Monday with Frederick Buechner “Where Our Best Dreams Come From”
Somebody appears on your front stoop speaking your name, say, and you go down to open the door to see what’s up. Sometimes while it’s still raining, the sun comes out from behind the clouds, and suddenly, arching against the gray sky, there is a rainbow, which people stop doing whatever they’re doing to look at. They lay down their fishing nets, their tax forms, their bridge hands, their golf clubs, their newspapers to gaze at the sky because what is happening up there is so marvelous they can’t help themselves. Something like that, I think, is the way those twelve men Matthew names were called to become a church, plus Mary, Martha, Joanna, and all the other women and men who one way or another became part of it too. One way or another Christ called them. That’s how it happened. They saw the marvel of him arch across the grayness of things — the grayness of their own lives, perhaps, of life itself. They heard his voice calling their names. And they went.
They seem to have gone right on working at pretty much whatever they’d been working at before, which means that he didn’t so much call them out of their ordinary lives as he called them out of believing that ordinary life is ordinary. He called them to see that no matter how ordinary it may seem to us as we live it, life is extraordinary. “The Kingdom of God is at hand” is the way he put it to them, and the way he told them to put it to others. Life even at its most monotonous and backbreaking and heart-numbing has the Kingdom buried in it the way a field has treasures buried in it, he said. The Kingdom of God is as close to us as some precious keepsake we’ve been looking for for years, which is lying just in the next room under the rug all but crying out to us to come find it. If we only had eyes to see and ears to hear and wits to understand, we would know that the Kingdom of God in the sense of holiness, goodness, beauty is as close as breathing and is crying out to be born both within ourselves and within the world; we would know that the Kingdom of God is what we all of us hunger for above all other things even when we don’t know its name or realize that it’s what we’re starving to death for. The Kingdom of God is where our best dreams come from and our truest prayers. We glimpse it at those moments when we find ourselves being better than we are and wiser than we know. We catch sight of it when at some moment of crisis a strength seems to come to us that is greater than our own strength. The Kingdom of God is where we belong. It is home, and whether we realize it or not, I think we are all of us homesick for it.
You don’t write catechisms. Or Systematic Theologies. Or critiques of someone’s theology or refutations of their catechism.
You don’t have a blog.
You don’t moderate debates.
You are the bread of life who gives himself for the salvation of the world. You are the one mediator between God and man. You are the bridegroom who loves his bride. You’re raising all of us like Lazurus. You’re healing all of us, casting demons out of all of us, calling all of us out of the un-real into the real.
The community that matters to you isn’t sitting behind some church sign. It’s not running around with some ridiculous label.
You aren’t submitting yourself to the teams built by men for their games with one another.
Jesus, you love the world. And you love those who are in fellowship with you. Not more or even in a different way than you love other persons, but only in a way that can be enjoyed and celebrated by all of us who are feasting at the same table.
You don’t have a database of membership. You don’t have 20 questions for me to answer. You are standing there before me, and your love is inviting me inviting me inviting me over and over and enabling me enabling me enabling me over and over. You’re taking me from where I’ve wandered, throwing me on your shoulders and beginning again. And again. And again. With all of us.
Jesus, you’re making crazy demands about trusting the Father. You’re saying ridiculous things about money and forgiveness. Jesus, you’re asking me to do things that are impossible.
You want me to trust you with the people I want to control. You’ve taken my prayers to change things and handed them back to me as the opportunity to let you love persons you love far, far more than I can imagine in ways I could never approach. Trusting you, by the way, is very difficult sometimes, but you never do quit asking, do you?
I’d rather theologize. I’d rather debate and score points.
I’d rather take care of me, do things my way and refer to you as my sponsor. I want you to be the god who makes my life work out; the god who makes my relationships “work.” You are the God who loves me, and loves all the people I pretend to love, with a love that’s overwhelming.
You want me to live my life in you. Not just quote the verse, but jump into the deep end of the pool with you there to catch me. You want me out of the boat, with you on the water. You want me to believe that you will never leave me or forsake me.
You want me. You’re very fond of me.
This kind of simplicity is very frightening. You are taking too much away. You are replacing it all with yourself.
Jesus, I need you a thousand ways. I can’t list them all, but I feel them, one by one by one, taking hold of me and pulling me away from you. I want that to end, and I want to hand all of my life to you, freely, in childlike trust and joy.
My emotions are following my perceptions and my perceptions are following my paradigm. I need you to take over all of it. All of it.
