Why I Am a Christian

This past week the leader of our church small-group gave us a homework assignment:  Imagine that noted scientist and atheist Richard Dawkins has requested that Christians write to him explaining why they believe what they believe.  Write a letter in response.  

The following is my homework.  I share it here for the sake of anyone who may be curious as to why, in this age of scientific discovery, I continue to adhere to the Christian faith.

Dear Mr. Dawkins,

In this letter, I am pretending that you have asked me to explain why I am a Christian. As you are a noted atheist, I will begin more simply with why I believe in God. For the first 40 years of my life I lived as a nominal Christian (which most Americans were in those days before it became so fashionable to disassociate with religion). I experienced occasional bouts of evangelical fervor interspersed with long stretches of practical atheism - times when I lived as though there is no God and yet without openly denouncing my religion.

I've lived the last eight-plus years, beginning at the age of 40, as a committed Christian. Since then, Christ has been my hope and the Scriptures (the Christian bible) my guide. They have been the source of all hope, joy, and meaning in my life. They have instructed my thoughts and attitudes. My faith has dramatically reshaped me into the person I am today.

I always prided myself on being a person devoted to truth, though, in truth, I was mostly a person devoted to my own self-preservation and personal happiness. I liked whatever truths were convenient to my goals and disregarded all the rest so much as my conscience and societal pressures permitted. For me, God was many things. On the one hand, He was someone I could to go to for help or defense, assuming I believed my life and cause was worthy enough to assure He would be on my side. On the other hand, He was someone whose judgment I feared, thus my years of avoidance. I was never particularly interested in knowing God for His own sake, or in knowing what He really intended in creating this world, or me. I also never seriously considered any atheistic arguments, having believed in God my whole life. One great truth I have learned is that there is a vast difference between believing in God, even the Christians' God, and being a Christian.

Since my conversion, I can say that I truly am a person devoted to truth. I can think of no fate worse than to learn I've based my entire life on a lie. In these last eight years I have listened to argument after argument against faith in God. I do not listen to news sources that favor my religion. I very rarely read Christian “scientific” literature. I learn science from scientists, most of whom are atheists or agnostics, via mainly secular sources. In fact, I listen to atheists, almost daily, and you are among those voices I hear. You, and many others, insist that science invalidates my beliefs, that it disproves God.

I believe both science and scripture have truths to teach us and I learn from both. I weigh what each has to say. In the past eight years I have yet to hear anything from science which challenges the truths I have learned in Scripture. Yet, I have very often heard science used and interpreted in such a way as to attempt to disprove God.

Is this what science is for?

I always understood the question of science to be “How?” not “Why?”

You are a scientist, and so it makes sense that “How?” would be the foremost question on your mind. Yet just because “How?” is the only question science is equipped to answer, does not that mean it is the only one worth asking. Just because science can't answer the “Why?” does not make it an invalid question. Is it appropriate for science to rule out intentionality in the universe simply because it can't study for it? If that is the case, then I wonder, what place does the question “Why?” have anywhere in our world, and why on earth do we humans persist in asking it? Have you ever honestly considered that there may be some questions which science can never answer, because they are not matters of science at all? How do you account for art, for literature, for philosophy, for all the humanities? Can science explain all these and the deepest and highest aspirations of the human soul? Can science explain why life fights to be lived and to perpetuate itself? Can it explain why there are laws in the universe without which science, along with all the things it studies could never exist?

Certainly you know that there are questions that science is not equipped to answer.

One of the arguments I have heard you make against religions (though Christianity seems to be your pet peeve) is that it is responsible for the greatest atrocities committed by mankind. I have heard you attempt to disassociate atheism from the atrocities which have been committed under its banner by claiming there is no direct line between the ideology of atheism and the violence done in atheistic regimes, and that there is a direct connection between religion and violence. (You tend to treat all religions as equal. They are not.) I think I recall that part of your reasoning here is that atheism has no dogma, no holy book. Atheism doesn't have a bible. That much is true. And yet I assert that there is an even straighter line between atheism and violence than between religion and violence. That line runs straight through human hearts, unfiltered by any religious code. The human heart is capable of dreadful violence. Most religions go to great pains to try to regulate this. Still the violence finds a way to express itself. And, yes, it often uses its own religion as an excuse. The atheist heart needs no excuses. But this is not to say that atheism necessitates violence any more than to say all religion does.

You are a brilliant man. I believe you know full well that the violence done in the name of Christianity over the centuries is not truly in keeping with the teachings of Christianity. So I will move on.

You are a man of science. But you do not seem content to hold science up for what it is and let it speak for itself. You go about not so much as a man with something to prove as a man with something to disprove. There is little need any more to prove the value of science. Most of western society agrees with its value and benefits from it daily. I do understand that there is an element of Christianity which majors in “junk” science. The reason it is junk is that it twists and interprets the data to fit preconceived ideas, rather than letting the data tell its own story. And while I would never presume to call the science you engage in “junk”, I would venture to say that from your mouth science often seems less like a goal in itself than a means to an end - a tool to disprove the thing you have presumed not to exist: God.

And so you approach science with the vengeance of a man seeking to destroy a thing he hates rather than a man seeking truth.

You've devoted your life to undermining belief in God - to dismantling, if possible, any faith that has been placed in Him. I know you believe you're doing a good thing. You are setting people free from slavery to superstition. You have your own gospel – the good news of freedom from the knowledge of God. Yours is a world where each life's meaning is a blank slate waiting to be defined by whoever is living it. After this life there's nothing - nothing to account for, no one to answer to, nothing to fear, nothing to anticipate. The freedom your belief system offers comes from knowing that. It is the freedom to live each moment to the fullest and according to your own terms.

I have allowed my imagination to run wild with the freedom you describe. I've thought long and hard, wondering what would be the way to live if this is all there is, if there is no God, no judge of the universe, no standards, no accountability, no ultimate right or wrong, no punishments, no rewards. There would be no sin, that is true. There would be no guilt, also true. There would be no fear of future judgment. There would also be no reason to respect human life or laws, other than to suit whatever instinctual emotional tendencies I my have, or to avoid society's established penalties (the value of which is hard to establish if there is no purpose in the universe). If men are not created in the image of God, then there's no reason for me not to detest any person of a color not my own, or of lower intelligence, or one who is uglier, or crueler, or kinder, or more beautiful, or richer, or weaker, or older, or sicker.

In fact, we might as well give up talking about human dignity, of the higher good, and the perpetuation of the species. What on earth difference does any of that make? If it's all just random, what difference does any of it really make? I am of no more value than an amoeba, a speck of dust, or a puff of smoke. There is no benefit, or lack thereof in the continuation of any species, or of this world as we know it. There is no reason for me to watch my language, to be kind and gentle, or to seek not to offend. As for those who suffer around me - there is no reason to feel anything but glad that it is them and not me who is suffering - unless of course I could think of something tangible to be gained in assisting them. There is no reason for me to love anyone except to the extent that they please me, and only for as long. There is no reason for me to love my children or care for them, except that pesky maternal instinct which inexplicably and without purpose insists on perpetuating the species. There is no reason not to abuse them or even kill them if I want to. There is no reason for me not to seek revenge if I feel "wronged" - though how I could be wronged, when there's no such thing as right - well.... (If I don't make it "right", who will?) In a godless world all there is for me, a being formed by random happenings, is to follow my moment by moment sense of pleasure and pain (though why I would interpret one as "good" and the other as "bad" would also be a mystery) - or, as the Scripture so nicely says: "Eat, drink, and be merry, for tomorrow we die".

