In the pursuit of truth and justice and love and all those things we aspire (or should aspire) for, I often see people fall prey to what I call "the other cliff." My analogy goes like this:
We're all hiking along this narrow path that has a cliff on either side of it. At some point, one guy steps too far to the left and falls off the cliff. A number of people notice that someone just fell off the cliff on the left, and worried about doing the same, they move towards the right and a some of them step too far and fall off the cliff on the right. This is not missed by a large number of the other hikers, many who veer left and off that cliff. Pretty soon everyone is yelling at the other side, warning them about the one cliff while at the same time backing off the cliff on their own side. The moral of the story is: Avoiding one error often leads to another.
I would point to political debate as a prime example of this. Some Fox News commentators seems to me to be especially guilty of this, accusing others are becoming Socialists and Nazis to scare you away from considering their beliefs as an option (though I may point to Fox News because I've it more than others). Liberals in turn will accuse conservatives of pandering to big business, being ungenerous, uncaring etc. I'm not really sure what the current attacks are, but it seems that many of the loud voices on TV are trying to scare you away from one of the cliffs. What they wont admit is that the only way to guarantee you are not being too liberal (or conseravive) is by being too conservative (or liberal). They ask you to flee the one while hiding the danger of the other. The answer is that we can't find the right path by avoiding wrong ones, we have to focus on figuring out what is actually right.
Or look at it this way. Imagine we are trying to get to the top of a mountain with the conservative folly on one side and the liberal folly on the other. If you are on the liberal folly side, the only way to get to the top is to get closer to the conservative folly side and vice-versa. In fact, you can never get closer to the top without also getting closer to some error.
Now, I am not suggesting that the answer is to be "moderate." Trying to avoid being extreme doesn't help avoid errors unless you happen to have a full grasp of all possible errors you could be making. Besides, "moderate" isn't really a position and aiming for it quickly becomes nonsensical. Should you try to be extremely moderate or should you instead focus on being moderately moderate?
Each issue will have to be looked at independently (ie. don't just swallow your political party's platform whole) and the correct path is always on the verge of all sorts of errors. As we are not going to walk perfectly, every mistep we make will be into some error, but we must walk the path as best we can. So whatever the dangers are (being too conservative or liberal, immodest or prudish, generous or stingy, brutally honest or diplomatic, naive or cynical, emotional or rational, etc.), you cannot believe or behave as you aught by trying to avoid error. Instead you must focus your energies on finding what is right and true without fearing the dangerous errors you must step within an inch of to get there.
Tuesday, April 20, 2010
Tuesday, April 6, 2010
Can you stand the suffering of Jesus?
It is a bit late to be bringing up the movie "The Passion of the Christ," both because it came out 6 years ago, and because it's already after Easter this year. Oh well.
I was talking with a friend and remembering how, at the time, he said that every Christian should watch it and not look away. I think it had something to do with us having an obligation to try to comprehend the sufferings of Jesus. My friend has since changed his mind on the matter, but I thought it was interesting and wanted to write up my thoughts on why this view is wrong.
My response to this is that Jesus suffered for our sins so that we wouldn't have to. Now, seeing his sufferings (in the movie in this instance) is different that being the one who suffers, but still there is a certain amount of identification that goes into watching someone suffer on film. If someone, while watching it, turns away saying, "I can't watch, it's too much for me to bear," I find that perfectly appropriate. Jesus suffered more than we can take in, and I don't think it's wrong to admit that. More importantly though, Jesus suffered, not with the purpose of forcing us to watch it, but for the purpose of relieving our suffering. I think it is good to ponder the sacrifice of Jesus and what he has done for us, but we shouldn't make everything gloomy. We must also enjoy the freedom that he paid for.
If you can take in all the sufferings of Jesus without flinching, how bad could it really have been?
I was talking with a friend and remembering how, at the time, he said that every Christian should watch it and not look away. I think it had something to do with us having an obligation to try to comprehend the sufferings of Jesus. My friend has since changed his mind on the matter, but I thought it was interesting and wanted to write up my thoughts on why this view is wrong.