Jesus, you said you are the way, the truth and the life…and I told people I believed it. I didn’t believe it very much. I think I lie about these things a lot. But I want you to be the way, the truth and the life.
I’m afraid for it all to come down to just the two of us, but that’s the way it is, isn’t it? It’s the moment we all hear you, feel your gaze, realize you have singled us out for the Kingdom….but everything else must go: parents, wife, children, family, reputation, houses, lands, applause, security, health, normality. All of it goes, and you want the entire bet placed on you.
Lord Jesus Christ, Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world, have mercy on me.
I am a Jackson Pollock painting these days. Life and death have been splashing all over me and the result is an indecipherable hodgepodge of an inner landscape.
To be honest, I love Pollock’s work and a lot of other artists who painted in the form of Abstract Expressionism. This art reminds us that the world and life is not always represented by definable forms that can be described in propositional language. Life is mysterious. Life appears random. Patterns and purpose are not always discernible. God is silent; we fear God is absent. We welcome the occasional surprise. The Abstract Expressionist artist painted by means of spontaneous motion, randomly dripping, splashing, and smearing art onto a canvas. It was about the journey as much as it was about any destination, about epiphanic manifestations not calculated designs.
I find a transcendent beauty in much of Jackson Pollock’s color work, but there was a period where the artist abandoned the drip style and color and tried a new approach. In 1950 he began to create his series of “Black Pourings.” Don Nash describes the method:
Pollock began his black paintings by pouring black Duco paint, which he thinned with turpentine, directly onto a blank canvas. The canvas was soft, unlike a primed canvas which is firm, so when the black paint was applied, it blurred (as when a photograph is enlarged and lines appear frayed).
According to his wife Lee Krasner Pollock, her husband’s painting tools were sticks, basting syringes, and old brushes that had become stiff.
Other artists loved these monochromatic paintings, but they were a complete commercial failure. An angry and discouraged Pollock, from that point, descended into a spiral of depression and drinking, which ended with his death in an auto accident in 1956. It was as if these bleak artworks foretold his own personal future.
I am not spiraling, but man it feels grim sometimes.
It’s one foot in front of the other. Sleep. Eat. Work. Do what needs to be done. It’s May but spring still seems a long time coming. The world’s a pretty monochromatic place these days, to my point of view. My soul’s been soaking it up like Jackson Pollock’s blank canvasses.
I just keep telling myself: Embrace the life impulse. Side with the seeds. Howl at the moon.
•
Tires type black Where the blacktop cracks Weeds spark through Dark green enough to be blue When the mysteries we believe in Aren’t dreamed enough to be true Some side with the leaves Some side with the seeds
•
On the wind the wolves are howling She cries they’re drawin’ near Turn around, turn around my darling Oh, the wolves are here
Everything’s so great, can’t get better, makes me wanna cry That I’ll go out howling at the moon tonight Yeah I’ll go out howling at the moon tonight
Is There Purpose in Biology? The Cost of Existence and the God of Love. By Denis Alexander,
Chapter 4: Biology, Randomness, Chance and Purpose (Part 1)
We are reviewing the book: Is There Purpose in Biology? The Cost of Existence and the God of Love. By Denis Alexander. Chapter 4: Biology, Randomness, Chance and Purpose is up for today. Right out of the gate, Denis opens with a quote from Richard Dawkins in the preface to his book, The Blind Watchmaker:
Take, for instance, the issue of “chance”, often dramatized as blind chance. The great majority of people that attack Darwinism leap with almost unseemly eagerness to the mistaken idea that there is nothing other than random chance in it. Since living complexity embodies the very antithesis of chance, if you think that Darwinism is tantamount to chance you’ll obviously find it easy to refute Darwinism! One of my tasks will be to destroy this eagerly believed myth that Darwinism is a theory of “chance”.
It’s been my experience, in discussions about evolution with Christians, that they are shocked the arch-atheist himself would say such a thing. Why? Because Christians regularly misrepresent chance and probability in critiquing evolution. From Michael Denton (Denton, Evolution: A Theory in Crisis, p. 342.):
“Is it really credible that random processes could have constructed a reality, the smallest element of which—a functional protein or gene—is complex beyond our own creative capacities, a reality which is the very antithesis of chance, which excels in every sense anything produced by the intelligence of man?”
“When there is more than one possible outcome and the outcome is not predetermined, probability can become a factor. In the case of evolution there is no pre-assigned chemical arrangement of amino acids to form a protein. Therefore, the formation of a biological protein is based on random chance.”
