More Than a Carpenter

I recently finished More Than a Carpenter by Josh McDowell. A youth minister gave me a copy of that book 15 years ago, and what parts of it I read haunted me in the section of my life when I wanted God to leave me alone. Still, all the best reasoning and evidence in the world is useless unless the Father who sent Jesus draws us (John 6:44). Reasoning void of the experiential is vanity. Some people report flipping the Bible open at random and being shown exactly what they need. What I find more beautiful is that I can set out reading the bible very systematically every day for years and sovereign God arranges for whatever section I am on to speak to me or coincide with what I need that day. In pursuing my religious studies minor, I was exposed occasionally to questions and arguments contrary to a Biblical perspective, and for which I wasn't smart enough to reason out the answers on my own. That year of college remains invaluable to me. I remember one sunny day at the fountain on campus praying to God about these conundrums, then opening the Word to the pre-determined segment of scripture I was to read, in John 6. Jesus asks the 12 disciples after some hard teaching, "You don't want to leave me too, do you?" John 6:68 reports, "Simon Peter answered him, 'Lord, to whom shall we go? You have the words of eternal life.'" I was smiling and crying, because his answer became my answer, and remains so, in a divinely profound way. McDowell writes, "Christianity is not a religion; it's not a system; it's not an ethical idea; it's not a psychological phenomenon. It's a person. If you trust Christ, start watching your attitudes and actions because Jesus Christ is in the business of changing lives." (p 119). While skeptics continue to look at church buildings and insist that Christianity divides people, those of us following and loving and being loved by the living Jesus Christ are meeting brothers and sisters in His kingdom wherever we go. Brian and Tara Riley exemplify this in their mission experience. They told of Jesus' people from every denomination seeking Him in unity. The Holy Spirit is not at all confined by our church building walls, and His movement perhaps borders on heresy. The Riley's, beautiful fascinating people, are a part of it, and I want to be a part of it. God is cutting edge and I can't wait to see what He does next. Meeting these missionaries gave me a joy that reminded me, in the midst of some sadness that Jesus brings not peace but a sword between me and some who reject Him, to keep my eyes on His kingdom, lest I miss the beauty and blessing of this new and ever-growing family He has adopted me into.

Skateboarding

Ditch and I went skateboarding one night, jumping down stairs and popping ollies over curbs and such. Ditch is really good. I am okay sometimes. I think I do well for a 29 year old who has been skateboarding with any real dedication for less than a year. Whenever I'm having fun on my skateboard, I praise Jesus, because I consider it a gift from Him. I have felt like giving up more than once, until praying to the God who renews our strength (Isaiah 40:31), who even told me I would skateboard about a year and a half before I could afford a good board. Ditch and I found a really good spot at a big church, which was really productive until we noticed the "no skateboards" sign. I was hesitant to leave, but I didn't want to offend anyone, and I definitely didn't want to be a bad example to Ditch, who has yet to receive Jesus. He seemed to be waiting on my decision; it was entirely my call. I ollied down the steps on my way out.
More recently, Josh and I were at a little church where we'd just finished playing bass and guitar, respectively, for their multi-night revival. It was the final night and I'd been casing the parking lot for two nights; there was a low wall with a maybe two feet drop-off on the other side, and I wanted to ollie it. First we hit the kitchen and scored some strawberry cake. It was late and most everyone had left. Josh had already told me he used to be able to ollie down about 12 steps at a time when he was the age that normal people skateboard, so I knew whatever happened wouldn't be too impressive, but I was already committed. I'd landed something similar though smaller before in a parking lot where we'd randomly pulled the van over because smoke was coming out of the dash. This night I barely launched, much less landed. So it goes.

Universalism

Many people I meet probably float in the pool of universalism. Consistent denial of the supernatural simply requires more angst than is often sustainable, but the even bigger problem is that of death. Nothing disrupts our mazeway like the curse of death. So, in order to restore comprehension to our cosmos, we eventually succumb to some form of spirituality, some belief in an afterlife, whether by adopting an already established religion or by designing our own. The latter, I think, is increasingly popular, usually manifesting as universalism in one form or another. Universalism avoids the hard theological questions such as "What happens to the heathen who never hears of our Messiah?" We had lunch with some friends, not all Bible-believing, and someone said, "I can't believe in a religion that says Gandhi goes to hell." Laura said, "No one said hell was for bad people." But really, we're all bad people. I looked in the university library for some theological work of William Channing, credited with having much influence on the formation of Unitarianism. I found only humanitarian related commentary among his writings.
Hell is a hard thought. If the "Noble Savage" really does exist, surely loving God can impart to him righteousness as He can an unknowing child. I have much greater concern for my dear friends who consciously and persistently reject so great a salvation through Jesus Christ.