I could go on like that, but I hope I've made my point. Your godless gospel, if wholeheartedly embraced and consistently applied, leads to destruction and death. But then, if your view is true, I suppose it doesn't really matter after all. And then again, if it is true, it shouldn't matter so much to you what I or anyone else believes either.

Now, I have probably said enough, but if you have read this far I might as well add a few words explaining why I am convinced that the God of the Bible is the one true God, and why I am a Christian. In short, Christianity is the faith that most accurately represents the world, humanity in particular, as it really is – wonderfully made, so rich with potential, and yet inescapably corrupt. It is the only religion whose God is as vast and powerful as the universe He created, yet so attentive to even the smallest of creatures. This God loves the world He so carefully created and the beings He formed to reflect His own image. This is the only God whose concern for His creatures was so great that He became flesh and sacrificed for their sins. Going further, Christianity is a historical faith based upon a historical figure who entered into a long established religious system (Judaism) fulfilling countless of its prophecies. The life and death of Christ are well documented and are not seriously brought into question, even by secular historians. His mission and even His resurrection are validated by many witnesses – witnesses willing to die rather than deny what they saw. These people gained nothing, no power, no wealth, no prestige in doing so. They did it because they believed. Their testimony is recorded in many voices in Scripture. I trust this testimony and stand near the end of a long line of people who have found the Scriptures to be a living document with power to open eyes to the light of God.

Sincerely,

Laurie M.

The Value of Pi

In my previous post I reviewed Life of Pi.  The following is a discussion of the book from a specifically Christian perspective.

Life of Pi was a slow read for me. I took my time chewing it. There were a few points at which I nearly gave up.  A long, long time in a lifeboat on the open sea can do that to a person. I got tired for Pi.  I got bored for him. I hated his existence for him. I was afraid for him. I stopped wanting to share his dreadful adventure. It felt too much like being there. But I could not give up. I think I really needed to experience that promised happy ending.

Art is not always beautiful, though one could argue that there is a kind of beauty in truth even when it is ugly - the beauty that is found in integrity, in capturing of the soul of a moment.  Life of Pi is that kind of art. The scenes Martel paints are unforgettable.  The horrors are not like bad dreams which slip, along with their strangeness, away into obscurity.  Pi's traumas are as mundane and void of magic as real-life horrors generally are.  Likewise for the moments of triumph. There is mastery in his handling of the sense of touch and the imagery of the very close up: the catching of a turtle, the puncture of a fish-hook through a strip of dried flesh, the crumble of a hard biscuit.

As it was slow to chew, Life of Pi has taken even longer to digest. It's been weeks since I finished reading it, and I'm still thinking about it.  Every day something in life calls it back to mind, asking to be held up to Pi, or to be looked at through his lens. I still have not plumbed its depths. Each subsequent evaluation unearths some new discovery, some bit of wisdom I have found useful for me as a Christian. There is, for instance, the always-needed reminder that we humans are alike in our desperate search for meaning in life and the universe.  There is the unspoken reminder that civilization and culture, without whose supports and constraints our humanity rapidly devolves into bestiality, are blessings not to be ignored or regarded with ingratitude. There is the sense of wonder and delight at hearing a story well-told. It is nice to be reminded that great works are still being written, and that they do not have to be lofty, but can  be accessible to an ordinary reader, which Life of Pi certainly is.

But beneath and its vivid imagery and storytelling, the foundation of Life of Pi's genius lies in its perfect integration of storyline with philosophy. Pi's life experiences and his inner landscapes are so artfully interwoven that when he kneels to this god or That, you understand which one and why. In this, Life of Pi is a masterpiece of post-modern philosophical and religious thought and a trenchant expression of what religion means to perhaps the bulk of today's worshipers. In this way, Pi's faith becomes, for the Christian reader, a mirror. Gazing into the faith of Pi, the lines of ones own faith can be examined and compared. Its similarities can be recognized and its weaknesses and strengths exposed. 

I've heard it said that studying comparative religion is the worst thing a Christian can do, that it undermines faith.  This mindset will lead some to think that Life of Pi should be avoided. But I suggest that this is one of the best reasons for a Christian to read it. Faith, by its nature, is a grappler. It is in the process of wrestling that the strengths and weaknesses of our belief systems are revealed. A faith which cannot stand up to the world's art, wisdom, and philosophy is a weak faith indeed. But it will not be strengthened by avoiding challenges. It can only be strengthened through exercise.

A vital Christian faith values the world's masterpieces, but not by swallowing them whole. It deals with art as it does life - as it really is.  It appreciates what is true and beautiful. It acknowledges what is ugly. It contends with what challenges it. It does more than "eat the meat and spit out the bones", enjoying the aspects of culture it likes and ignoring the rest. Rather, in the spirit of the Apostle Paul on Mars Hill,  faith examines the  unpleasant and difficult aspects.  It gains insight into the hearts of men and uses what it learns to build bridges of understanding for the sake of the gospel.  

Pi embraces three religions at once.  He gathered  them one by one and treasures each for its own unique truths, stories, and beauties, as well as for the different needs of his heart that each was able to meet.  Each religion reflects a different facet of life and is true in its own way, or at the very least seeks to explain the realities it sees in its own way. Each offers a lens through which to understand life and its own way of relating to God.  Pi, like the Gandhi he so admired, valued the loveliest qualities of each belief system, sensed no contradiction, and felt no internal compulsion to choose just one. 

A reflective soul, Pi uses his religions much as an artist uses brushes and paints: to interpret life, coloring it with beauty and meaning.  A god of vengeance softens the pain of cruelty with hope of justice. When one is weak and helpless there are strong deities to appeal to. When poverty dirties the landscape, a gilded temple or colorful prayer cloth evoke the ecstatic sense of  a divine presence and provide a respite for the soul and its senses. When life seems meaningless, myths abound that tell the story of why things are as they are.  Sometimes only a hint of a "why", just the slightest notion of control, or the vaguest sense of one's place in a bigger picture is comfort enough to recommend surviving another day. For these ends, Pi views each belief system, even atheism, as valuable. Though he rejects atheism, he places it alongside the rest, a brush he has seen used, but which feels hopeless in his own hands. 

It's not so difficult to understand how Pi is able to live and think in this way.  We Christians, if we are honest about it, must admit that we are inclined to manage our own thoughts and lives, and  religious beliefs in a similarly eclectic fashion.  We pick and choose texts and doctrines which best suit our felt needs, our personal values, our personalities, goals, and political inclinations, and then neglect or ignore whatever is left. In doing so we create our own gods custom-made after our own image, perfectly suited to our own needs and desires, and call them God. Life, as with any history, needs to be interpreted in order to find any meaning, beauty, or value in it, and so the humanity in us instinctively reaches for a brush and our favorite tubes of color and sets to work. 

