Religion of Mass Distraction

Read Brian McLaren's new column "Religion of Mass DIstraction" on Belief.net

The Art of Scripture

It has been many months since I have posted any original essays here. I could make the excuse that I’ve been too busy to write, or that I can’t think of anything to write about. The truth is that like most people, I have had the time to do pretty much whatever I choose, but have chosen to spend it in other ways. As for having topics to write about, there is an abundance of thought running through my mind each day, and I have imagined a hundred blogs in the months that have passed. So why haven’t I written?

If I were to answer that question honestly, I would have to say that I’ve been avoiding the inevitable. My recent philosophical and spiritual journeys have carried me far beyond the familiar territory of the evangelical Christian village where I have lived most of my life. As I’ve pondered the sights along the way, and stopped in awe to take in the unfamiliar, expansive landscapes, I’ve come to understand the richness and diversity of the human experience in the vastness of time and place. Mind you, this does not diminish the significance of my tiny village, my place of origin. Rather, it establishes the context of my former habitat, and reveals to me the larger canvas upon which is painted the masterpiece of human existence. I have become aware of my own myopia, and the dramatic change in perspective requires time for the eyes to adjust. And so for the last several months, my focus has been in flux as I have awaited a moment of clarity. These moments are coming now as night and fog give way to new vistas and overlooks.

So what is inevitable about this? Well with changing perspectives come changing beliefs. And it is inevitable that new ways of thinking will at some point either fortify or raze former building blocks of thought. Without the benefit of the larger context, the myopic view of truth may seem sufficient, and may be all that is required to be a faithful citizen of one’s village. But with the larger canvas in view, old assumptions inevitably must be examined in light of new information and evidence. Previous assumptions based on universal truths will prove to be useful in the larger context. Assumptions which thrive on narrower view, to the exclusion of the larger canvas, may be shown to be less meaningful or relevant than previously believed. One example of this which has been on my mind of late is the nature and role of scripture.

With few exceptions, the circle of people with whom I have closely associated for the past 35 years would describe themselves as evangelical, or “born again” Christians. This particular worldview has been a persistent thread running through my life. Among the non-negotiable doctrines of the evangelical Christian church is a view of the Christian scriptures, the Bible, as the literal, inspired, inerrant word of God. Many, many books have been written examining this treatise, and I have no intention of either supporting nor critiquing this central idea. I’m simply not qualified. The truth is, however, that something like 30% of American evangelicals believe in some variety of biblical literal inerrancy, and they do so despite overwhelming evidence that their view of the origin and context of scripture bears little resemblance to its true origin and context. Far from being a neatly bound, annotated, gilded-edged, harmonized love letter from God, the Christian scriptures are a not-so neat, often ambiguous, rough-around-the-edges, often self contradictory collection of writings which have survived nearly two millennia in the hands of various human beings, all of whom had an agenda in mind, however magnanimous. To be sure, it is a beautiful, inspiring, and often transformative work. To me, the prevalent literal, reductionist view of scripture does harm to the bible and degrades its value. I find it much more useful to view the Bible as art. And this requires one to take a less myopic view, to take a few steps back and view the canvas as a whole.

Consider for a moment an art professor in a college art class. His fifteen young students are sitting at the perimeter of the studio. At the center of the studio, atop a low platform, reclines a model lightly draped in white satin. Now each person reading this will have already formed a picture of this scene in their mind. Some may have envisioned a dark, beautiful nude female form, others a statuesque, modestly attired greek-god type. In any case, the students in the studio have the benefit of actually seeing the model there in front of them, and they have been charged with interpreting this form through whatever media they wish. Now it can be said with some certainty that this is not the first class to view the model and artistically interpret it. In fact, this prestigious university may have held similar art studio sessions two centuries prior, with students gathered around a model, brush in hand. It is a true statement that each student’s interpretation of the very model they see in front of them will be different than every other student’s work. In fact, it would be safe to say that the work of this class as a whole will be very different than the work of a similar class of students two centuries ago. Why? We intuitively understand the answer: each student is painting in the context of their own experience, bias, and worldview. If the model is a nude woman, some students will take liberty to paint the naughty bits a bit more modestly. Others will paint the figure more true to form, or their work will be more impressionist or abstract. It is safe to say that none of the paintings will render the model with the same true, honest result that a photograph would, nor should they.

