (pages 17-18)
And we who built the skyscrapers in New York, who build today not just galleons but space stations and Hubble telescopes that peer to the very edge of the universe, what about us? What are we missing? What do we not see, for lack of imagination or faith?
Saturday, February 04, 2012
Links
It's been a busy week in the blogosphere - not here, perhaps, but elsewhere. Here are a few pieces that resonated with me...
1. Rachel Held Evans slides down the slippery slope, and discovers a far different destination than the one she'd been told she was headed toward.
2. Speaking of different destinations, a former Exodus leader finds change and freedom - just not the change and freedom Exodus likes to proclaim.
3. Tired of people who use the world "biblical" to shut down debate over their agendas? So am I, and so is this guy. (Hat tip to Craig)
4. Finally, if this post describes your evangelism style, please reconsider...
1. Rachel Held Evans slides down the slippery slope, and discovers a far different destination than the one she'd been told she was headed toward.
2. Speaking of different destinations, a former Exodus leader finds change and freedom - just not the change and freedom Exodus likes to proclaim.
3. Tired of people who use the world "biblical" to shut down debate over their agendas? So am I, and so is this guy. (Hat tip to Craig)
4. Finally, if this post describes your evangelism style, please reconsider...
Friday, December 02, 2011
Life Soundtrack 28
Mysterious Ways, by Kim Hill
One of my favorite songs back in the mid-90s, and a reminder that even in my days as a card-carrying evangelical I allowed myself the luxury of admitting that I didn't have it all figured out. Only on certain topics, of course, and even then I ran the risk of getting funny looks from some of my peers - but intellectual honesty and conservative religion don't always have to be mutually exclusive...
Wednesday, November 23, 2011
A Complicated Life
I haven't commented on movies as often as I could, but watching J. Edgar last weekend moved me to rectify that. Whatever else you may think of the movie (and the man in question), it's one that sticks in your mind for a while afterward.
Whatever else the filmmakers got right or wrong about Hoover, who's simultaneously one of the most significant and most controversial figures of 20th century American history, they did us the service of offering a nuanced take on his life. While he doesn't deserve the pedestal that some conservatives have placed him on, in my opinion, neither was he the slavering demon that the left often casts him as. As with most things in this life, the truth lies somewhere in between.
Social conservatives no doubt hate the movie for running with the longstanding rumor that Hoover and his right-hand man, Clyde Tolson, were closeted gay men and something more than friends. On the other end, there may be some who think their relationship as portrayed in the movie was unrealistically chaste. I personally found it very believable, knowing from my own experience what it's like to be that deeply repressed, and also far more powerful than simply giving them a secret sex life.
Does J. Edgar deserve an Oscar? I'm not enough of a film connoisseur to offer a convincing argument either way. But the movie kept me engaged for two and a half hours, which has got to count for something.
Whatever else the filmmakers got right or wrong about Hoover, who's simultaneously one of the most significant and most controversial figures of 20th century American history, they did us the service of offering a nuanced take on his life. While he doesn't deserve the pedestal that some conservatives have placed him on, in my opinion, neither was he the slavering demon that the left often casts him as. As with most things in this life, the truth lies somewhere in between.
Social conservatives no doubt hate the movie for running with the longstanding rumor that Hoover and his right-hand man, Clyde Tolson, were closeted gay men and something more than friends. On the other end, there may be some who think their relationship as portrayed in the movie was unrealistically chaste. I personally found it very believable, knowing from my own experience what it's like to be that deeply repressed, and also far more powerful than simply giving them a secret sex life.
Does J. Edgar deserve an Oscar? I'm not enough of a film connoisseur to offer a convincing argument either way. But the movie kept me engaged for two and a half hours, which has got to count for something.
Thursday, March 17, 2011
Upside Down
"As the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways and my thoughts than your thoughts." - Isaiah 55:9
"For the foolishness of God is wiser than man's wisdom, and the weakness of God is stronger than man's strength." - 1 Cor. 1:25
"Although they claimed to be wise, they became fools." - Romans 1:22
In these and many other passages, the biblical authors remind us of the limits of our own intellects and of our need for God in all things. Although these verses often use nonbelievers as object lessons, it would be a dire mistake for Christians to view them as cause to look down on those who don't share our beliefs (as Romans 2:1 vividly reminds us). If nothing else, the countless disputes that have occurred over the millennia over every conceivable point of doctrine should remind us how prone we still are toward error and short-sightedness.