Battered by sun, wind, and waves, and threatened by starvation, thirst, and predatory beasts, thrust into a Darwinian existence where survival is the only thing, Pi finds himself in an experience the whole of culture is designed to avoid: he is alone with his human soul. The harsh realities of his circumstances become the subject for his creative work. This new and catastrophic history must tempered and colored with meaning. Amazingly he survives.  Disconcertingly, for the Christian reader, he comes through it with all his religions intact.  

We Christians place great stock in testimonies of faith. We love to hear the stories of our brethren who have endured the unbearable and lived to proclaim God's faithfulness through it all.  We take their experiences to be confirmation of the validity of their beliefs, and the the proof of the truth of our religion.  But what are we to do with Pi's epic of faith which places equal value on Christ and idols?  If experience really is the test of truth then what difference does it make if Pi believes in Christ and all those other gods.

Who are we to question his experience?

That is one of the great questions of our age.  It is effective, because it is unanswerable.  The only honest response is that we can't.  We can't walk a mile in anyone else's shoes, because shoes are not souls. The uncomfortable truth is that we are all helpless in the face of someone else's experience. If experience is the measure of truth, and everyone's experience is different, all we can do is throw up our hands, and with Pontius Pilate ask the other great question of our age:

"What is truth?"

That is a question that Pi will not answer for us. 

The Faith of Pi

I was about half-way through Yann Martel's Life of Pi when I heard it had just been made into a movie.  I had just finished reading when the film was released.  By that point I was curious about what had been made of it, and dubious that the movie could retain the impact of the book.  Two weeks worth of feedback later, my doubts remain.  Though Roger Ebert, whose opinion in such matters I well respect, has reviewed it highly, I've decided just the same not to see the movie until the book has receded further into the deeps of memory. I don't want to be disappointed. It's better to wait until I'll be better able to judge the film on its own merits.

The movie trailer I've seen looks beautiful, romantic, and fanciful. The book, though full of vivid imagery and gut-wrenching story telling, was not, to me, a grand scale adventure. Or perhaps I should say, it was an adventure, but an adventure described as adventure feels to those who really experience it, as a series of close and terrifying realities. Hearing adventures or dramas told, or seeing them acted, can be exciting and even entertaining. The reader and the watcher are safe. Actually living one is more like hell.  It is to Martel's credit that, Life of Pi, could be beautifully written, vividly painted, charming, and sometimes funny, but also deeply unsettling.  

Life of Pi is about an Indian boy, a teen really, but one whose naivete makes him seem much younger than that to me. His family owned and operated a zoo. It was also their home. There Pi lived a nearly idyllic childhood. In it he gained a world of wisdom and an allegory for just about every truth in life and faith. "I have heard nearly as much nonsense about zoos as I have about God and religion," says Pi. "Well-meaning but misinformed people think animals in the wild are 'happy' because they are 'free'."  But a good zoo like his family's, Pi explains, provides all that the animals really need and would spend all their energies looking for in the wild:  food, defined territory, comfort, mates, freedom from predators, etc. It is their home and within its confines all their wants and needs are met. So it is with faith.  

"Close them all down if you want (and let us hope that what wildlife remains can survive in what is left of the natural world).  I know zoos are no longer in people's good graces.  Religion faces the same problem. Certain illusions about freedom plague them both."

As it happened, it is here in the confines of the zoo that Pi first fell under the influence of an atheist, Mr. Kumar - his biology teacher.  Pi's zoo is Mr. Kumar's temple.  Its empirical truths reinforce his need for  structure, and thus were a source of comfort. His atheism was a result of the unanswered prayers of his childhood bout with polio. "What a terrible disease that must be," Pi reflected, "if it could kill God in a man." Yet Pi felt a kinship with with him.  As he put it, this Mr. Kumar gave him his "first clue that atheists are my brothers and sisters of a different faith, and every word they speak speaks of faith.  Like me, they go as far as the legs of reason will carry them - and then they leap."

Pi's real name is Piscine Patel. Piscine means swimming pool in French.  His father's love of swimming bordered on religious.  In time Piscine's would too.  Though his guilty pleasure was to betray his own name by sneaking off to swim, not in a swimming pool, as his father preferred, but in the sea.  Unfortunately, Piscine, spoken in English, sounds an awful lot like pissing. So, fed up with the inevitable adolescent school-boy taunting, he crafted a new name for himself and launched it with theatrical flourish on the first day of his first year in secondary school at the beginning of each class period. To his great relief, it caught on.

"In that Greek letter that looks like a shack with a corrugated tin roof, in that elusive, irrational number with which scientists try to understand the universe, I found refuge."

In this simple statement we are given the first hints at themes that are bigger than just Pi. Perhaps the life of this Pi might also be a tool to understand the universe.  We are not meant to mistake Pi for an ordinary boy.

Pi loves God. Or, you might say, he loves the idea of God, which is sometimes but not always the same thing.  I can't tell which it is with Pi.  What is unquestionable is that he loves religion, and his love is sincere. Like the sea, he, once he had discovered the joy of it, plunged into it at every opportunity. He was not brought up in a religious home.  It would be a relative of his mother's who would bring him for the first time into a Hindu temple. The smells, the sights, the rituals, and beauty of it all sowed in his heart "a germ of religious exaltation, no bigger than a mustard seed."

But," he assures,

"religion is more than rite and ritual.  There is what the rite and ritual stand for.  Here too I am a Hindu. The universe makes sense to me through Hindu eyes....I have been a Hindu all my life. With its notions in mind I see my place in the universe."

His Hinduism is lovely, formative, and surprising:

First wonder goes deepest; wonder after that fits in the impression made by the first.  I owe to Hinduism the original landscape of my religious imagination, those towns and rivers, battlefields and forests, holy mountains and deeps seas where gods, saints, villains and ordinary people rub shoulders, and, in doing so, define who and why we are.  I first heard of the tremendous, cosmic might of loving kindness in this Hindu land. It was Lord Krishna speaking.  I heard him, and I followed him. And in his wisdom and perfect love, Lord Krishna led me to meet one man. I was fourteen years old - and a well-content Hindu on a holiday - when I met Jesus Christ.

On holiday with his parents, Pi would be drawn to a faith with a beauty of a different kind. Three hills ringed the hotel where they stayed.  Each of these hills was crowned with a place of worship: one donned a Hindu temple, another a mosque, and the third a Catholic church. Though the school he attended was nominally Christian, Pi knew little of Christianity beyond its reputation for violence and for operating good schools.  Curious, he climbed the hill to the church and wandered in.  He spied on a priest immersed in quiet study and prayer - not very violent-looking.  He moved on to the sanctuary proper and wondered at the gruesome image which hung there: a cross on which a bloodied man hung, dying. "It was hard to connect this torture scene with the priest in the rectory....Catholics have a reputation for severity, for judgment that comes down heavily.  My experience with Father Martin was not at all like that.  He was very kind."