So why is this the case? Could it be that the artists work is not intended to render with the exact duplication of a photograph? Wouldn’t the artist wish to put some of himself into his work, to allow the viewer some space to experience the work through their own interpretation? And more importantly, is the painting less valid as a representation of the subject than a photograph would be?

It is clear to me that if God inspired scripture, he used artists, not photographers, to create the picture. The Bible consists of sixty six writings by forty authors over a period of 1,500 years. And yet apologists for biblical inerrancy and literalism will offer any explanation, no matter how ill-supported, to insist on their assertion that we are looking at a photograph rather than an ancient human interpretation, however inspired. All of the artists of scripture were influenced by their context: their drive for ethnic or religious survival, their deeply held values and ethics, and their own personal or cultural world view. Do these influences invalidate the value of the scriptures? To the contrary. For me, the diversity of viewpoints, of vistas found within scripture only serves to enrich the value of these sacred works. The literalists’ reduction of all scripture to direct, God-breathed tenets at best creates a wealth of contextual conundrums, and at worst calls into question the nature of a God who would dictate such a book. It’s safer to assume that God, such that he exists, alone is inerrant, and any human effort to describe that reality will naturally fall short of that highest status. Yet these descriptions, human as they are, still provide a spectacular view and tell us much about the human condition and humankind’s aspirations to become something greater that we are or ever have been.

As Robert Price wrote in his book The Reason Driven Life, “An ambiguous, inerrant scripture is no better than an errant one”. This is to say that a literal, inerrant interpretation of the bible creates ambiguities and conflicts which are unnecessary, and which do the Bible a great injustice. This is as if an art critic, intent on learning everything he could about the aforementioned model, set forth to reduce the students’ art work to their barest elements. He would analyze the paint chips, learn everything about each artist, and attempt to “harmonize” the differences between each piece in an attempt to establish a composite picture which accurately describes the subject in photographic detail. This is an absurdity, since each piece was intended to interpret the subject on its own merit. And yet this is exactly how scripture has been treated by literal reductionists ever since the reformation began.

And so my journey continues. I’m relieved to find that what I thought was a map for my journey is instead an inspiring, insightful travel guide. I’ve learned that the map is the territory, and a rich and awe-inspiring territory it is.

Welcome to Doomsday

Native Forest Council: News: "There are times when what we journalists see and intend to write about dispassionately sends a shiver down the spine, shaking us from our neutrality. This has been happening to me frequently of late as one story after another drives home the fact that the delusional is no longer marginal but has come in from the fringe to influence the seats of power. We are witnessing today a coupling of ideology and theology that threatens our ability to meet the growing ecological crisis. Theology asserts propositions that need not be proven true, while ideologues hold stoutly to a world view despite being contradicted by what is generally accepted as reality. The combination can make it impossible for a democracy to fashion real-world solutions to otherwise intractable challenges. " Read the Article

Where's a good ringtone when you need one?

I snapped this photo near Mozart's memorial statue in Vienna, Austria in March 2005. While it's humorously anachronistic, I can't help but think Mozart would have been a techno-junkie if he had lived in our time. And I'm sure he would have had a terrific blog. :-)

Mercy

When the priests and the priests' priests have closed ranks,
And their flocks and their flocks' flocks have tendered thanks,
Will the unchosen find themselves bereft of hope, of light
Because, unwashed, they dared seek solace in the night?
If so, pray instruct me Lord, what say the Godly's God
To those who soulfully implore He spare the rod?

--Parkbench

An Irish Blessing

May those who love us love us
And those that don't love us,
May God turn their hearts.
And if He doesn't turn their hearts,
May he turn their ankles,
So we'll know them by their limping.

Happy St. Patty's Day to All

The Ethics of Parousia

15 For this we declare to you by a word from the Lord, that we who are alive, who are left until the coming of the Lord, will not precede those who have fallen asleep. 16 For the Lord himself will descend from heaven with a cry of command, with the voice of an archangel, and with the sound of the trumpet of God. And the dead in Christ will rise first. 17 Then we who are alive, who are left, will be caught up together with them in the clouds to meet the Lord in the air, and so we will always be with the Lord. 18 Therefore encourage one another with these words.