So the first thing Alexander, to his credit, does in this chapter is define his terms. In daily, common, speech, the word “random” is often used to mean:
Without order
Without cause
Uncertain
Without purpose
So naturally, especially using the last definition, if someone claims “evolution is a random process”, well, then it becomes purposeless by circular definition. But in this chapter Denis focuses on the mathematic and scientific understanding of “random”. In mathematics, randomness has a fairly clear meaning, although with some nuances and conditions. Mathematicians typically use the word “random” to describe processes in which multiple outcomes can occur and each is associated with a probability that gives the likelihood of that outcome. A coin toss, for example, is random in the sense that either heads or tails is an outcome and the probability of either one is 50% (or on a scale from 0 to 1 it is 0.5).
So if a string of numbers, let’s say 1-100, is random, then any single number has an equal probability of being selected. A traditional statistical approach, such as a Runs Test or Geary Test, then examines the series to see whether they display the property of randomness. A numeric sequence is said to be statistically random when it contains no recognizable patterns or regularities; sequences such as the results of an ideal dice roll or the digits of π exhibit statistical randomness.
Brownian Motion
Random processes are all around us, although when averaged together, they lead to physical properties that are highly predictable and can be described by laws. “Brownian Motion” described by Robert Brown in 1827 referred to the jiggling motion of pollen grains and chalk dust when suspended in water, due to the random motion of the water molecules. The same kind of random motion also applies to the atoms and molecules that comprise all liquids and gases. Boyle’s gas law – the pressure of a gas increases as its volume decreases, which some may remember from high school science class – depends on averaging out the random movements of trillions of gas molecules. No need to calculate the movement of each molecule separately – it is the average properties of very large numbers that count.
Alexander notes the various meanings of the word “chance” are even more slippery than the word “random”. He notes the following examples:
“Is there any chance you can come for dinner tomorrow?” (possible availability)
“There is a chance it might rain this afternoon and interrupt the match.” (event that depends on chaos theory)
“I met William down at the shops today by chance.” (unexpected encounter)
“I’m buying a ticket for the lottery even though I know my chances of winning are low.” (statistical improbability)
“My chances of getting a first in Finals are really low.” (insufficient preparation)
Alexander assigns three main meanings of “chance” relevant to the present topic, broadly speaking:
The first is sometimes called epistemological chance because it refers to all those events that are perfectly lawlike in how they happen, but about which we have insufficient knowledge of their antecedents to make predictions. If we knew all the antecedents involved, an incredibly complex amount of complex information that we will never know, it would be possible, in principle, to predict the outcome.
The lawlike behavior in epistemological chance is also useful because it allows precise predictions to be made about the properties of large numbers of chance events. Insurance actuarial data is the prime example of this. I might not know when I’m going to die, but life insurance companies can calculate the aggregate of the data that allows a profitable premium to be charged despite the ignorance of any particular premium-holder’s date of expiration.
The second main type of chance we can call ontological chance, because there are no antecedents that could possibly be known that could enable a prediction, even in principle.
The classic example of ontological chance is radioactive decay. Nobody knows, given our current level of knowledge, when or why any one particular radioisotope will emit a particle of radiation energy at one moment rather than another. But again, the law of large numbers allows us to precisely calculate an accurate half-life of any radioisotope so we can accurately determine the time since that radioisotope was formed into a mineral. Ontological chance stems from quantum mechanics and the principle of quantum indeterminacy. A notable consequence of quantum indeterminism is the Heisenberg uncertainty principle, which prevents the simultaneous accurate measurement of all a particle’s properties.
Heisenberg’s uncertainty principle, is any of a variety of mathematical inequalities asserting a fundamental limit to the precision with which certain pairs of physical properties of a particle, known as complementary variables, such as position and momentum, can be known simultaneously. It is now known that the uncertainty principle is inherent in the properties of all wave-like systems, and that it arises in quantum mechanics simply due to the matter wave nature of all quantum objects. The uncertainty principle actually states a fundamental property of quantum systems and is not a statement about the observational success of current technology, as was once thought. Einstein hated the idea, famously claiming that “God doesn’t play dice” – which prompted Niels Bohr to respond, “Stop telling God what to do”, a wry statement on the empirical data that was verifying the principle.
The third type of chance we might call metaphysical chance. This is the idea that chance somehow rules over everything, almost as if it were an agency or metaphysical principle.