Through the kindness and patient teaching of this priest, the reputation Pi had of the severe Catholic God was called into question. 

"That a god should put up with adversity, I could understand.  The gods of Hinduism face their fair share of thieves, bullies, kidnappers and usurpers.  What is the Ramayana but the account of one long bad day for Rama?  Adversity, yes.  Reversals of fortune, yes.  Treachery, yes.  But humiliation? Death? I couldn't imagine Lord Krishna consenting to be stripped naked, whipped, mocked, dragged through the streets and, to top it off, crucified - and at the hands of mere humans, to boot.  I'd never heard of a Hindu god dying...divinity should not be blighted by death.  It's wrong.  The world soul cannot die, even in one contained part of it.  It was wrong of this Christian God to let His avatar die.  That is tantamount to letting a part of Himself die.  For if the Son is to die, it cannot be fake.  If God on the Cross is God shamming a human tragedy, it turns the Passion of Christ into the Farce of Christ.  The death of the Son must be real. Father Martin assured me that it was.  But once a dead God, always a dead God, even resurrected.  The Son must have the taste of death forever in His mouth.  The Trinity must be tainted by it; there must be a certain stench at the right hand of God the Father.  The horror must be real.  Why would God wish that upon Himself?  Why not leave death to the mortals?  Why make dirty what is beautiful, spoil what is perfect?

"Love.  That was Father Martin's answer."

Certainly love would replace the stench and taint of death with the aroma of pleasing sacrifice. Pi grappled with the ramifications of God incarnate.  Pi's own Hindu tradition overflowed with stories.  He was certain Christianity would too.  But Father Martin taught him that the many stories of Christianity together only point to this one. "It was story enough for them." (And so it is.) 

Day after day Pi meets for tea with the priest.  Agitated, he questions Father Martin about God's very human and unimpressive Son. (Any Hindu god can do better miracles than Jesus and without so much talking and sweating.) Yet day by day he could not get this Christ out of his head:

"The more He bothered me, the less I could forget Him.  And the more I learned about Him, the less I wanted to leave Him."

On his last day of vacation, Pi ran to the priest to tell him he wanted to become a Christian.  Father Martin welcomed him happily into the faith.  Pi prayed for the first time to the living Christ, then left with a joyful heart.  He "raced down the hill on the left and raced up the hill on the right - to offer thanks to Lord Krishna for having put Jesus of Nazareth, whose humanity I found so compelling, in my way."

In less than a year we find Pi curiously exploring his hometown's Muslim quarter. "Islam had a reputation worse than Christianity's - fewer gods, greater violence, and I had never heard anyone say good things about Muslim schools."  He peeked into a mosque, then moved on to some tiny shops.  There he encountered a poor baker of flatbread, who invited him into his hovel.  It was time for the call to prayer, and  Pi stood watching.  "So it went the first time I saw a Muslim pray - quick, necessary, physical, muttered, striking.  Next time I was praying in church - on my knees, immobile, silent before Christ on the Cross - the image of this calisthenic communion with God in the middle of bags of flour kept coming to my mind." 

His name was Mr. Kumar.  (Kumar is a common surname in India.).  He was a Sufi mystic.  "He sought fana, union with God, and his relationship with God was personal and loving. 'If you take two steps toward God, God runs to you!'"  

Pi embraced Islam.  "I challenge anyone," Pi would later say, "to understand Islam, its spirit, and not to love it.  It is a beautiful religion of brotherhood and devotion."  

Piscine's conversion to Pi was but a first step on a long road of curiosity, investigation, discoveries, and conversions. Along the way he gathered and laced together beliefs, systems of thought, and perspectives on reality and used them to convert the world of his experience into something more beautiful and meaningful.  His story pleads with us to understand the human desire to gild this dismal life with the glow of faith.

His religious pursuits, I should mention, went on for quite some time unnoticed by his secular parents. The outing of his religion was a pivotal moment in his young life.  Pi and his parents were strolling one day along a beach on the Bay of Bengal. All at once, to Pi's horror, they were approached, from three different directions by a priest, a pandit, and an imam.  Each of Pi's religious leaders had spotted him at once and determined to greet him and to meet his father, the illustrious owner of the city's zoo.  In this way these secular parents and religious leaders learned that their son and pupil was not just a good Hindu boy, but also, a good Christian boy, and and a good Muslim boy to boot. A three-way argument ensued with each man of faith insulting the religion of the next until Pi's father silenced them.  

Then the pandit spoke, "'In these troubled times it's good to see a boy so keen on God.  We all agree on that.' The imam and the priest nodded. 'But he can't be a Hindu, a Christian and a Muslim.  It's impossible.  He must choose.'" A blushing Pi responded, "Bapu Gandhi said, 'All religions are true.'  I just want to love God.'"'  Unable to answer his simple zeal and unwilling to argue with Gandhi, Pi's parents gave in and allowed him to be baptized a Christian, and to obtain a Muslim prayer mat.

With this foundation laid, we come the event that will comprise bulk of the story. I've been agonizing over how to discuss it without giving up the end.  Throughout the narrative we are reminded that this story has a happy ending, so to say as much is not to spoil anything.  I will try limit myself to what you might be able to surmise from watching the movie trailer: a series of turnarounds led Pi's parents to decide it was time to sell their zoo and emigrate to Canada. They sold the animals to zoos all over the world, and then boarded a cargo ship to cross the Atlantic, bringing with them those animals which they had sold to Canadian zoos.  In rough seas, the ship sank, leaving Pi and life boat full of wild animals as the only survivors.  With him were a zebra, a hyena, an orangutan, a rat, and a large Bengal tiger named Richard Parker. 

Pi's life is now a survival epic - a brutal, sometimes beautiful, tragic, sometimes funny, months-long parable of the meaning of life and humanity - played on a massive theater of rolling seas and relentless weather.  Pi, and his boat-full of predators and prey are the players. Though there were moments that felt magical, I found little that was cute or fanciful about Life of Pi.  It is life, boiled down to its realest terrors, its glimmers of hope, its agonies, and its beauty. A little life-boat becomes a whole world of life fighting to keep living, a world of suffering, of desperation, and of faith bobbing and drifting, aimlessly and seemingly endlessly on a vast and impersonal sea. 

Like a sovereign deity, Martel artfully ensures that no detail is wasted. Every moment serves the end, and the end gives meaning to all that came before it. The rhyme and reason of it all, if there is any, will not be discovered until the very end. 

At heart, Life of Pi  is about religion. It is a passionate appeal on behalf of faith, or at the very least on behalf of religious tolerance and understanding. I found a tight and unified theory of religion at work. Every detail in Pi's story builds on it. Though Pi denies that he defends the rights of zoos to exist, implying he feels the same about religion, I think it is fair for me to say that this book is both an allegory and an apologia of faith. At the very least, it is an appeal for understanding and tolerance. Throughout the narrative we find Pi selecting from  his religions what he needs for the moment. In doing so he paints ugliness with beauty and invests chaos with meaning. In then end we are presented with two possible realities and, find ourselves along with Pi, looking back at the sea and the boat and asked to choose which story we prefer. The mind and the heart races - it is not an easy choice.