- Paul's First Letter to the Thessalonians 4:15-18

In Christianity, Parousia means the (Second) Coming of Christ. In the Greek language parousia means "appearance and subsequent presence with" and in the ancient Greco-Roman world it referred to official visits by royalty. It was appropriated by Christians as a specialized term for Jesus' glorious appearance and subsequent presence on earth—primarily his final return at the end of the world (see Wikipedia).

Paul's special revelation regarding the dramatic return of Christ must have been startling to the church at Thessolonica. Although it appears his point in this statement was to provide reassurances for the survivors of those who had died in their faith prior to Christ's return, Paul's parousia provided a glimpse into the apocalyptic worldview that would later be picked up by John as he recorded his spectacular vision in the book of Revelation. There is little doubt that Paul's words were influenced by the words of Jesus himself in referring to his later return, just as John's vision was influenced by (and indeed, lifted word-for-word from) the Old Testament prophets. These eschatological worldviews merged in the early church and carried into the christian era the persistent theme of a conquering messiah whose mission is to purge the world of unbelievers upon his victorious return.

This morning, I sat through the fifth or sixth sermon in a series derived from Paul's first letter to the Thessalonians. The last two messages have focused on the parousia, and these sermons mirrored in many ways the message of a 12-sermon series on the apocalypse which was delivered last summer. I have lately found myself squirming uncomfortably during any message on this topic, a response which in my earlier life would have been attributed to the promptings of the Holy Spirit. What is absent from that equation, however, is a sense that I am somehow on the wrong side of the fence on this issue.

I have long taken exception to many of the eschatological views embraced by the American evangelical church. I can't speak knowledgeably about the church worldwide, or about the orthodox church in general, but the evangelical church in America seems to have codified the anticipated events of the "last days" in a way that trumps reason, stretches the imagination, and extends its hand far beyond the ethical boundaries of today's world. If I had to put a single face on this particular world view (and there are many to choose from) it would be that of Tim LaHaye, author of the Left Behind series of books, videos, and (unbelievably) video games. Dr. LaHaye has successfully capitalized on the apocalyptic world view in much the same way that Hal Lindsay, author of The Late, Great Planet Earth, did in the 1970's. LaHaye's tactics have employed a masterful fear-based marketing scheme, and he undoubtedly owes much of his success, directly or indirectly, to the current war on terror. The events centering around the middle east serve to bolster the claims that Christ's return is at hand: A righteous, Christian nation facing the evil of terrorism abroad; Israel fighting for its very survival against surrounding enemy nations; the occupancy of Jerusalem and the temple by Muslim forces; the increasing globalization of governments and economies; the potential for nuclear annihilation. All the cards are falling into place, and Christ's return is imminent. Or is it?

For a moment, let's assume that the LaHayean vision, appending that of Jesus, Paul, and John, is accurate. What does this mean for Christian believers, and for the world at large? Paul refers to "we who are alive, who are left" as the ones who will be privileged to meet Him in the air. What happens to the rest of the people, under this view, is well described by John in Revelation. To be succinct, God destroys them. All of them. They receive the same fate as the "deceiver", Satan, the "father of lies" who is cast into the lake of fire. Of course, this is only after being inexorably tortured through plague, tribulation, and general madness and mayhem on earth. This, of course, is good for "we who are alive, who are left". It is not so good for those that are not "we". So the question becomes, who are "we", and what is the criteria for inclusion in the "we" group, and its subsequent escape into paradise?

And so we are faced with a truly ethical dilemma. Christ's return is imminent, at which time billions of souls will face cruel torture and eternal damnation by a furious God. Some of us will escape, and others won't. The criteria for escaping the madness consists of "believing" in some way, ostensibly by associating with others who share a common world view. I can't speak for anyone else, but the scenario seems to be inextricably obtuse and generally irreducible. Belief in anything, after all, is really just a particular way of thinking about something to the extent that it will move you to action. As a result, no small part of the criteria for escaping this holocaust depends on what (or how) a person thinks, and with whom they associate. Granted, how a person truly believes will impact how they behave toward other human beings. But it's generally accepted in the evangelical church that a person is saved by grace (belief) alone and not by works (behavior). And so we're really back to a system of evangelism that moves people to respond out of fear, believe in a certain way, and associate with a certain group of like-minded people. All of this, of course, is based on criteria which can be neither known nor measured, but upon which hangs their eternal fate. This I would call a nightmare scenario.