This aspect of chance seems to me to almost resemble the Fates, the three sister goddesses that appeared in Greek and Roman mythology and were believed to have “spun out” a child’s destiny at birth. They determined when life began, when it ended, and everything in between. Consider this quote, with respect to genetic mutations, from Monod’s book, Chance and Necessity, 1997, p. 110:
We say that these events are accidental, due to chance. And since they constitute the only possible source of modifications in the genetic text, itself the sole repository of the organism’s hereditary structures, it necessarily follows that chance alone is at the source of every innovation, of all creation in the biosphere. Pure chance, absolutely free but blind, at the very root of the stupendous edifice of evolution: this central concept of modern biology is no longer one among other possible or even conceivable hypothesis. It is, today, the sole conceivable hypothesis, the only one compatible with observed and tested fact. And nothing warrants the supposition (or the hope) that conceptions about this should, or ever could, be revised.
Except, of course, the scientific conclusions on the role of chance have indeed been massively revised by the more recent scientific advances. And Monod wasn’t the first, and won’t be last, scientist to wildly extrapolate from currently understood properties to conclusion that lie well beyond science, and are really metaphysical conclusions. As Alexander says:
“Suffice it to say that Chance is not an agency and doesn’t “do” anything. Chance is simply our way of describing our own position as observers in relation to various properties of matter, no more and no less. Despite this obvious fact, it is remarkable how often the language of “Chance as agent” creeps into otherwise sober scientific and philosophical texts.”
The last term Alexander defines, before he discusses these terms and their relation to evolution, is “chaos”. In the common parlance “chaos” is used to mean “without order” i.e. traffic today was absolute chaos because of the president’s visit. The technical meaning of the term “chaos” is quite different. Chaos theory is particularly associated with the American mathematician Edward Lorenz (1917-2008).
In 1960 Lorenz created a weather-model on his computer at the Massachusetts Institute of Technology. Lorentz’ weather model consisted of an extensive array of complex formulas, some even hoped that Lorentz had built the ultimate weather-predictor and if the input parameters were chosen identical to those of the real weather, it could mimic earth’s atmosphere and be turned into a precise prediction model. But Lorenz discovered that even changing the sixth decimal place in one of the variable could dramatically change the outcome. In other words, tiny differences in the starting conditions could make a major difference in the weather patterns several weeks later. This became known as “the butterfly effect” – a butterfly flaps its wings in Brazil then it can impact the weather pattern in Texas some weeks later. So basically, the “chaos” in Chaos Theory means:
A tiny difference in initial parameters will result in a completely different behavior of a complex system.
The Uncertainty Principle prohibits accuracy. Therefore, the initial situation of a complex system cannot be accurately determined, and the evolution of a complex system can therefore not be accurately predicted.
Next week, we will delve into how Alexander uses these terms when he is speaking about evolutionary biology and why he does not believe Darwinian evolution is a theory of chance. I will be interested to see if our astute commentators this week can predict what Denis will say based on these definition of terms.
[As you consider your final walk home,] I’m sure you have some fears of your own. While we walk together, if you would like to share your fears, anxieties, and doubts and tell me that the idea of going through this final season of life and walking through death’s door keeps you up at night, I can relate. If it would help you to say that the prospect of leaving this world and saying goodbye to your family and all that is familiar twists your insides up in knots making it hard for you to breathe, that you’ve been too afraid to even talk about this with anyone else, I understand and would be happy to listen .
As I’ve talked with others about this, I have found it is important to clarify just exactly what you are afraid of. Many folks just know they feel fear, but haven’t identified what’s causing them to feel that way. It can help to know that, because you may find that comfort and help is closer than you think. So let me start. Maybe if I can tell you some of my fears with regard to death and the process of dying, it can help you discover the source of your own anxieties.
I am afraid of losing control. This guy doesn’t like the idea of other people having to take care of him. I have always tried to be a giver and to help others. That has been my vocation, and to think of switching roles so that I’m the care-receiver rather than the caregiver is uncomfortable to me. It’s embarrassing, humbling. I don’t like the thought of it and probably won’t like the reality either.
I am afraid of the unknown. I have taught the Bible my whole adult life and have a pretty good idea of what it says about the afterlife. But I’ve never been there, have you? No matter how much reassurance my faith, the Bible, the Church, and other Christians give me, the fact remains that death involves a step into unfamiliar territory, and I’m leery of that.
I am afraid of leaving my family and I am anxious about what will happen to them. Yes, I realize I am not indispensable, they will be fine and God will take care of them. But I will miss them and will miss being an integral part of their lives. Perhaps this goes along with losing control, but I like to think I have a hand in the well being of my family. When I’m gone, who will fulfill that role?