My response to this is that Jesus suffered for our sins so that we wouldn't have to. Now, seeing his sufferings (in the movie in this instance) is different that being the one who suffers, but still there is a certain amount of identification that goes into watching someone suffer on film. If someone, while watching it, turns away saying, "I can't watch, it's too much for me to bear," I find that perfectly appropriate. Jesus suffered more than we can take in, and I don't think it's wrong to admit that. More importantly though, Jesus suffered, not with the purpose of forcing us to watch it, but for the purpose of relieving our suffering. I think it is good to ponder the sacrifice of Jesus and what he has done for us, but we shouldn't make everything gloomy. We must also enjoy the freedom that he paid for.
If you can take in all the sufferings of Jesus without flinching, how bad could it really have been?
Even if Piper doesn't get Ecclesiastes...
I argued here in defense of Ecclesiastes, specifically in reaction to Pipers claim that it is "bad theology."
Well, last week Piper announced that he was taking a leave of absence, specifically attempting to step back from "productivity." I had argued that, "my doing good, enjoying God's gifts and doing the work God has given me doesn't require that my efforts produce something that lasts under the sun." As I can't depend on what I am able to produce, I am freed up to alternatively rest and work hard, not being too focused on what I produce or driven to be productive. Piper mentions that he spent his last sabbatical writing a book a book, but this time he is going to actively avoid "productivity:"
So even if Piper thinks Ecclesiastes is just bad theology, I am still glad to see that he is embracing one of the main lessons I draw from it. I wish him well and that he finds delight in his rest.
Well, last week Piper announced that he was taking a leave of absence, specifically attempting to step back from "productivity." I had argued that, "my doing good, enjoying God's gifts and doing the work God has given me doesn't require that my efforts produce something that lasts under the sun." As I can't depend on what I am able to produce, I am freed up to alternatively rest and work hard, not being too focused on what I produce or driven to be productive. Piper mentions that he spent his last sabbatical writing a book a book, but this time he is going to actively avoid "productivity:"
In 30 years, I have never let go of the passion for public productivity. In this leave, I intend to let go of all of it. No book-writing. No sermon preparation or preaching. No blogging. No Twitter. No articles. No reports. No papers. And no speaking engagements.
So even if Piper thinks Ecclesiastes is just bad theology, I am still glad to see that he is embracing one of the main lessons I draw from it. I wish him well and that he finds delight in his rest.
Wednesday, March 17, 2010
Ruining Everything
God keeps our ruining everything from ruining everything. He's in control and has it all figured out. He's already taken into account all our mistakes and even outright evil choices. So when you've ruined everything, take heart!: you haven't ruined everything.
Sunday, March 14, 2010
I Think and Therefore I Am
Here's something I wrote a while ago and never figured out what to do with, so I thought I'd post it here.
I Think and Therefore I Am
by Kyle
"I think and therefore I am,"
thought the creature half-human, half-lamb,
as he went on his way
on a glorious day,
and through a great river he swam.
But struck by a horrible thought,
he discovered, "I'm actually not!"
And starting to cry
as the river went by,
he concluded, "Descartes is pure rot!"
The author, without speaking, said,
(for everything was in his head),
"The things that you say
are yours, in a way,
but in truth are from me instead."
The creature, with this new thought, cried,
"I wish I was real!" and he sighed.
"But wait! Don't you see!
You could be like me,
and therefore not real!" he replied.
The author, at this, was confused,
though clearly, he can be excused.
"You think, so do I.
You aren't, but then why
do I think that I am?" he mused.
The author said, "well, this is new.
It appears that I'm fictional too!
Above there must be
another like me,
who's making me do all I do.
"But what if it keeps going higher,
more authors stacked like a tall spire?
It goes out of sight,
to an infinite height,
and never an end to expire.
"There must be someone at the top
though that makes infinity pop.
One day past forever,
is not, nor has never,
been real; there should be no stop.
"And even if that one should try
to visit us, could he defy
the logical trap
of the infinite gap?"
said the author. He heard no reply.
And I, who dreamed all of this up,
am sad as I sip from my cup.
In fiction, you see,
there's no way to be
a part of the world you made up.
I Think and Therefore I Am
by Kyle
"I think and therefore I am,"
thought the creature half-human, half-lamb,
as he went on his way
on a glorious day,
and through a great river he swam.
But struck by a horrible thought,
he discovered, "I'm actually not!"
And starting to cry
as the river went by,
he concluded, "Descartes is pure rot!"
The author, without speaking, said,
(for everything was in his head),
"The things that you say
are yours, in a way,
but in truth are from me instead."