The truth be known, many religions, including Islam, share an apocalyptic world view as recorded in their holy books. One would be wise to observe that the LaHayean version is no less vindictive than the ultimate return of Allah to take final vengeance upon all infidels. What is truly frightening is that their particular apocalyptic vision has moved beyond the "belief" stage, and is well into the "action" stage. Acquisition of nuclear weapons may be all that is needed for Allah to fulfill his prophecies.

What makes me squirm during those sermons is the sense that the church has missed something big here. Our focus on the "Left Behind" fantasies drains resources, creates fear, and causes the church to urgently move people toward "belief" which, in many cases, has little impact upon their ability or willingness to truly impact the world today, here and now.

I'm not really sure what Parousia means, or what it means to say that Christ will return. I know I struggle with Paul's and John's statements in the context of the modern world. I am sure, though, that one of the roles for me as a Christian is to become a truly ethical person: that is to spend my remaining days increasing the joy and abating the suffering of those people whom God brings into my life. Fear does nothing to incubate true ethics, and a false sense of urgency does even less.

The End of the Spear

"Ladies and gentlemen, tonight's winner in the category 'Well, what did you expect?' goes to...The End of the Spear....."

I've made a nearly full reversal in my taste of motion pictures in the past several years. Once an avid fan of action-packed, blow-em-up thrillers, bazaar dark comedies, and over the top science fiction films, my tastes have mellowed, matured even, into a preference for more slow-moving, deeply meaningful human dramas of all types. My tolerance for violence in movies is almost at an end, perhaps largely because I have seen the impact of a lifetime of unbridled violence pumped into the eyes and ears of my teenage sons. It's like a switch was thrown in my head that said "enough!".

So I have found myself feeling abandoned, really, by the American film industry. In my way of thinking, the movies I really care to see are few and far between. I want a movie to speak something new and fresh; I don't necessarily need to agree with the movie in theme or subject, but I don't enjoy it unless it resonates with some truth about life that I have never thought about before. These are the movies that I will wait for.

I was happy when the lights dimmed in our church service this past Sunday and a preview for the new film "The End of the Spear" was presented. Being a church in the pietistic / holiness tradition (that is, historically opposed to cinema and other forms of secular entertainment), promotion of film is rare, particularly during worship time. The only other occasion I can recall is when Mel Gibson's "The Passion of the Christ" was being promoted. At any rate, Spear looked intriguing because it appeared to have the qualities that would catch my attention. From what I can tell, the film is the story of a missionary to the Amazon who is killed by tribal natives along with four colleagues. Years later, the missionary’s son returns to the forests and encounters his father’s killer, learning about forgiveness, grace, and acceptance of people who he found to be very different than himself. It is said that the producer of the film is himself a Christian, and that he produced this film with the intent of marketing a mainstream film with a message that would appeal largely to evangelicals. And he would have been right about that last part, were it not for one, small, incorrect assumption.

The Christian workplace where I currently serve was abuzz with excitement about this film. The email bulletin boards were full of messages from people looking for tickets to opening night. Everyone was excited, and I heard many positive reports about the film, it’s strong positive message, and how it was a great contribution to the mainstream entertainment industry. Then the bomb dropped. It seems that someone remembered that the lead actor, Chad Allen, came out in Advocate magazine in 2001 and is openly gay. What was really startling was the uproar this created among evangelicals. It would seem that "gay" is rock while "grace" is mere scissors.

Now lest I begin receiving “love mail” from Christians accusing me of siding with the “gay agenda”, I will first say that I have no intention of arguing here whether an openly gay actor should or should not be “allowed” to work on a film with a overtly Christian theme. The question I really want to ask is, what did the evangelical community expect? Evangelicalism and the entertainment industry have always made strange bedfellows (consider, for example, the 700 Club and the Left Behind series of novels), so it should come as no surprise that not everyone working to produce the film shares in the values portrayed in the film. Why is homosexuality the litmus test for measuring the actor’s worth? I would venture to guess that if Mr. Allen were in fact a straight, albeit promiscuous unmarried man, there would not have been the first whisper about his morality or suitability to play the lead role. Since when does the church hold actors to a higher standard than presidents and priests?

