[+/-] Can I Get an Amen?

I would buy that book in a second.

[+/-] Heck No At All!

I was talking to a friend the other night about some of my recent entries and I realized he had entirely the wrong impression of why I think about what I do. At least, he and I disagreed, and I realized that I hadn't made my position as clear as I thought I had. So this is to explain why I write about the dark side of God and such things.

This will sound pretentious, but I read something in Plato's Republic that's analogous to my situation. The character Glaucon challenges Socrates, the protagonist, with a fairly persuasive argument in favor of living unjustly. Glaucon (wonderful name) stresses that he does not agree with the argument he's presenting - he believes, or wants to believe, that justice is superior to injustice - but he has not yet heard an argument in favor of justice that is as persuasive as he would like it to be. For this reason, he presents Socrates with an argument against justice that is as strong as he can make it and challenges Socrates to overcome it, hoping, of course, that he can.

I hope (I'm not certain) it's clear to the reader that I don't have a vested interest in proving God to be unjust. Where would that get me? I really want God to be just, in fact I would do almost anything to continue to believe in God's justice, except ignoring or shrugging off evidence against it. I have long held the conviction that if I am to truly and resolutely believe in something, I must subject it to serious scrutiny. Not a mock-trial. Not a perfunctory, cursory scan of the evidence. I'm talking about honest, diligent examination.

This is why I sometimes write about the wrath of God and other things unbecoming of a devout Christian. Because I don't know anyone else who does, and I take my faith seriously enough to want to discover, to the best of my abilities, whether my beliefs are contradictory or flawed. I have no beef with those of you who find fault in my arguments (that's half the reason I blog) or the presentation thereof. But for those of you who think I'm an apostate, a God-mocker or a recreational doubter, hopefully this clears a few things up. If you still object to the questions I ask, I'm quite willing to discuss this further. And if you still object after that, no one's forcing you to read my blog.

I just remembered I wrote something similar to this a few months ago. I rather liked that post.

[+/-] The God of Wrath

By now you've probably heard at least one fundamentalist group claim that the flood is God's judgment against New Orleans for Mardi Gras and other such wickedness. Various people have brought these claims to my attention, expressing their horror, disgust, disbelief and so forth, both at the idea of God destroying a city out of wrath and at those who have the heartlessness and gall to suggest it.

These claims of judgment immediately reminded me of a book of apologetics I browsed over the summer (Evidence that Demands a Verdict), specifically the chapter detailing the fulfillments of certain Biblical prophesies. These prophecies turned out to be almost exclusively about the violent destruction of wicked cities.

A quick scan of the prophetic books of the Old Testament reveals a remarkable fixation on judgment. One who reads these books might be forgiven for thinking that God spends most of his time pouring out wrath on immoral cities and nations. In a similar vein are the stories of the great flood in which God drowned all of mankind, the incineration of Sodom and Gomorrah, the ten plagues on Egypt, Joshua's genocidal conquest of the Promised Land, David's raiding parties (in which he left no woman or child alive), and the mass killing at the climax of Esther. If you read through the Bible it's hard not to notice God's habit of pouring out destruction on cities and nations as a whole (to say nothing of punishing children for their father's or even distant ancestor's sins). Mention this to most Christians and they'll tell you something about how God is just, or how it would be wrong not to punish evil people for their wrongdoing, or how actions have natural consequences...

Maybe you think the Egyptians (all of them, as a race) had it coming to them for enslaving the Israelites. Maybe you can explain why it was necessary or even compassionate for Jewish warriors to wipe out whole tribes, down to the last woman and child. Maybe you believe that we are "fallen" and God is holy, and this somehow gives him the right to wipe out "evil" cities. Maybe in your mind this is enough for Tyre, Sidon or Ashkelon. Is it enough for New Orleans?

Watch the News. See destruction. See grief. See the dead, the dying and the desolate. See the rich in safety and the poor in misery. See the statistics, and then see the people who make them up. See chaos. See despair. See the ruin and carnage created by a hurricane - an "act of God". Drink it in, feel it, and then tell me that a good and righteous God is punishing these people for their wickedness.

I don't believe you can. And I don't believe you could praise the God who destroyed Tyre, Sidon or Ashkelon, if you had been there. If you could see in the pages of your Bible what you see on the nightly news, if the genocide and destruction could be real to you, I think you would take a different view of Christianity and it's God. Your Bible stories are the stories of New Orleans, South-East Asia, September 11th, Somalia, Rwanda and the Holocaust, told by those who claim catastrophes as the judgment of an vengeful God. Your Bible is soaked with the blood of the dead and the doomed. You Bible is the chronicle of the conquests of the Lord of Hosts.