The Misery of Agnosticism

I made an attempt at atheism, influenced by a few different contributing factors. One was the circle of flavorful people I'd met who seemed apathetic if not incredulous toward the God I'd learned about in church. Then there were those in church who seemed equally apathetic, if not mean. Also, there is of course the persistent inundation of introductory level science that always left the impression that man has it all figured out, and complex life is not so complex, but sprouts like bread mold under the right conditions. At any rate, my attempt was short-lived. Atheism would be impossible to maintain without ample doses of misinformation and a strict adherence to daily rigorous exercises in closed-mindedness. The spiritual is simply too obvious, whether in order in the cosmos, beauty in creation, a miracle in a hospital or a timely word from a friend or stranger. And so I arrived at agnosticism, perhaps the most miserable of all religious points of view. Militant skepticism avails itself no pleasure, or at least rest for the mind, in the beauty of nature, or purpose in life, or faith in truth, lest one be deceived. Yet surely there would be more peace in being sincerely wrong than in the constant distrust of experience, emotions, or knowledge. While agnosticism feigns open-mindedness, it is actually a stubborn refusal to reach some informed conclusion. At last I'd indulged the nagging suspicion that God wasn't there, only to be confronted with the nagging dread that He was. I was haunted most by the empty tomb of Jesus of Nazareth. It loomed occasionally in my mind, inexplicable, indismissable, a reminder of a real and personal God, who was "pleased to have all His fullness dwell in (Jesus) and through Him to reconcile to Himself all things, by making peace through His blood, shed on the cross" Colossians 1:19-20.

The Simple Life of the Atheist

Life might be simpler if I could be convinced to be an atheist. I wouldn't have to think so hard. I could smugly reduce all religious experience to the power of suggestion, morality to superstitious tradition. Maybe I could use people's religious convictions to manipulate them and have my way. It would be perfectly acceptable for me to be as aloof and inconsiderate as I tend to be; and much more so. In fact, regarding nature, or more specifically random chance and survival of the fittest, as the highest authority, that would be the only reasonable behavior to exhibit. Nevertheless, many atheists seem to spend much time attempting to convince themselves and others that we don't need a god to motivate us toward good deeds and being nice, which would seem to me to be an exercise in hypocrisy. Their altruism betrays the Tao, the Absolute Morality, the crucified and resurrected Messiah from whom all charity and self-sacrificing flow, and perhaps their fear of that Truth. Perhaps we find that helping out our neighbor adds meaning to an otherwise pointless existence in an accidental universe, but for the atheist to do so is to defy the highest authority, which mandates that I allow the weak to be eaten if I don't eat them myself. The Law of Conservation of Mass and Energy tells us everything is winding down, and so the chief end of everything in the universe is to collapse and implode into non-existence. Life would be simpler without heaven, hell, and the God who calls to us, "Here am I, here am I. All day long I have held out my hands to an obstinate people, who walk in ways not good, pursuing their own imaginations." Isaiah 65:2

I think I can, I think I can, I think I can...

I wonder how long I could convince myself that a pleasant life was the product of my positive thinking. I can make healthful, disciplined choices about my diet and activities. I can make informed decisions to hopefully procure future economic viability, but that always involves uncertainty. An upbeat attitude, or even faith in some higher power, can help us overcome illness or addiction. But that is virtually nothing in light of all time, space and energy in the universe. Whatever I suspect that I know or that I am capable of must be purely by the grace of God. I had no control over my arrival and placement in the vast universe, and I have minimal control over the six billion people I share the planet with. All the positive thinking in the world won't stop us from getting old, or getting run over or killed in some mishap. Positive thinking has never caused me to be able to grow a full beard, or caused my very straight hair to dreadlock, in spite of my preferences. Positive thinking, whatever power may exist therein, is certainly nothing worth designing a religion around or making an idol out of, though it is an attractively self-gratifying, perhaps self-justifying concept for those of us born beautiful, intelligent, and in the peak time and location of all human civilization. Life and social stability are far too precarious to take credit for, or to take for granted. A more significant observation than this is that the closer I walk with Jesus, the more I recognize that there is no positive thinking apart from Him. My mostly pleasant life has still been accompanied by a plethora of negativity on my part. "I know that nothing good lives in me, that is, in my sinful nature" (Romans 7:18).