I have vowed never to use the “H” word in my essays, so I will attribute the Christian community’s reaction about Chad Allen to a sort of collective insanity. I once heard it said that a sign of insanity is doing the same thing over and over, while expecting a different result each time. It’s disheartening, and none too ironic, to consider that people who have personally experienced God’s grace and forgiveness in their lives would so quickly turn on a filmmaker for including a “sinner” in his cast. American evangelicals recognize as much as anyone how the film industry can be uplifting and glorious while at the same time ugly and decadent. This is the nature of the industry. To boycott or disparage this film because of Chad Allen’s involvement is disingenuous and sends the wrong message to so many people who are looking to the Christian faith for acceptance and encouragement. Christians have gotten into bed with the film industry fully cognizant of how such things work, and then balk at the result as if surprised.

In protest to the Christian community’s bickering over this film, I’m taking my family to see Brokeback Mountain this weekend. At least both of the lead actors in that film are straight.

A Generation Rejected

I was twice saddened this morning as I attended my church service. Each year on the anniversary of the 1973 Roe V. Wade decision, our church chooses to recognize the loss of a generation of children by solemnly marching people bearing a single rose across the platform, starting with those born in 1973 and progressing to a mother carrying the newest born baby, who drops the last rose in a bassinet. The purpose of this demonstration is to bring to our awareness the “human face” represented by the loss of 40 million children in our nation since 1973. This alone is heartbreaking.

As I pondered this loss, I began to consider the rhetoric in which people on both sides of this issue have engaged. I thought about the litmus test that is now applied to Supreme Court nominees (have we forgotten the No Religious Test clause?); the insistence by the right that Roe v. Wade be overturned; the left’s view of all who consider life sacred to be bigots, or worse, enemies of freedom. And I thought about the 40 million mothers and their families who faced a crisis in their lives and chose the only solution they felt was available to them. And I have just one question: where was the church?

I don't mean this as an indictment of the church, and I mean no disrespect to the thousands of Americans who have fought the good fight in defense of the unborn since 1973. But it is only to say that from the perspective of the average person who watches the evening news, much more energy is expended by opponents of abortion in political activism and national "dialog" than in doing the hard work of immersing themselves in the lives of the marginalized to the extent that they can be agents of change as these difficult decisions are being made. As the groundswell of abortion has gained momentum, have Christians and others who consider life sacred matched this momentum with their counter-momentum of compassion? Or have we accomplish little more than heaping guilt upon the souls of these broken-hearted mothers, while at the same time pouring millions of dollars and hours into fighting political causes? Here's a wake up call: Roe v. wade will likely never be overturned as is hoped by many, and if it were, the church is in no way ready for the crisis that would ensue.

As I have read the gospels in the New Testament, I have never encountered a challenge from Jesus of Nazareth to engage political powers of the day in order to accomplish social change. Jesus and his contemporaries had much more to protest than do Americans. The tyrannical rule of the Roman emporor and his puppet "kings"; the absolute suppression of all dissent and execution of dissenters; crushing taxation carried out by unscrupulous collectors who pocketed fortunes for themselves; and the total absence of political, personal, and religious freedom. Why didn't Jesus speak against these social injustices? Why didn't he organize political action campaigns and raise funds from his followers in order to fight such tyranny? The answer is clear in the gospels: such is not the Kingdom of God. There is little doubt that his followers expected Jesus to advocate political insurrection and social liberation, but such was not his calling and purpose; neither is it ours. Instead, amazingly, Jesus' followers watched as he immersed himself in the lives of the marginalized and disenfranchised. This ministry was spoken of by the prophet Isaiah, who said of Christ:

The Spirit of the Sovereign LORD is on me, because the LORD has anointed me to preach good news to the poor. He has sent me to bind up the brokenhearted, to proclaim freedom for the captives and release from darkness for the prisoners.

Jesus was totally invested in all those who surrounded him, and influenced them in a way that liberated them in the midst of their seemingly hopeless lives. Such is the Kindgom of God.