In this world where faith is ridiculed as unreasonable, where it is blamed (and often rightfully so) for all kinds of evil, it is refreshing to see religion championed and valued for its very real ability to color life - with all its pain and tragedy - with meaning, to touch it with tenderness, quiet it with peace and tickle it with delight.  I'm happy as well to see atheists and the devout placed back on the level playing field where they belong. Pi brings us all together - united in our humanity, united in our ignorance, united in our weakness - right back to square one.

In my next post I will discuss Life of Pi from a Christian perspective: its value, its challenges, and its limits.

As She Lay Dying

I wrote the following over two years ago as a private expression of grief following the death of my mother. I share it here now with the prayer that others may gain from my loss.

******

"You're a lecturer. You got that from your father."

It's something my mom used to say, usually when she didn't care for whatever it was I was going on about. Never mind that I barely knew my father. Apparently there is a "lecturer" gene, and I got it.

Maybe she had a point about the genes. Or maybe not. I don't know. But I was a lecturer, particularly where she was concerned. I'm a born know-it-all, annoying from birth. And I felt the need to correct my mother often and play the devil's advocate at any given opportunity. Deep down I just didn't have the respect for her that I should have, or a love pure enough to just let her be, to stop trying to "fix" her or set her straight, and to overlook her traits that annoyed me to no end.

Don't get me wrong. I did love my mother, and as my love for God grew, so did my respect and love for her. She suffered from depression and I wanted with all my heart to see her happy. (I cannot put to words the frustration of trying to make a depressed person happy.) And I was committed to her. I visited her 365 days a year for the last six years of her life - even more often when she was sick. I was devoted to her and yet could not just let her be.

I was arrogant.

It was never my place to "fix" my mother, as though I were the one with the power to heal her soul. I was not better than her, just different. And I don't even have the power to change my own soul.

I realized this on the morning of the day of her death. The moment I knew Mom was dying, there was no room for annoyance anymore. All my breaking heart could see was the treasure that she was. I prayed there would be moments left to tell her so. And there were. A brief few.

And now I have my whole lifetime to remember all the things I should have left unsaid. To remember her as the charming woman she so often was. To forget the annoyances and manipulations. What did those matter in the face of death? How could I have let pride and irritation rob me of a moment's love for my mother?

And that evening, after she had passed, as I drove home in the dark, I wondered why I hadn't treated her all my days with the tenderness and gentleness I did during the hours that she lay dying. Why could I not drop my pride and see her for the delicate soul, the little girl grown old, that she was? After all, like every one of us, she was dying from the moment she was conceived. Why did I wait for a doctor's verdict to face it? Why did I put the deepest of love off until the last moment? Would it really have been so hard to just love her as she was all those years?

And I thought how different things would have been if I had. And I thought...what a different place this world would be if every one treated one another as a dying soul.

And now she is gone and It is too late to honor her. But I know now, and pray I will never forget, not for a moment, that every soul I meet is terminally ill. We all lay dying.  Whether we realize it or not, our lives are precarious and we are all as fragile and helpless as my mother was that day. May God grant me grace from this day forward to treat every person I meet with the tenderness and affection I felt for her then. May I never speak a word to anyone that I would not speak as they lay dying.

Raising Horizons

Raising Horizons

(Thoughts' Captive, Conclusion*)

I've you've ever tried to comfort someone suffering from depression or anxiety, you have likely found that a few chipper words or fitting Bible verses will not be enough to snap them out of it.  Your best intentions might even have been rewarded with irritation or hostility. I know this because I've responded this way myself a time or two.  Assuming I am not unique in my experience, I will say that those who are suffering emotional distress, whether it be depression or anxiety or grief, are likely to be also suffering, even if only temporarily, from an extremely myopic worldview. Pain has a way of focusing our attention inward, onto ourselves, narrowing our field of vision until it seems that our pain is the only reality that matters. For as long as the black orb of suffering eclipses the light of hope, we must handle sufferers with grace and patience, gently meeting them where they are, guiding them by the hand if needed, until the pain abates and rays of clarity once again begin to peek through. I feel safe in saying this, because this is how God has dealt with me.  He has stooped to meet me in my place of need and tenderly guided me every step of the way.  

It has been months since my last entry in this series. Since then I have encountered some unexpected trials on top of the more ordinary ones. Through it all I've persevered in scripture, prayer, and fellowship, doing the very things I have been recommending here.  In the process, I've seen many, many prayers answered and experienced God's faithfulness firsthand.  I've sensed my roots growing steadily deeper and wider into the bedrock of Jesus Christ and the hope of his Gospel.  And as I've grown I've found myself being drawn up and out of myself.

With Christ as my horizon and hope, my perspective has changed. With my eyes fixed on Him I gain the perspective and hope I need to live a life marked by joy and purpose.  As I look to Him I began to see the big picture, to know where I am headed and to be drawn inexorably in that direction.  Each step toward that goal reinforces my hope and increases my joy.  As I've raised my horizons my day-to-day emotional life has stabilized.  My soul is quieted and peace now plays a dominant role in my heart and in my relationships. Nevertheless, all this hope and joy is not a guarantee against future emotional trauma.

The steps I've taken in this series have been the steps of toddlers just learning to walk.  They are groundbreaking and essential to further progress, but they are baby steps. Like the parent of a child who has just learned to walk, God is happy with this progress, but He is not pleased to see His children toddle forever. We must learn to walk, to run, and to plant our feet firmly enough to withstand violent attacks against our souls.

"Finally, be strong in the Lord and in the strength of his might.  Put on the whole armor of God, that you may be able to stand against the schemes of the devil.  For we do not wrestle against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the cosmic powers over this present darkness, against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly places." Eph. 6:10-12

In my earlier years I traveled in circles which gave the devil too much credit, almost as if he were on the par with God - the dark side of "the Force".  In later years, perhaps in reaction to that, I found myself traveling in circles which closeted the devil behind the doors of God's providence and sovereignty and thus, in essence, disregarded him altogether.  This, too, is a mistake. It is with good reason that the apostle Peter warns us to:

"Be sober-minded; be watchful. Your adversary the devil prowls around like a roaring lion, seeking someone to devour.  Resist him, firm in your faith, knowing that the same kinds of suffering are being experienced by your brotherhood throughout the world." 1 Peter 5:8-9

Since I've lifted up my eyes and begun following hard after Christ, I've found my faith tested and violently shaken in ways I could have never expected or predicted.  I've  learned the hard truth that when you look up and out, when you set your sights on the horizon of God's glorious kingdom, Satan looks up as well and takes notice.

Our soul has an adversary looking for any opportunity to destroy us. He will use any weapon at his disposal against us and will seek to exploit our every weakness.  He will use our thoughts to beat us down and make us useless in the battle, and he will use our actions so that we discredit ourselves in the eyes of others.  And so we cannot afford to forget, even for a moment, that we are not here on our own business. We must be vigilant and sober-minded, (this means exercising control over our minds, which are the battlefields of our souls) ambassadors for Christ, his emissaries carrying a message of peace in an enemy territory.