The creature, with this new thought, cried,
"I wish I was real!" and he sighed.
"But wait! Don't you see!
You could be like me,
and therefore not real!" he replied.
The author, at this, was confused,
though clearly, he can be excused.
"You think, so do I.
You aren't, but then why
do I think that I am?" he mused.
The author said, "well, this is new.
It appears that I'm fictional too!
Above there must be
another like me,
who's making me do all I do.
"But what if it keeps going higher,
more authors stacked like a tall spire?
It goes out of sight,
to an infinite height,
and never an end to expire.
"There must be someone at the top
though that makes infinity pop.
One day past forever,
is not, nor has never,
been real; there should be no stop.
"And even if that one should try
to visit us, could he defy
the logical trap
of the infinite gap?"
said the author. He heard no reply.
And I, who dreamed all of this up,
am sad as I sip from my cup.
In fiction, you see,
there's no way to be
a part of the world you made up.
Tuesday, March 9, 2010
In Defense of Ecclesiastes
“The book of Ecclesiastes is a difficult book to interpret. It's like Job. Job has 29 chapters of bad theology, inspired by God to be known as bad theology.
[...]
In the last chapter the sum of the matter is this: 'Obey the commandments of God,' because all the efforts that Solomon made had gotten him nowhere. This is bleak theology in Ecclesiastes, not admirable theology.” - John Piper (see article)
While I would place the core of Christian theology and life elsewhere, I don't think there is a book of the Bible that I find as much comfort and solace in as I do in Ecclesiastes. So when I see that John Piper says that the theology in Ecclesiastes is bad theology, I feel like I must reply in defense of the theology of Ecclesiastes. Unfortunately I cannot find anything else Piper has said on the matter to clarify his view and I wont get to the specific passage he was asked about, but given those caveats, I'll start my overview and defense of the theology of Ecclesiastes
What I appreciate most about Ecclesiastes, the thing that brings me so much comfort, is the reminder that all of my efforts are made in vain. But if that's true, you may ask, what am I supposed to do? The Teacher cycles through his arguments several times to answering that question, but I'll just lay out the logical progression.
The most obvious place to start with is “'Meaningless! Meaningless!' says the Teacher. 'Utterly meaningless! Everything is meaningless.'” (1:2)*. He then begins expounding on all that he has wasted his time on and finds meaningless. Some pursuits are clearly futile, a chasing after the wind: the pursuits of wealth, fame and pleasure. Other futile enterprises are more subtle. Let's say I spent all my time seeking wisdom by collecting sayings, pondering questions, trying to figure out what the right course of action is in every situation. When I've come to the end of my life, what have I really accomplished? Will I have arrived at a perfect knowledge? The Teacher says,
When I applied my mind to know wisdom and to observe man's labor on earth—his eyes not seeing sleep day or night- then I saw all that God has done. No one can comprehend what goes on under the sun. Despite all his efforts to search it out, man cannot discover its meaning. Even if a wise man claims he knows, he cannot really comprehend it. (8:16-17)
All I've done is collect some sayings and scraps of wisdom, but it is certain that I have not discovered the full meaning of all that happens under the sun. If that's all I've spent my life on, I'm no better than a clanging cymbal. “Of making many books there is no end, and much study wearies the body.”(12:12)
Perhaps instead I've spent my time and effort building an orphanage, bringing orphans in and training people to continue the work when I'm gone. Even so, I have no guarantee that it will continue to prosper after my death. Someone else will take it over when I'm gone. “And who knows whether he will be a wise man or a fool? Yet he will have control over all the work into which I have poured my effort and skill under the sun. This too is meaningless.” (2:19).
In These Strange Ashes, Elisabeth Elliot tells of the year she spent working with the Colorado Tribe in Ecuador before she married Jim Elliot. Her primary job was to learn the language of the Colorado Indians, making an alphabet and dictionary, as a foundation for Bible translation. At the end of her nine months there, the man who had been teaching her the language got murdered and the suitcase with all her language notes was stolen. While Elisabeth had been working on the language, Jim had spent his time doing construction and repair on five buildings at the mission station of Shandia. As Jim finished his nine months of work, the river suddenly flooded and washed away the entire station. There was nothing left under the sun to show for all their hard work.