And so the question remains: what is the role of the Church in the present conflict, and what of the crisis that would ensue if Roe v. Wade were reversed? As for the latter, consider this: for the past fifteen years or so, between 1.3 million and 1.5 million children have lost their lives each year through abortion. During the 1990's, about 120,000 children were adopted each year, or something less than 10% of the children whose lives were ended prior to birth. Even at this rate, a 1997 survey found that 6 in 10 Americans have had a personal experience with adoption (see adoption.com). A reversal of Roe v. Wade, apart from the political firestorm which would continue for decades, would undoubtedly increase tenfold or more the need for compassionate and selfless people willing to care for a rejected generation. Almost every family in America would be impacted. Have we invested our time and resources into the existing adoption infrastructure and counseling services such that this influx would constitue anything less than an unprecedented and unmitigated human and social crisis? Are we demonstrating a committment to mentor our nation's youth, and guide them toward abstinence and healthy relationships such that the need for abortion would be a relic of the past? It would not be overreaching to suggest that the current human and financial resources expended in the fight against abortion are grossly misplaced, and all social support mechanisms (including the church) would be overwhelmed if a reversal were successful.

As for the role of the Church, it is clear. Set aside everything which would hinder compassionate, unfettered ministry to the thousands of women and their families each day who face the worst of all decisions. Support every organization, regardless of affiliation, which will join the cause in providing real choice to these victims of our culture. Mentor our youth and help them see a higher path, and provide them with everything they need to make the right decisions for their lives. Stop sending mixed "moral" messages or supporting those who do. And most importantly, come to know the true spirit of Christ, and administer grace as he would have us administer it. No judgement; no condemnation of wrong; no rejection of those we think have sinned.

The current state of affairs on the pro-life / pro-choice front is tragic. Christians and other people of faith have a responsiblity to care for the wounded and set the captives free, not to continue to wage war. Let's defend the lives of the living as well as the unborn, and preach the good news to the poor: that there is a better choice.

Skeptical Faith Part 1

The majority of my blog readers (two to be exact) recently contacted me to ask what has become of my blog. Honestly, I was embarassed to return to my site, wipe off the thick layer of dust, and discover that it's almost been a year since my last post. I read with some amusement my last post, "Unintelligent Deception", and realized with some discomfiture that it read much like an Ann Coulter* column wannabe, penned by a Pat Robertson intern. OK I admit, it wasn't that bad, but I reviewed it with considerable curiosity, suddenly very aware of how much my views have ... ummm... evolved in the past year. Never lacking introspection, I've pondered these personal changes many times in the past months. Am I losing my faith? Am I what many in my christian denomonation would call a "backsilider"? I can say with some faith (no pun intended) that the answer is no. Far from losing my faith, I've developed a skeptical faith.

Faith is not blind. Faith is not shackled by ignorance. To the contrary, the apostle Paul stated in his letter to the Hebrews:

Now faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen. (Heb 11:1 KJV)

As I was growing up, this passage was often used to say that when we need to believe something badly enough; when we can't find or understand an explanation, faith substitutes for evidence, for substance. Of course, this would work well in the absence of any evidence which contradicts traditionally held beliefs. But what is a Christian's response when overwhelming evidence does contradict these traditions?

The recent national discourse on Intelligent Design, if I may revisit my earlier topic, presents one such challenge to the Christian creation tradition. Darwin notwithstanding, in earlier days, before geological and genetic evidence surfaced to challenge the traditional view, Christians posessed a certain legitimacy in attributing creation and human origins to the realm of pauline "faith". Indeed, the body of knowledge at the time offered little substance or scientific evidence, and so faith became the evidence of what people knew to be true.

Evidence, though, has a pesky way of tugging on the twine that holds together the neat parcel of the earlier creation traditions. Evidence first of an exceedingly old earth, and then of an observed progression in the development of species began an erosion in the popular Christian view of young earth with its specially created species, "each after their own kind" (Gen 1:12). The twentieth century brought cosmological discovery of an even more ancient universe, and realization of the unfathomable complexity of life contained in the DNA lifecode. It would seem that the earlier "faith" employed by so many previous generations is in danger from such overwhelming contradictory evidence. That is, of course, if one mistakes faith for fantasy.