"Stand therefore, having fastened on the belt of truth, and having put on the breastplate of righteousness, and, as shoes for your feet, having put on the readiness given by the gospel of peace. In all circumstances take up the shield of faith, with which you can extinguish all the flaming darts of the evil one;  and take the helmet of salvation, and the sword of the Spirit, which is the word of God, praying at all times in the Spirit, with all prayer and supplication. To that end keep alert with all perseverance, making supplication for all the saints..." Eph. 6:14-18

The bad news is, the battle for emotional stability, though it ebbs and flows, will never end in this life.  The good news is that God, by His grace, has given us all the equipment we need to persevere to the end.  It is, however, up to us to engage in the fight.


* This is a heavily re-written version of an entry I posted a few months ago. After a serious and unexpected spiritual battle (an episode of acute anxiety) I revisited it and did not care for it's tone. It seemed to imply that if you have your sights set on Christ your emotional battles are over, when the truth is we have only just begun to fight.     

On Samaritans and Scoffers

I know am about to run the risk of being labeled a stick-in-the-mud, but  it's a chance I'll have to take.  There are some things more important in life than humor, and the gospel is one of them.  If I didn't think this was a gospel matter I wouldn't be bothering about it at all.  So here goes.

There is a meme floating around on the internet.  It is being passed around and "liked" by Christian people which is, again, the only reason I'm bothering to address this at all.  We Christians are gospel people - or at least that is what we are called to be.  We are not our own. We represent Christ on this earth, so our behavior, even the the act of "liking" things on Facebook, reflects on the message we are here to present to the world.

The text of the meme, in case you can't read the fine print in the picture, runs like this:

Hi Friend,

I just wanted to let you know that some knucklehead vandalized your car by slapping an Obama sticker on it.  The last thing you want is to be driving around all day looking like an idiot.

Take Care,
A Good Samaritan

The import of this little note, though couched in indirect language, is obvious.  It is using friendly language to send a hostile message.  It is calling the supporters of this politician (who also happens to be the sitting President of this nation) idiots. The act of photographing it and putting it out on the internet signals another intent: to gather up laughter, and thus support, in calling Obama supporters idiots.  This person is scoffing at the President and his supporters.  Our laughter in response reveals that this scoffing resonates with us, and it makes us scoffers too.

"The devising of folly is sin, and the scoffer is an abomination to mankind."  Proverbs 24:9

I've noticed that some Christians these days seem quite fond of referring to certain sins as "abominations".  Though I think we are often less than prudent and far less than loving in our use of such language, the fact remains that our Bible does label some sins in this manner. But let me ask you this: when was the last time you heard a Christian decrying scoffing as an abomination?

Yet, the Bible has a surprising amount to say about scoffers, and none of it good.

The truth is, even though I don't have cable or satellite TV, don't listen to partisan talk-radio, and regulate my media intake via selective internet use, still I am exposed to scoffing every day.  I'm quite certain we all are.  We live in a culture of mockery and scoffing.  It is in the air we breathe. It is the stuff, the veritable backbone, of our media and entertainment, and most especially of our humor.  There are few forces more powerful than humor.  Its very nature is to surprise us, bypassing the guards of our hearts and throwing open the closets where we hide what we really think and how we really feel. When we laugh at a joke, it is because it is speaking our emotional language.  Therefore, the things we find amusing reveal a lot about our character.  Scoffing is the dark side of humor. When we scoff, or when we laugh with scoffers, we are taking pleasure in tearing others down.

“Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you, so that you may be sons of your Father who is in heaven."  Matthew 5:44

You cannot love people and tear them down at the same time.

"Honor everyone. Love the brotherhood. Fear God. Honor the emperor." 1 Peter 2:17

You cannot honor people and insult them at the same time.  

When we Christians engage in scoffing, we reveal our willingness to engage in ad hominem attacks, we insult those with whom we disagree, and we forfeit all hope of changing their minds or winning their hearts.  We undermine our trustworthiness in the eyes of those we offend, misrepresent the God we serve, and discredit our testimony as Christians in their eyes. 

 Without love we cannot lead anyone to Christ. 

“The one who showed him mercy.”

Finally, I found the greatest offense as a Christian was to see the signature "Good Samaritan" taken up by a person in the act of scoffing at a stranger.  The expression itself comes from a story told by Jesus Christ in response to a man who was hoping to get out of having to love people he doesn't want to love.  Jesus had just told him that in order to inherit eternal life he must love God with all his heart and love his neighbor as he loves himself. So the man asked, “And who is my neighbor?”  Jesus responded with the story of a Samaritan (a deeply despised kind of person regarded as immoral and traitorous by the Jews), a good Samaritan, who took care of a wounded man who had been ignored by all the respectable passersby.  The impact of the story on the young man would have been much like the impact on a Republican being told this compassionate stranger was Obama himself.  The writer of this note, wittingly or not, is making a mockery of what it means to be a Good Samaritan.

We are nearing the end of another heated election year and yet again I find myself distressed by the behavior of Christians on both sides of the political divide.  (Yes, there really are committed Christians in both parties, and thank God for it, since people on both sides need Jesus!)  And I am seeing Christians on both sides allow their political opinions to undermine the fruit of the Spirit and the work of the gospel in their lives and relationships. I ask and challenge you, my brothers and sisters in Christ, no matter what your political tendencies, to leave all un-Christlike behavior (all scoffing, mocking, insults, slander, malice, envy, etc.) out of your lives and any political discourse you may engage in.  It might help you to do this if you keep in mind that our kingdom is not of this world.  (If it were, Christ would have commanded us to fight.) The stakes of our temporal politics are only temporal, and salvation will never come through political conquest and domination, but through the proclamation of the gospel.  Indeed, Christ's power in us is manifested best when we are weak.

We cannot afford to be like those whose mind is set on earthly things. Our citizenship is in heaven and from it we await a Savior, the Lord Jesus Christ. In His time He will subject all things to himself.

Graced Again

Thanks to Graced Again (and John Calvin of course) for this little gem:

“To make this intelligible, we must return to the distinction between flesh and spirit, to which we have already adverted, and which here becomes most apparent. The believer finds within himself two principles: the one filling him with delight in recognizing the divine goodness, the other filling him with bitterness under a sense of his fallen state; the one leading him to recline on the promise of the Gospel, the other alarming him by the conviction of his iniquity; the one making him exult with the anticipation of life, the other making him tremble with the fear of death. This diversity is owing to imperfection of faith, since we are never so well in the course of the present life as to be entirely cured of the disease of distrust, and completely replenished and engrossed by faith…Though we are distracted by various thoughts, it does not follow that we are immediately divested of faith. Though we are agitated and carried to and fro by distrust, we are not immediately plunged into the abyss; though we are shaken, we are not therefore driven from our place. The invariable issue of the contest is, that faith in the long run surmounts the difficulties by which it was beset and seemed to be endangered. John Calvin, Institutes, 3.2.18 

You can sign up here to receive a reminder of grace every week from Graced Again.  The quotes come from a variety of sources and seldom fail to encourage.

