[+/-] Next Up

I think the next major thing I'm going to think about is the problem of suffering. We discussed it briefly in my Philosophy of Religion class, and I realized that I don't understand why there is gratuitous suffering in the world, and I cannot at present reconcile this with my beliefs about the nature of God. Thus, it behooves me as a philosopher to confront this inconsistency in my beliefs and attempt to resolve it.

Here's my ever so tentative schedule of what to think about:
1. The problem of pain - what it is, why it's a problem. I think I've got a good start on this.
2. The Biblical explanation for the existence of pain - the fall, etc.
3. Other Christian-ish explanations for pain. (That is, explanations that are consistent with my understanding of God.)
4. Not-so-Christian-ish explanations, including atheistic ones, if necessary.

I intend to blog as I go, both because writing helps me gather my thoughts, and because I'm interested in your thoughts on this issue.

[+/-] What God Is Not (A Theography)

I love the idea of theography (writing about one's personal experience with God), as opposed to theology (making claims about the nature or character of God). I love the humility of theography, which seems to say, "I don't understand God, and I cannot create definitions or concepts that accurately portray who God is. All I can tell you is my own experience with God, which need not be in competition with yours." The theographer is less interested in catching and canonizing some truth about divinity than in receiving gifts of wonder and beauty, and sharing these gifts with others. I want to do theography.

My problem is that there is little or nothing in my life that I think of as experience with God. Regardless of it's cause, this absence of experience makes theography somewhat difficult to do. It seems to me that I can talk with far more certainty about what God has not done in my life than about what he has done. Hence, if I am to present a theography, it must be a negative one. (I mean negative in the sense of focused on what is not, rather than what is, not in the sense of pessimistic or overcritical, though I fear some of you will take it that way.)

Please note: I will use the words "God is not" to mean "I have personally experienced God not to be" or "I have personally come to understand God not to be". I recognize that this may make my statements sound dangerously authoritative (that is, theological), but I stress that I do not intend to convey anything beyond my own personal and highly subjective experience. Perhaps it would be better if I used one of the latter expressions, but they're just so damned unwieldy. Anyway, here we go.

God is not a vending machine. He is not an electronic salesman, hawking joy or blessing or Spirit-power like OhHenrys in school hallways. No proper ritual of prayer and desire and tithing and good deeds can produce my desired results in the manner of D-5 and one dollar. God cannot be predicted. God cannot be bought. God does not come with instructions, and he does not offer refunds. God is not a vending machine.

God is not a promise. I cannot "test him in this" - not for wealth, not for guidance, not for good gifts, or the Spirit, or the movement of mountains. God does not come with special offers or complimentary gifts. God is not a policy or a contract, and he cannot be brandished to ward of pain, nor presented to gain access to pleasure. God is not a promise.

God is not answers. He presents no special insight into science, politics, or ethics. He endorses no worldview. He reveals no plans. Seeking does not beget finding. Supplication does not beget response. Study does not beget infallibility. God is not answers.

God is not my friend. He does not offer companionship, he does not he share his life with mine. God is not touch, heat, or arms to hold me. God does not confides in me. God will not come to me when he's hurt or confused. He will not hang out with me, or write me e-mails, or buy me coffee. God is not nearness or oneness or a kindred spirit. God is not my friend.

God is not my father. He does not hold, guide, instruct or inspire. A father must be more than the cause of my existence. A father must be more than a benefactor, more than an authority. A father who has no time to spend with his child is not a father. A father who does not talk with his child, comfort him, listen to him, or laugh with him is not a father. God is not my father.

So there you go. Once again, that's my experience. It's not meant to contest with yours. It's also not meant to evoke any particular emotional response, nor is it meant to sound bitter or whiny or accusatory. If it comes across somewhat differently than it was intended to (and it does, at least to me) I suspect this is a result of the reader being conditioned to think of experience with God within very narrow parameters. I present this theography partially because I think it's beneficial for us to question such parameters.

I welcome you to respond with your own theography (or any comments you have about mine). You may use any style or format that you wish, and you need not address any of the points I've touched on. What's your experience with God?

[+/-] Further Further Reading

"Love is my Faith and my religion and wherever its caravans take me, that is where I shall follow, for love is my religion and faith."

This is what I'm all about. Thanks to Bruce.