I am afraid of pain and suffering. This is one of those fears that has actually lessened since I’ve worked for hospice, for I have seen the remarkable advances in pain and symptom management that are now common in end of life care. I tell my patients that it is extremely rare when we will be unable to help someone feel comfortable at the end of life. Nevertheless, I can be kind of a wimp when it comes to pain, and this fear lurks in the back of my mind.
I am afraid of becoming a dithering, drooling, babbling idiot. I fear losing my mind. I fear dementia, senility. I fear doing and saying things when I have no idea what’s taking place. I fear making my family blush and being the legendary old codger that folks will tell stories about for years. I once made a pastoral visit to one of the dearest, gentlest, kindest Christian women I’ve ever known after she’d had a stroke. I doubt she had ever said a cross or crude word in her life. She looked at me and said, “I’m so glad I can still realize what I’m saying. I have always been afraid that one day I’ll lose my mind and start going around cussing!” I worry that my fate will be much worse, that I will become the exasperating crazy old man who can’t be controlled and who embarrasses himself every day.
I am afraid of missing out on life. There is so much I love in life, so many special events yet to take place in the lives of those I love, so many interesting developments to come in the world that I would love to see happen. If I die, there will still be so many places I won’t get to travel, so many people I’ll miss out on meeting. And besides, the Chicago Cubs have to win a World Series at some point, don’t they? If I miss out on that, I’m going to be very upset.
I am afraid of being a burden on my family and others. Not only am I concerned about what will happen to my loved ones after I am gone, but I am deeply concerned that the process of my death will be an exhausting, debilitating experience for them.
I am afraid of being forgotten. Think of all the people who have died since the world began. Think of all the cemeteries you have seen over the course of your life. Think of how many obituaries have been written, how many eulogies spoken, how many graves dug and funeral pyres built around the world and throughout time. Now realize that the vast majority of those people simply sank into the dust of history, remembered by few, honored and celebrated by even fewer. Even the names on the tombstones eventually get worn away by the wind and weather. That thought saddens me so much that I feel a deep existential dread when I let myself ponder it.
Have I touched on any of your fears about death or the process of dying?
Note from CM: We continue to go through an extraordinary season of loss — I can’t remember one in my personal experience quite like it. Last week we learned that our good friend, my college roommate and best man in my wedding, died suddenly. I did a funeral for a friend’s mom on Saturday and will do another one this Friday. We heard the news about our friend Rachel Held Evans. Last night we received an email about a friend from church who died while on a trip to California. I’ll be attending the memorial service Thursday for Marge Cornwell, David’s wife who died recently. Here is a reminder that there are no rules about dealing with loss like this. With God’s help and the love of those around us, we simply keep going.
• • •
Make the Way by Walking
My friend, I have good news for you: you don’t have to “do grief right.” In our culture, we expect people to follow a certain path in the wake of a loss. I’m here to tell you: there is no defined path. Just be yourself, keep walking, and you will make a way.
You may be introverted, drawing strength from solitude. Or, as an extrovert, you may find help being with others. Some people need to sleep while others need to stay busy. Talking about it may help or hinder. Some read everything they can find to answer the questions that haunt them. Others want to simply forget. There is no “right” way.
Furthermore, you don’t have to come up with a “reason” or “purpose” for your loss. The plain fact is, there might not be one, at least one any of us will ever know.
You are not required to smile and say things are alright. You need not put on a positive front in order to “be strong” for others. “Falling apart” is normal. Give yourself permission.
You don’t have to always try to balance your sad feelings with positive ones. Your tears honor the immense importance of your loss. If it hurts, it hurts.
On the other hand, don’t feel guilty if you have a good day or want to do something fun. Even in a season of grief, there are ups as well as downs. It’s okay to still enjoy life’s blessings, to laugh, to lighten things up.
And perhaps you are one of those people who rarely cries and is not demonstrative about your feelings. Don’t let people pressure you into feeling bad about that. If you simply prefer to deal with your loss privately and process your thoughts and feelings more stoically or analytically because that is your personality, that’s okay.
There are some people who seem to handle pain, loss, and grief without much trouble. It doesn’t necessarily mean they are stronger or, on the other hand, in denial or unfeeling. Somehow, they can just absorb the blow and keep going. If that’s you, do it — keep going. Don’t allow people to question your lack of tears or outward expressions of grief. A sad face shouldn’t be required any more than a happy face. Just be yourself, you don’t have to explain it to anyone. You probably wouldn’t know how to explain it anyway. This whole life thing is pretty much a mystery, isn’t it?
If you are a person of faith, don’t automatically imagine that God will “speak” to you about your loss or give you a vision or a word that will explain it to you.