Spiritual Depression

Due to an absolutely unexpected (aren't they all?) spiritual crisis, I was recently reminded to re-read a book I read about seven years ago. It has helped me immensely, cutting to the heart of my trouble within the first few chapters and giving me the tools use to combat my out-of-control thoughts. I can recommend it more highly than anything I've written here. In fact, if you struggle with depression, or are in a crisis of your own, I recommend you read this book immediately. This is the first and only book on the subject of depression/spiritual warfare that has ever been of any help to me. It is far more useful than anything I've ever written here (and tempts me to delete all my own writings on the subject!).

To You, O Lord*

To you, O Lord, I lift up my soul.

You are my greatest fear

and my only hope.

O my God, in you I trust;

     let me not be put to shame;

     let not my enemies exult over me.

Though the thought of you

fills me with dread,

Still, my heart cries to you.

Indeed, none who wait for you shall be put to shame;

    they shall be ashamed who are wantonly treacherous.

Meet not my hope with shame.

Lord, though full of sin and confusion, my heart yearns for you alone, 

for your embrace, your smile, your words of comfort. 

Make me to know your ways, O Lord;

    teach me your paths.

Lead me in your truth and teach me,

    for you are the God of my salvation;

    for you I wait all the day long.

Dear Lord, don't leave me waiting, fainting and helpless.

Lead me, but gently, down paths not too hard 

for I am weak and frightened, and it is dark.

Remember your mercy, O Lord, and your steadfast love,

     for they have been from of old.

You have always cared for me, even while I walked in rebellion.

Why can I not believe you forgive me now?

Remember not the sins of my youth or my transgressions;

    according to your steadfast love remember me,

    for the sake of your goodness, O Lord!

Dear Father, if You count them up there will be no hope. I will be forever lost.

Forget for ever the sins of my life, that torrent which threatens to flood back and drown me.

Hold them against me no more. 

Let me hide in Your Son. Let me know I am safe with Him.

Good and upright is the Lord;

    therefore he instructs sinners in the way.

He leads the humble in what is right,

    and teaches the humble his way.

It is true that you are good, but I am not.

I lie here broken, helpless, afraid of your goodness,

Teach me what is good about you. Teach me how you forgive.

All the paths of the Lord are steadfast love and faithfulness,

    for those who keep his covenant and his testimonies.

But what of me, full of doubt and fear, afraid to believe?

My faith is flagging?

Will your love for me fail as well?

Dear God, don't desert me in my weakness.

For your name's sake, O Lord,

    pardon my guilt, for it is great.

Who is the man who fears the Lord?

"For your name's sake..."

Oh Lord, what does this mean?

After years of sin, it is I who fear.

I have no right to your love, your pardon.

I tremble at the thought of your displeasure, your rejection.

But I bear the name of Christ....

for His sake, in His name, I beg it.

    Him will he instruct in the way that he should choose.

His soul shall abide in well-being,

    and his offspring shall inherit the land.

The friendship of the Lord is for those who fear him,

    and he makes known to them his covenant.

Restore my faith, Oh God! 

Open my eyes and pour light into the darkness of my heart.

Restore the joy I once knew,

the hope as I looked into your loving face.

My eyes are ever toward the Lord,

    for he will pluck my feet out of the net.

Turn to me and be gracious to me,

    for I am lonely and afflicted.

The troubles of my heart are enlarged;

    bring me out of my distresses.

Consider my affliction and my trouble,

    and forgive all my sins.

Consider how many are my foes,

    and with what violent hatred they hate me.

Oh, guard my soul, and deliver me!

     Let me not be put to shame, for I take refuge in you.

May integrity and uprightness preserve me,

    for I wait for you.

Redeem Israel, O God,

    out of all his troubles.

And redeem me!

*Psalm 24, a prayer of David, mingled with one of my own.

The Mission in the Mirror*

Like David, I groan under the weight of blasphemy and scorn,

of assaults on my faith that come day and night,

    my adversaries taunt me,

while they say to me all the day long,

    "Where is your God?"

Where are you, God, while they mock?  

Should I be oppressed while they laugh with glee?

The doubts within echo the atheist taunts, 

but meet faith in my heart and cry out in prayer:

I say to God, my rock:

    "Why have you forgotten me?

Why do I go mourning

    because of the oppression of the enemy?"

As with a deadly wound in my bones...

 What if they are right, and there is no You? 

Worse yet, what if there is a You, but You don't care about me? 

You, my God, are my only hope!  

I have nothing apart from You.

As a deer pants for flowing streams,

    so pants my soul for you, O God.

My soul thirsts for God,

    for the living God.

If  I could just hear your voice, louder than mocking,

If I could see your face and know that when You look at me You smile.

The aching would cease and the tears turn to joy.

When shall I come and appear before God?

My tears have been my food

 day and night,

while they say to me all the day long,

    "Where is your God?"

The face I see is mine, in the mirror.

It reminds me of life before I knew You.

It takes me back through days and weeks,

through years of protection and answered prayers.

By day the Lord commands his steadfast love,

    and at night his song is with me,

    a prayer to the God of my life.

I see the lives transformed, mine and others, the souls set free

and remember your faithfulness through the darkest of times,

I look into the windows of my eyes and wonder:

Why are you cast down, O my soul,

    and why are you in turmoil within me?

Hope in God; for I shall again praise him,

    my salvation and my God.

*  A reflection on Psalm 42

The Long Dark Night

"...they who wait for the LORD shall renew their strength;

they shall mount up with wings like eagles..." (Isaiah 40:31a)

In spite of the medication the nurses gave her to sleep, she lay awake all night, crying out to God, praying, and crying some more.  Even the pills could not drug it away.  The truth of her situation could no longer be denied.  She was never going home again.  This place was her home now.  She had been here for weeks, sinking into herself, dying.

It depressed her: the woman carrying the giant crazy stuffed bird-thing everywhere, even to meals; the hunched  man in a ball-cap wheeling from room to room, even in the wee small hours of the morning, mindless; the rest lined up in front of the nurses' station, waiting for something, anything, to happen; the cold coffee; the dry cake.  Stuck for the rest of life in this hole, waiting to die.

Morning overtook the long dark night and brought with it a gift, a friend.  She wept prayers into her open arms. Two huddled praying against the horrors of life, old age, and death.

 "'You are my servant,

I have chosen you and not cast you off';

fear not, for I am with you;

be not dismayed, for I am your God;

I will strengthen you, I will help you,

I will uphold you with my righteous hand." (Isaiah 41:9b,10)

She combed her hair and looked around.  Who were these people?  Her roommates, that's right.  She would learn their names now, work hard to remember them. She would tell them about Jesus. She would put on her glasses for the first time in weeks and open her Bible.  What day was it?  Wednesday?  Another friend comes on Wednesday. She fixed her hair.  She would recognize her friend this time, and remember her name.  She would be ready to go for a walk.  She would remember again how to play their favorite game.  She would tell this friend of God's kindness, how He had not forgotten her in the dark weeks of her soul. She would tell her how, in the praying arms of a friend, He had filled her heart with hope.

"Why?"

I remember well that age when my children began asking "Why?"