I have since come to read Paul's definition of faith to be one of humility, and not of arrogance. Faith requires the faithful to accept that "(God's) ways are not your ways" (Is. 55:8). Evidence contradicting my traditional beliefs does not challenge my faith, it frees my faith. Having evidence to explain a little bit more of the mystery of creation provides the substance that my mind needs to understand a little more about God. My faith is liberated, answered in a manner of speaking; freed to help me move on to the next great mystery of an eternal God.

C.S. Lewis once wrote:

We must not encourage in ourselves or others any tendency to work up a subjective state which, if we succeeded, we should describe as "faith"... The state of mind which desperate desire working on a strong imagination can manufacture is not faith in the Christian sense. It is a feat of psychological gymnastics.

I'm thankful to be released from my psychological gymnastics. I am grateful to have a mind which is blessed with the capacity to understand an iota more about the wonders of Creator.

Powerlessness

After a being stewed in self pity and anxiousness in life’s crock pot this past week, I find myself savoring my existence in a fresh way tonight. I can’t say anything has really changed; my anxieties are still stacked on my desk at work, hanging from the blueprint racks, and heaped in the hard drives and in-boxes of my computer. My home continues to suffer from a profound lack of order, and I still lack the impetus to take any action to order my world (although I can find the mental energy to conduct hours of mental interrogation with others in my household, indicting them for sloth while absolving myself of the same). I hear the same cacophony that accompanies teenage sons, the same chaotic flurry that I experience almost every moment I live in this house. And yet on this night, I am experiencing a renewed, refreshing peace in the midst of my otherwise mundane domestic existence.

I have become powerless.

My twelve-year-old, Dan, has a friend here tonight. His name is Mikey, and he is an unassuming boy, small for his age and, from every observation, introverted. I reached this conclusion when I met him tonight and did my usual gag of getting his name wrong every time I spoke to him.

“So, Ricky, how do you like the sixth grade?”

Dan rolls his eyes. Mikey isn’t sure if I know his name, but is too polite to correct my conscious error.

“Mitch, it’s time to come downstairs and eat”

More orbs shifting upward. More confused silence from our young guest. I’m sure now that he either thinks I’m a nutjob, or is quietly un-amused.

One thing I have observed though: Dan and Mikey shared our “bonus room” (our family room over the garage), and yet were each engaged in their own activities, Mikey on the PC (watching JibJab flash videos over and over on the internet), and Dan on the Xbox. I encouraged them to turn off the screens and do something fun together. Resistant, blank stares provided only the briefest respite from their digital coma.

Now, two hours later, I’m watching them as they delightfully interact. Fifteen minutes hip-to-hip on the piano, sometimes playing the same song, sometimes not. For a moment, they play Beethoven: Mikey playing the Fifth in the lower register, Dan playing Fur Elise in the upper. It’s surprisingly harmonic. Now its on to some unidentifiable, polyrhythmic dance number, and then on to the great duet stand-by “Heart and Soul”, complete with knuckle solo.

Then it’s off to sword battles, accompanied by exquisitely chatty narratives of fantasy and dragons. They’re both talking at the same time. Floorboards creak; some unknowable item crashes to the floor. It’s off to a card game now, and then to a puzzle. Back to the swords, then on to scrabble (they call it “scabble” because, they say, they can’t find the “R’s”)

This remarkable resurrection of the CRT zombies was spontaneous, and delightful to behold. They, too, have become powerless.

Mike, my sixteen-year-old, although not visited this evening by the teenage angst which often takes residence in whatever room he occupies, still did not wander far from the television or Gamecube. Right now, he’s off to Walmart to buy some high-bulk food (“gotta gain six ponds by tomorrow, Dad….I need to wrestle at 119 ‘cause I think I can take that kid tomorrow”). He also took (GASP) his OWN MONEY to fill up his tank. Maybe he’ll stop by Blockbuster to get that video. This flurry of activity outside our humble domicile is not typical of Mike. But then again, he too has become powerless.

My lovely wife, Diane, went upstairs some time ago to put our bedroom in order. She emerged just now, accompanied by Dan and Herbie (errr...I mean Mikey) with black Glad bags full of clothes for good will. I would help her, but I’ve suddenly felt the return of contentment in my life during this brief moment, and finally found the inspiration to post my first full blog entry. Life is good when you’re powerless.

The electric company says the power may not come back on until midnight. They can leave it off until Monday for all I care – I’m just glad to have my family back.