Don’t assume that, through your loss, God is giving you a “message” to share with others. Some of us are activist types, always looking for ways to help other people. But don’t jump to that, thinking that’s what “God wants” and what unselfish “faith” automatically does. Grief is not about that, it’s about you — your loss, your pain, your darkness. It is not “selfish” to focus on yourself. Grief means you have received a serious wound. There is a time to tend wounds.
“God-talk” can mean well, but it can also ramp up the pressure to “do grief right” and be “heroic” at a time when you need to heal. Church can be hard too. But if you find yourself dreading or avoiding it, don’t think you’re losing your faith. To be honest, congregations are often not good contexts in which healing can take place. I wish it weren’t so.
It’s okay to hurt, to cry, to fall apart, to withdraw, to get depressed, to be angry, to struggle within yourself and with God and others, to rage against the senselessness of it all, to have no words, and to feel like thatfor as long as you need. Grief doesn’t follow a timetable. Be patient with yourself, and seek the help of others who will let you be yourself.
There is no sure guide that can cut a straight path through the wilderness of grief.
You will make your own way by simply walking. And you will make it.
And by the way, if you need a friend to walk with you, give someone you trust a call.
God is transforming and reconciling the world. But unlike human revolutionaries who demand instant and total change, God is not impatient. The arc of the universe bends toward the full reconciliation of all creation, but — “Come, Lord Jesus!” — that arc is long.
• C. Christopher Smith & John Pattison
• • •
This post is about the patience of God. I am not sure I have ever heard anyone talk about what a troublesome, even scandalous idea (especially to the modern mind) this is to ponder.
But all we must do is simply ask the question, “Why history?”
Why this long process?
Why so much time?
Why so much lavish, extraneous detail that seems so unnecessary to God’s stated plan?
I won’t bring an even greater mystery to this discussion by talking about the current scientific consensus: that we live in a creation 13-14 billion years old and that the beginnings of the human race occurred about 6-7 million years ago. That raises the conversation to an entirely different level than I’m prepared to handle today. [One place to start in thinking about that is Ronald Osborn’s book, Death Before the Fall, which I commend to you.]
Instead, let’s start by simply taking the Bible’s timeline as an example. It records approximately 4 or 5 thousand years of human history. That alone covers several thousand years of births and deaths, and an almost inconceivable number of events in which humans have participated, in addition to all that happened in non-human realms. Think of all the moments lived, the thoughts considered, the dreams imagined, the words spoken, and the actions taken. Try to fathom the number of sins committed! the good deeds performed! How many tears have fallen over that period of time? How many smiles brightened a day? The mind reels at trying to take in even a little bit of it.
Day after day after day for a very, very long time, life has proceeded at a snail’s pace and has included an incomprehensible amount of detail.
And where is God in all of this? Assuming the Bible accurately represents God’s intentions for this world, why is he taking so long, and why is there so much detail that seems superfluous to his promises? How much is there in this world, how much of life, history, human experience, the development of human knowledge, and the rise, rule, and fall of civilizations, that seems to have little or nothing to do with what we know about God’s plan of redemption?
Scripture tells us repeatedly that God is longsuffering, but doesn’t this seem extreme?
Is it conceivable that a God of all love, all wisdom, and all power would allow such a slow, messy, and apparently random process as the context in which he puts a broken creation to rights? That God would only intervene occasionally, in a few special acts that don’t immediately do the trick but only set the stage for the next long era of waiting, living, dying and trying to figure it all out?
We can talk about God’s patience in a detached, theological way, scanning the recorded past with a telescope. In my experience, that is how most Christians, along with their pastors, teachers, and theologians have visualized it — Creation. Fall. Israel. Jesus. Church. All leading to a New Creation. The larger patterns dominate the discussion. But do they serve to shrink our view of God? Do they cause us to imagine a God who only (or primarily) reveals himself by breaking into history and displaying his glory through unmistakable actions?
When we put history under the microscope instead and see it inch along, moment by moment, with all the complexity of billions of everyday lives in every corner of the globe, for days, then decades, then centuries, then millennia, with few if any divine interventions that can’t be interpreted in other terms, what does that do to our understanding of God and his active participation in the affairs of life?
We who rely upon the Bible as our sacred guide have come to expect that our lives today should look like the Bible. And we forget that the story covers thousands of years; what we have in Scripture are a few carefully selected stories and teachings which communicate God’s overall plan and a few key moments in history that advanced the plan. Most of the story takes place on one tiny little stretch of land in the Middle East, and it describes an infinitesimal portion of what has happened throughout the history of the world.