Now, I'm not referring to that cute and occasionally annoying toddler stage that little ones go through as soon as they learn that a "Why?" guarantees some kind of response.  At that age, I'm not even sure they understand what they are asking.  I do believe, however, such repeated questioning lays the foundation for understanding logic, and for future decision-making.  It also represents the early stages of understanding that other people are, well, other people. These are the innocent beginnings of a quest for understanding.

No, the asking "Why?" I have in mind comes later, and is less innocent.  This "Why?" is asked not to gain understanding so much as to gain an advantage.  This "Why?" is asked with the intent of getting around the will of other person - usually a parent, teacher, or other authority figure.

"It's time to do your homework,"  Mommy says.

"Why?" replies Precious One.

"Because it's not going to do itself," chirps Mommy.

"But, why can't I do it later?"

"Because if you don't do it now, you'll be too tired later, or you may not have enough time to finish before bedtime," answers Mommy.

"But I'm not at all tired, and I know it's easy work.  It'll only take a little while...."

You get the idea. The point of the child's questioning here is not to gain understanding, per se.  The point is that the child does not want to do homework. The question is a tool to get out of doing it, to draw out reasons which can then be shot down, undermining the position of the authority, and hopefully weakening their resolve. Any understanding gained will only be used to further the argument and hopefully gain the upper hand.

It's been a while since I've had little ones at home, but I still hear my share of this kind of questioning.  Sadly, I now hear it all too often from Christians, and it is usually directed at God, and His Word.  The questions are asked to undermine His character, or the reliability of His word and so to justify disregarding or disobeying it.

There is an innocent "Why?"  It is the "Why?" of belief.  There is a sinful  "Why?" It is the "Why?" of unbelief.  The "Why?" of belief seeks understanding. It wants to know God better. It also respects his authority. It is willing to accept His response and, if it is a directive, obey it.  It is also willing to accept when God does not, for whatever reason, see fit to offer an explanation.  The "Why?" of unbelief seeks reasons and excuses to disregard God and His word.

Do you have a "Why?" for God today?  Which kind of "Why?" is it?

Jesus, My Joy

Paul and I feel blessed to attend a church whose pastor also happens to be a violinist with our local symphony. This past Sunday evening our usual service was preempted by our local chamber choral's performance of Bach's, Jesu, Meine Freude (Jesus, My Joy), and Haydn's, Heiligmesse.  Our pastor would be performing with the orchestra, but rather than just having someone else substitute for him at church, he cancelled the service and urged us all to attend the concert instead.  Then he took the opportunity to give us a lesson in music appreciation, and much more.  He dedicated the Sunday evening service a week prior to walking us through Bach's motet, explaining its structure, background, and rich meaning.  He left us with hearts aching to see such dedication to creating art for the glory of God revived in His church in our times, and really, really excited for the upcoming performance.

And, on a geeky note, as a person who likes very much to interact in my own writing with the writings of others, I was tickled to learn that  in Jesu, Meine Freude was Bach's own interaction with an existing hymn by the same name written by Johann Franck.  Bach begins with Franck's text and weaves it together with passages from the eighth chapter of Romans, blending a sermon with music which will deliver it straight to the heart.





On the evening of the concert, which was held at the Catholic church downtown, Paul and I were so eager that we got there 50 minutes early. This gave us plenty of time to read the program, which provided historical background as well as the English translation of Bach's German and Haydn's Latin.  I knew that Bach was a Lutheran and a man of vibrant faith.  The program notes, however, seemed to be written from a secular perspective.  I say this mainly because the writer seemed puzzled that what Bach had written as a "memorial to the recently departed" could sound so "celebratory."  What really struck me about this, and the reason I bring it up, is that this person clearly struggled to find a context for Bach's joy in the face of death:

 "The Lutheran ideal of death as a release from the pains and difficulties of life's suffering is more easily understood when we examine the lives of those in times, places, or situations other than our own.  The 18th-century perspective on death must surely have been affected by the frequency with which it was confronted. Bach himself buried more than ten of his children." 

Indeed! Bach fathered twenty children, seven with his first wife and thirteen with his second.  Out of the twenty, only half survived to adulthood. I understand what this writer is getting at. It is true that we, overall, are living longer and easier lives. But regardless of our "time, place, and situation", the fact remains that the death rate has not changed since Bach's day, and, truth be told, life is still full of suffering for the majority of those living it. Even so, by and large, suffering or not, we fight tooth and nail put off death for as long as we can.  Death was the great enemy of man in Bach's time and it remains so today.  In fact, as a Lutheran, and a man devoted to Scripture, Bach would not have viewed death merely as a release from the hardship of life.  He believed that death was serious business, not because it was the end of life, but because after it came God's judgment, "the day of wrath when God's righteous judgment will be revealed.  He will render to each one according to his works..."(Rom. 2:5b,6).

No, to find the key to Bach's triumphant tone in the face of suffering and death, and to find the key for our own, one need only listen to the words of his music.

Jesus, my joy, my heart's delight, Jesus my treasure!

Ah, how long? Ah, long has my heart troubled and longed for you!

God's lamb, my bridegroom, besides You on earth nothing shall be dearer to me.

Now there is nothing damnable in those who are in Christ Jesus,

who do not walk after the way of the flesh, but after the way of the spirit.

Under your protection I am safe from the storms of all enemies.

Let Satan rage, let the enemy fume, Jesus stands with me.

Whether now it thunders and flashes, whether sin and Hell terrify, Jesus will protect me.

For the law of the spirit, which gives life in Christ Jesus,

Has made me free from the law of sin and death.

Defiance to the old dragon, defiance to the vengeance of death, defiance to fear as well!

Rage, world, and attack; I stand here and sing in entirely secure peace!

God's strength holds me in watch; earth and abyss must fall silent, however much they might rumble.

You, however, are not of the flesh, but rather of the Spirit,

since the Spirit of God lives in otherwise in you.

Anyone, however, who does not have Christ's Spirit, is not His.

Away with all treasures, you are my delight, Jesus, my joy!

Away, you vain honors; I don't want to listen to you; remain unknown to me!

Misery, want, torture, shame and death shall, although I must suffer much, never part me from Jesus.

However if Christ is in you, then the body is dead indeed for the sake of sin;

but the spirit is life for the sake of righteousness.

Good night, existence that cherishes the world! You do not please me.

Good night, sins, stay far away, never again come to light!

Good night, pride and glory! To you utterly; life of corruption, be good night given!

If the spirit of him who has raised Jesus from the dead dwells in you,

So will the same one who has raised Christ from the dead,

bring life to your mortal bodies, because of His spirit that dwells in you.

Give way, you spirits of grief, for the Lord of joy, Jesus enters in.

For those who love God, even their sorrow must be of pure sweetness.

Even if I must endure mockery and scorn, yet you remain, even in suffering, Jesus my joy!*

In Christ, all of life has meaning.  In Christ even suffering can be rich.  In Christ there is triumph over sin and victory in death.  The answer to it all is Jesus, My Joy!  When Jesus is your joy in life, He will be your joy in death as well.


*There are other English translations available on the internet.  I've merely copied the text provided in the concert program.