And as long as I'm recklessly throwing out links to all and sundry, I'd like to draw your attention to and/or further ballyhoo the already much ballyhooed new blog written by my good friend Jonas (of left-an-interesting-comment-on-my-blog-recently fame). He is a self-described "towering talent", whose writing is rumored to be "charged with whimsy, humor, and (occasionally) pictures of babies dressed up as potted plants". Moreover, he promises "words that will fill the ache inside". While I am naturally skeptical of such lofty claims (cynic that I am), I know that if anyone can deliver on such a promise, it is he.

That ringing endorsement should be worth at least eight bucks.

[+/-] Further Reading

I got an e-mail recently from a guy named Jim Johnson, requesting that I link to his blog, Straight, Not Narrow (a splendid title), presumably because of my recent post about some Christians' un-Christlike treatment of homosexuals. I read some of his stuff and decided it was worth a link. If you're interested in the whole homosexuality/Christianity thing, he's got enough links to keep you busy for a while.

Also well worth reading is this blog, written during the coming out of a gay Christian blogger. (His current blog is here.)

And if I could prevail upon you to read one thing about homosexuality, it would be this excerpt from the book A Place at the Table, which challenges a very prevalent stereotype about homosexuals, as well as taking issue with the "just don't flaunt it" school of tolerance. Unfortunately, the book is friggen impossible to find in Edmonton. I may have to break down and finally buy something on line.

Happy reading.

[+/-] Clarification

This post is partially a response to this comment by Jonas. A number of comments I've received lately have made me realize that the impression some of my posts have made on some readers are quite different from what I intended.

I think there are a couple of writing habits I've fallen into that have apparently given some of my readers the wrong impression of my views. For one, I sometimes use "Christians" as a sort of shorthand for "some Christians, of whom I am one", giving the impression that I'm lumping all Christians together, and then distancing myself from them. I've received comments to the effect that I must know some pretty horrible Christians to be so frustrated and disillusioned with them. I don't think this is the case. When I criticize those Christians (who are by no means representative of all Christians) who scorn or mistreat "sinners", over-emphasize the Bible, are intellectually dishonest about the nature of their God, or engage in self-centered "worship" (to name a few recent tirades), I am criticizing what I personally once thought and did, or in some cases still do. I'm well aware of how easy it is to criticize those who are different, which is why I try not to write about Muslims, Atheists, Calvinists, Catholics, or baseball fans. I'm sure some people within these categories (who are not necessarily representative of everyone within their respective categories) are in error on various points and ought to be corrected. But I am none of these things, I know little or nothing about them, and thus I am in no place to critique them. I will only ever critique myself and those like me - that is, views that I have held, or things I have done. At least, this is the standard I try to hold myself to. In the future, I will try to be more clear that I don't disagree with all Christians (how absurd) on any certain issue, and I can relate to those Christians I believe to be in the wrong. I can understand their thinking (to a point) and I can sympathize with them because I once thought as they do, and, in many cases, still act as they do.

Jonas is right that I have more difficulty loving judgmental, holier-than-thou Christians than homosexuals. I won't pretend I don't struggle with this. However, being a recovering judgmental, holier-than-thou Christian myself, I have a reasonable understanding of their mindset and actions. Although I often become frustrated with certain segments of Christianity, I seldom feel malice towards any individual person.

However, what I feel is not the issue here. It is one of my weaknesses as a writer that I tend to forget or downplay the effect my words might have on the reader. What in my mind is a very calmly reasoned (yet forcefully presented) argument against a faceless ideology may be read as a personal attack against cherished beliefs, or a bitter rant against an enemy. Unfortunately, my passion as a writer occasionally exceeds my diligence as an editor, and I think I can come across as more angry and judgmental in writing than I would ever be in person. Like Paul, I tend to be timid when face to face, and bold when away. Of course, it's far easier to be gentle and understanding when face to face with a human being (however pharisaic) than when confuting a perceived distortion of the Gospel through a keyboard.

I certainly appreciate the comments I receive, particularly the ones asking for clarification or expressing disagreement. Such comments are half the reason I blog. (Half? Maybe 30%.) If you think something I've written is grade A bullshit (or even grades B through D bullshit) please let me know. And if you agree, you're allowed to tell me that too.