How sad is it, then, when we conscript verses meant to call us to humility into the service of our pride by using them as weapons to silence those who disagree with us. How tragic the irony, when reminders of our own fallibilty are used instead to bolster our faith in the infallibility of our doctrinal positions. Instead of engaging in meaningful conversation with those who disagree with us and humbly considering evidence that may contradict our interpretations of God's will, we close our ears to all of those voices, attributing anything we don't want to hear to the machinations of the devil.
At the same time we demand submission from everyone around us, and cry "persecution!" when they refuse. Our self-inflicted isolation further reinforces our belief in the absolute rightness of our own dogmas, and distracts us from noticing our hearts growing cold as our own certainty replaces God as the focus of our devotion. In time we become the very nonbelievers we think we look down upon, all the while believing ourselves to be wise.
"For the foolishness of God is wiser than man's wisdom, and the weakness of God is stronger than man's strength." - 1 Cor. 1:25
"Although they claimed to be wise, they became fools." - Romans 1:22
In these and many other passages, the biblical authors remind us of the limits of our own intellects and of our need for God in all things. Although these verses often use nonbelievers as object lessons, it would be a dire mistake for Christians to view them as cause to look down on those who don't share our beliefs (as Romans 2:1 vividly reminds us). If nothing else, the countless disputes that have occurred over the millennia over every conceivable point of doctrine should remind us how prone we still are toward error and short-sightedness.
How sad is it, then, when we conscript verses meant to call us to humility into the service of our pride by using them as weapons to silence those who disagree with us. How tragic the irony, when reminders of our own fallibilty are used instead to bolster our faith in the infallibility of our doctrinal positions. Instead of engaging in meaningful conversation with those who disagree with us and humbly considering evidence that may contradict our interpretations of God's will, we close our ears to all of those voices, attributing anything we don't want to hear to the machinations of the devil.
At the same time we demand submission from everyone around us, and cry "persecution!" when they refuse. Our self-inflicted isolation further reinforces our belief in the absolute rightness of our own dogmas, and distracts us from noticing our hearts growing cold as our own certainty replaces God as the focus of our devotion. In time we become the very nonbelievers we think we look down upon, all the while believing ourselves to be wise.
Monday, January 10, 2011
Quoted
"Love has a critical trust in the changeability of the enemy, and a permanent distrust of the certainty of its own position."
-quoted by Philip Yancey at the GCN conference
(I can't recall the source of the quote, unfortunately.)
Friday, November 12, 2010
Caution
A thoughtful piece on the value of doubt, a topic I've explored more than once. It's all the more timely in the wake of the recent election and the biennial spectacle of true believers on both sides of the aisle touting, with absolute conviction, the pure goodness of their candidates and the sheer evil of their opponents (I exaggerate, but only slightly).
I find my own political convictions run along lines similar to those outlined by the author - with the added caveat that the corrupting nature of power should be remembered and highlighted whenever somebody (of any political persuasion) proposes to wield large amounts of it for our benefit...
I find my own political convictions run along lines similar to those outlined by the author - with the added caveat that the corrupting nature of power should be remembered and highlighted whenever somebody (of any political persuasion) proposes to wield large amounts of it for our benefit...
Thursday, June 03, 2010
Blind Spots
The most difficult subjects can be explained to the most slow witted man if he has not formed any idea of them already; but the simplest thing cannot be made clear to the most intelligent man if he is firmly persuaded that he knows already, without a shadow of doubt, what is laid before him.-Leo Tolstoy, The Kingdom of God Is Within You
Tolstoy's observation likely garners a hearty "Amen!" from just about everyone who comes across it; we can all think of people who simply refuse to acknowledge any facts that contradict what they have already decided must be true. Many of us could no doubt brainstorm a long list of ways in which the above applies to most of the evangelicals we have known. Those evangelicals, in turn, would probably present us with a similarly lengthy list.
Left or right, libertarian or socialist, Christian or atheist, and so on - it's simply human nature for us to reach conclusions on certain issues and then consider the matter settled. Even those who have moved beyond Stage Three in their personal development need to guard against short-sightedness. The best any of us can do is honestly acknowledge our own limitations and strive to remain open to new information, all the while extending the same grace to our opponents that we hope to receive when we are proven wrong.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)