I cannot tell you if Katrina is the wrath of the Christian God. But I can tell you that He has orchestrated countless similar disasters. Do not forget this, Christian. Do not ignore it or excuse it or conceal it. You must deal with this fact if you believe your Bible: your God is a god who slaughters nations, destroys cities, and takes vengeance on children for their father's sins. Your God is a god of wrath.

Tell me, Christian, (because I carry this same burden) how do you deal with this knowledge?

[+/-] Jacob Returns

Hello, I'm back. I've been more or less computerless for the past few weeks. I've had an awesome time doing entirely non-computer related things, but I'm glad to be blogging again.

So I ended up counseling for the final week of the summer, which was totally unexpected. Ever since the camp first contacted me in January, we've agreed that I shouldn't counsel, because we disagreed on some fairly foundational points of doctrine (inerrancy of scripture, damnation for all non-Christians, etc.). But they were in desperate need of another counselor for the final week, and I decided that maybe I could do it after all. To my surprise, they agreed. I'm not very good at guessing God's will, but it seemed like an interesting coincidence to me. If the issue had come up three days earlier, I'm sure I would have never considered asking to counsel. What changed? I'd been thinking the previous few days about what I believe, and this is roughly what I'd come up with:

As a child, I defined my spirituality by my beliefs. A Christian for me was someone who held all of the correct views on matters of theology, ethics, church practice and so on. A couple years ago when my beliefs began to change, it seemed like a terribly significant occurrence. Like anyone whose faith centers on his creed, I was shaken to find that it is possible for honest beliefs to change. Of course, my changes of perspective presented a huge problem when I wanted to work with various organizations whose statements of faith clashed with mine. I thought it was impossible for people to work toward a common goal when they differ in their beliefs about such important issues as women's roles, the importance of baptism, or the chronology of the end times. Just recently I've started to think that maybe all of these issues are secondary. So here's my statement of faith:

I believe in love, first and foremost. By 'love' I mean a change of focus from ourselves to others, selflessness, others-centeredness, compassion, servanthood, self-sacrifice. I believe in the ability of love to transform both the giver and the receiver. I believe that love is the catalyst for joy, for righteous living, and for every good thing. I believe love is the beginning of everything, the reason for everything, the goal of everything. I believe that the purpose behind the universe, the existence of mankind, all of history and every act of God is the creation of a community of love.

I am one who pursues love, first. I am a Christian second, and I am a Christian because what Christianity says about love makes sense to me. I attach little value to Christian beliefs or practices, except to the extent that they nurture or demonstrate love.

I believe that I can work with people whose beliefs and practices differ from my own so long as the goal of their ministry is love, and I believe (though I respect those who disagree) that my identity as a Christian and as one who pursues love qualifies me to work with other Christians.

I wrote recently that I've been thinking of finding a new group of people with which to serve and fellowship - people who believe stuff more similar to what I believe. Now I'm thinking that maybe I can still be a part of the more conservative group I've grown up in, because maybe our unity of focus is more important than our differences of doctrine. We'll see how it all plays out.

I start school in twelve hours. It's good to be back.

[+/-] Three Worship Songs I Hate

I figured it's time I ranted about Christian worship songs. Some of them I like, of course, but there are others that I loath. In the interest of brevity, I'll mention only the three that are most irksome to me at the moment. I've been trapped in a church service with each of these recently.

I can feel you flowing through me
Holy Spirit come and fill me up
Come and fill me up

Love and mercy fill my senses
I am thirsty for your presence Lord
Come and fill me up
Lord let your mercy wash away
All of my sin
Fill me completely with your love
Once again

I need you
I want you
I love your presence
I need you
I want you
I love your presence

The opening line is enough to condemn this song in my mind, but what really gets me is not the claims of physical sensations of God's presence, but how it flip-flops between "I feel God's presence" and "God please come" lines. How can you follow "I can feel you flowing through me" with "Come and fill me up"? To me, this amounts to admitting that the former sentiments were untrue (or at best, premature), which makes it sound like the whole song is an effort to simultaneously coax God into revealing himself and (in case God is uncooperative) brainwash yourself into believing that you can feel God's presence. At any rate, the whole focus of the song seems to be our desire to experience pleasurable sensations. This isn't worship, it's spiritual drug-abuse. And speaking of brainwashing:

Is it true today that when people pray
Cloudless skies will break
Kings and queens will shake
Yes it's true and I believe it
I'm living for you

Is it true today that when people pray
We'll see dead men rise
And the blind set free
Yes it's true and I believe it
I'm living for you

I'm gonna be a history maker in this land
I'm gonna be a speaker of truth to all mankind
I'm gonna stand, I'm gonna run
Into your arms, into your arms again
Into your arms, into your arms again

Well it's true today that when people stand
With the fire of God, and the truth in hand
We'll see miracles, we'll see angels sing
We'll see broken hearts making history
Yes it's true and I believe it
We're living for you

Is it actually true today that prayer can raise the dead? Is it? THEN WHY ARE WE SINGING ABOUT IT? Maybe I'm making too big a deal out of this. I feel a little like the hyperbole police. It just bugs me that we willingly, passionately, joyously sing stuff that we would find ludicrous if not set to music. It's clear that this song is pure pep, and as such probably should not be taken too seriously, but I don't like seeing people getting comfortable saying whatever the church expects them to say without scrutiny. And finally:

All who are thirsty
All who are weak
Come to the fountain
Dip your heart in the stream of life
Let the pain and the sorrow
Be washed away
In the waves of his mercy
As deep cries out to deep
(we sing)

Come Lord Jesus come

Holy Spirit come

This song drives me crazy. Pain and sorrow cannot be simply "washed away". Not by choice, and not by request. This is the worst kind of lie that Christians tell because it belittles people's pain. It's so condescending, like saying "Just quit clinging to your heartache!" as if people feel pain by choice, as if they need to be coaxed into letting God heal them. "Hey, person in pain, have you considered praying about it? Have you considered asking God to give you life?" Has it occurred to you, song-singer, the damage that this kind of tripe can cause? I can only assume that you've personally experienced the kind of pain-washing you're singing about (and if this is the case, I'm glad for you) and you assume that what worked for you will work for everyone else. Open your eyes.

What really bothers me about worship songs is how you can get a whole church-load of people to sing without blinking something that they would never say to another person, or tolerate from the pulpit. Imagine how people would react if I stood up in church and said "Isn't it wonderful how we all have a physical sensation of God's presence?" or "Bob's Grandma passed away yesterday. Let's all pray that she'll be raised from the dead." or "God will take away all your pain and sorrow right now if you just ask him to." Why do you sing stuff you don't believe? Or do you disagree with my assessments of these songs?

(Slightly off topic, but too good not to link to.)

[+/-] Things I Thought this Week

This will be random.

I'm reading Soul Survivor by Phillip Yancy. It's good. He talks about some really interesting people, especially Gandhi, about whom I knew very little. Gandhi is my new hero.

It's good that I'm not counseling. In some ways I wish I was, just because pounding nails isn't very stretching, but I know that I couldn't do a lot of the things that would be expected of me as a counselor, not the least of which is singing certain songs. Some Christian music is really awesome, but some of it is disgusting.

I'm reminded that I have far greater control over my emotions than I like to think. Under most circumstances I can dismiss anger, jealousy or infatuation through conscious choice. This is very cool.

Sometimes I think I'm not much more heretical than most of my friends. Often I'll tell someone about my newest divergence from orthodoxy only to see them nod in agreement. I think the biggest difference between me and many of the people who are happily counseling and preaching at camps is that I'm up-front and vocal about my unorthodoxy, and most people just keep their mouths shut.

I have no idea what I'd say to a kid if one were to ask me a about a spiritual issue on which my view diverges from my church's. I don't think it's entirely healthy (or entirely possible) for a young kid to think the way I do. To be blunt and truthful about my beliefs with an 8 year old would be irresponsible. But I'd feel like a liar if I fed them some Church doctrine I completely disbelieve. I like the idea that we're not obligated to always tell "the truth" but rather to say what is beneficial to the hearer at that specific point in time. I suppose the problem is I have no idea what that might be. I guess I'll have to sort that out before I become I father.

The idea of relationship with God amuses me to no end. It used to drive me crazy, but now it mostly seems comical. Imagine having a relationship with a being whose very existence is a matter of debate! (I don't mean that to sound condescending to those who do have such a relationship. I'm not saying you're wrong, I'm just saying the whole thing strikes me as funny.)

Next week I'm doing maintenance again. I'm not particularly looking forward to it, but I'm certainly not dreading it either. It will be good.

And now I am tired. And now I am going to bed.