But the preacher stands up on Sunday and leads the congregation to expect that God will do for us what he did for Abraham, Moses, David, and Paul on a regular basis. This presentation of the glorious interventionist God who is continually revealing himself and “working in our lives” in obvious discernible ways is an extreme filtering of the facts about how life is and has always been experienced by the vast majority of people in this world, including Christians.
Perhaps this is why many of our wisest teachers have tried to help us see that “Christ plays in ten thousand places.” In a world ruled by a patient deity, God is present in every aspect of life and living, though his presence is not obvious, dramatic, or interventionist. Rather he works mysteriously, silently, evocatively, and with the active participation of his creatures.
We sense that life is more than what we are in touch with at this moment, but not different from it, not unrelated to it. We get glimpses of wholeness and vitality that exceed what we can muster out of our own resources. We get hints of congruence between who and what we are and the world around us — rocks and trees, meadows and mountains, birds and fish, dogs and cats, kingfishers and dragonflies — obscure and fleeting but convincing confirmations that we are all in this together, that we are kin to all that is and has been and will be. We have this feeling in our bones that we are involved in an enterprise that is more that the sum of the parts we can account for by looking around us and making an inventory of the details of our bodies, our families, our thoughts and feelings, the weather and the news, our job and leisure activities; we have this feeling that we will never quite make it out, never be able to explain or diagram it, that we will always be living a mystery — but a good mystery.
Perhaps this long process of history is necessary for human beings to come of age somehow and become partners with God in the long arc of redemption. Smith and Pattison quote German professor Gerald Lohfink, who says, “God is thus revealed as omnipotent precisely in the fact that God stakes everything on the intelligence, free will, and trust of human beings.”
Please carefully note my use of “perhaps.” I have a million questions and couple of “perhaps” suggestions. That’s all. God took Job on a whirlwind tour of creation and it shut him up. I feel like this one concept: the patience of God, has swept me up in a similar way and dropped me on my head. It raises so many questions about God’s nature, God’s plan, and God’s ways, as well as theodicy questions related to human purpose, suffering, death, and destiny.
Contemplating the patience of God provides an encounter with the numinous, like lying on one’s back under an endless sea of stars. It can scare the pants off you. It can blow your mind. Countless years, countless lives, countless human endeavors and experiences, countless cycles of life, death, and new birth. And a God who is somehow in it all.
Note from CM: Back in 2011, we did a series called “Easter People.” I’ll be re-posting these for a few Sundays during this Easter season.
• • •
“Therefore we have been buried with Him through baptism into death, so that as Christ was raised from the dead through the glory of the Father, so we too might walk in newness of life.” (Romans 6:4)
During Eastertide, we are examining texts from Paul’s epistles that discuss the “newness of life” that it is ours through our participation in Christ’s death and resurrection. We are beginning in Colossians 3, where in our last post we considered Paul’s statement of the new identity Christians have in Christ (3:1-4).
In these verses, Paul reminds the church that we are to live out of our baptismal identity. We have died to sin and all false ways of trying to relate to God (2:6-23). We have been raised up and our life is now “hidden with Christ in God.” Our day to day life in this world is lived out in the light of our union with Christ in glory.
In Paul’s next paragraph, Colossians 3:5-11, the Apostle begins to lay out what this looks like at ground level:
Therefore consider the members of your earthly body as dead to immorality, impurity, passion, evil desire, and greed, which amounts to idolatry. For it is because of these things that the wrath of God will come upon the sons of disobedience, and in them you also once walked, when you were living in them. But now you also, put them all aside: anger, wrath, malice, slander, and abusive speech from your mouth. Do not lie to one another, since you laid aside the old self with its evil practices, and have put on the new self who is being renewed to a true knowledge according to the image of the One who created him–a renewal in which there is no distinction between Greek and Jew, circumcised and uncircumcised, barbarian, Scythian, slave and freeman, but Christ is all, and in all. (NASB)
Baptismal imagery continues in this passage, as Paul speaks of “putting off” and “putting on.” This metaphor of changing clothes reflects the early church practice of replacing the old clothes of the baptized with a new white robe after performance of the rite.
Note that Paul refers to something that has already been accomplished in baptism: they “have laid aside the old self with its practices,” and have “put on the new self.” He is not exhorting them to do this — this is what is already true of them because of their baptism. They are new people in Christ. They are no longer the people they were before. They have escaped the realm of disobedience that is under God’s wrath and have been made anew in God’s new world. God is re-forming them and renewing their minds in true knowledge, and one day they will be fully renewed in his image.
Because they are new people, Paul urges them to live as new people. He does this by identifying two groups of negative “old life” behaviors that Christians should avoid. In verses 5-11, the Apostle sets forth two lists which describe attitudes and actions that are contrary to love.
The first list describes corruption in the sexual realm: “immorality, impurity, passion, evil desire, and greed [covetousness], which amounts to idolatry.”
The second list describes corruption in the realm of speech: “anger, wrath, malice, slander, and abusive speech from your mouth. Do not lie to one another…”
Paul then concludes the paragraph with what at first appears to be a curious reminder of the inclusive nature of the new creation in Christ. He ends his exhortation to put aside sexual and verbal corruption by appealing to the fact that in Christ, “there is no distinction between Greek and Jew, circumcised and uncircumcised, barbarian, Scythian, slave and freeman, but Christ is all, and in all.”
Why this emphasis?
Because Paul is not writing so much about “personal holiness” as he is about relationships. The ethical emphasis of the Bible boils down to one word: Love. Love God. Love your neighbor. Love one another. Paul defines the proper response to the Gospel as “faith working through love” (Gal. 5:6). He says the greatest virtue is love (1Cor 13:13). The fruit of the Spirit is love, with all its attendant characteristics (Gal. 5:22). Christians have been set free — free to love, which fulfills God’s law (Gal. 5:13-14).
Therefore, the two lists of vices which Paul urges the Colossians to “put to death” and “put aside” are sinful attitudes and actions that contradict the practice of genuine love. Sexual corruption grows out of evil desire and covetousness, a self-centered pursuit of gratification that is evidence of idolatry. The “speech” list contains characteristics that are obviously deleterious to relationships. These dysfunctional and destructive patterns of behavior are characteristic of the old creation that emphasizes distinctions between people based on ethnic, cultural, and social class distinctions. However, in the new creation, one’s demographic credentials are not what counts. Therefore, these “earthly” differences should not stand in the way of our practice of love.
Christ is all, and in all. And therefore we are called to love all.
When we live out of our baptismal identity, “setting our minds on things above,” life here below is all about loving our neighbors — living unselfishly not vice versa. And we are now free to do that, as new people in Christ.
We are now free to cast aside sexual preoccupation, brokenness, and corruption. We are now free to put off angry, abusive, and deceptive communication with others. We are free to relate purely and kindly, unselfishly and generously. We are now free to do that in relation to all people, without distinction. These destructive attitudes and actions belong to the “old creation,” which has been decimated by evil, sin, and death. By God’s grace, through faith in Jesus, by means of our baptism, we have “put off” that old creation and have “put on” a new life in union with Christ — a life of new obedience in contrast to the old disobedience; a life of love in contrast to the old life of self-gratification, bitter conflict, and surface distinctions.
In a blog article, Patrick T. McWilliams refers to a essay written by Michael Horton about Christian obedience in the light of what Christ has done for us:
If there is no debt to God, but only thanksgiving, where do our good works go? There is only one direction: outward to our neighbor. We look up in faith toward God and out to our neighbor in loving service.
As we remember our baptism, our “putting off” and “putting on” of Christ, let us each day die to the old life of selfishness and practice the new life of loving service. And when we fail, as we will regularly and often, let us run for forgiveness and renewal to him who “put on” our sins and then “put off” death and the grave and rose triumphant that we might be set free to live and love.
Rachel was slowly weaned from the coma medication. Her seizures returned but at a reduced rate. There were periods of time where she didn’t have seizures at all. Rachel did not return to an alert state during this process. The hospital team worked to diagnose the primary cause of her seizures and proactively treated for some known possible causes for which diagnostics were not immediately available due to physical limitations.
Early Thursday morning, May 2, Rachel experienced sudden and extreme changes in her vitals. The team at the hospital discovered extensive swelling of her brain and took emergency action to stabilize her. The team worked until Friday afternoon to the best of their ability to save her. This swelling event caused severe damage and ultimately was not survivable.
Rachel died early Saturday morning, May 4, 2019.
This entire experience is surreal. I keep hoping it’s a nightmare from which I’ll awake. I feel like I’m telling someone else’s story. I cannot express how much the support means to me and our kids. To everyone who has prayed, called, texted, driven, flown, given of themselves physically and financially to help ease this burden: Thank you. We are privileged. Rachel’s presence in this world was a gift to us all and her work will long survive her.
But…I’m afraid
, which I commend to you.]
, p. 2
The Internet Monk Archives 