God can guarantee that his work will remain, but I have no guarantee that any of my efforts will produce anything lasting under the sun. God is not under the sun; He is not under the rules of death and decay as we are, so “everything God does will endure forever.” (3:14) In fact, God went so far as to become flesh under the sun and overcame the laws of death and decay by rising from the dead. But, while God's work endures, “nothing can be added to it and nothing taken from it.” (3:14) I am powerless to either add to God's plan or ruin it. God may choose to make something I've done endure, but that's God's decision and not mine. God has no need of my efforts. Mordecai explains this to Esther in Esther 4:14, “For if you remain silent at this time, relief and deliverance for the Jews will arise from another place.”
God's work endures, but man's efforts fail. Empires rise and fall. Families rise to prominence then diminish into obscurity. Great causes are won and lost again. Churches that once thrived slowly die, or are torn apart from within. Naked we have come into the world and naked we depart again (5:15). There is no justice under the sun.
But if all my efforts are in vain, what is there left for me to do? The author first answers this question at the end of chapter 2 and summarizes the same idea in different ways throughout the rest of the book:
So my doing good, enjoying God's gifts and doing the work God has given me doesn't require that my efforts produce something that lasts under the sun. This is what I find so freeing. If it doesn't depend on me, then I am free to take a Sabbath rest and desire to do so: “Better one handful with tranquility than two handfuls with toil and chasing after the wind”(4:6). In fact, this allows there to be a time for everything: to work, to rest, to dance, to mourn, to search, to give up. I shouldn't stress out about everything, after all, “who of you by worrying can add a single hour to his life?” (Matt. 6:27).
But if it doesn't depend on my efforts, you may ask, why should I work hard and not just lounge around all the time? This comes from a common misconception that working hard means not having fun. The truth is that it is dependence on the success of the work that ruins the enjoyment of it. If you are depending on your work for the wealth you will get, the status you will receive, or the change you will bring about, then you are depending on something that is out of your control and in control of One who does not promise your work will deliver any of those things under the sun. Even the slightest dependance on what your work will accomplish is a chasing after the wind.
My church had an Ash Wednesday service a few weeks ago and I came in full of stress about school, my job and some difficulties in my volunteer work. Towards the end of the service we formed lines to go to the front to have the ashes put on our foreheads. When I arrived at the front, the elder put his thumb on my forehead, drawing a cross of ash, and said to me, “Kyle, my brother, you are ash, and to ash you will return.” I thought to myself, oh yeah, all my stress and worry over these things is really just a chasing after the wind. I shouldn't depend on what my efforts can achieve. I should simply do the work God has given even if it fails to produce visible results.
Perhaps instead I've spent my time and effort building an orphanage, bringing orphans in and training people to continue the work when I'm gone. Even so, I have no guarantee that it will continue to prosper after my death. Someone else will take it over when I'm gone. “And who knows whether he will be a wise man or a fool? Yet he will have control over all the work into which I have poured my effort and skill under the sun. This too is meaningless.” (2:19).
In These Strange Ashes, Elisabeth Elliot tells of the year she spent working with the Colorado Tribe in Ecuador before she married Jim Elliot. Her primary job was to learn the language of the Colorado Indians, making an alphabet and dictionary, as a foundation for Bible translation. At the end of her nine months there, the man who had been teaching her the language got murdered and the suitcase with all her language notes was stolen. While Elisabeth had been working on the language, Jim had spent his time doing construction and repair on five buildings at the mission station of Shandia. As Jim finished his nine months of work, the river suddenly flooded and washed away the entire station. There was nothing left under the sun to show for all their hard work.
God can guarantee that his work will remain, but I have no guarantee that any of my efforts will produce anything lasting under the sun. God is not under the sun; He is not under the rules of death and decay as we are, so “everything God does will endure forever.” (3:14) In fact, God went so far as to become flesh under the sun and overcame the laws of death and decay by rising from the dead. But, while God's work endures, “nothing can be added to it and nothing taken from it.” (3:14) I am powerless to either add to God's plan or ruin it. God may choose to make something I've done endure, but that's God's decision and not mine. God has no need of my efforts. Mordecai explains this to Esther in Esther 4:14, “For if you remain silent at this time, relief and deliverance for the Jews will arise from another place.”
God's work endures, but man's efforts fail. Empires rise and fall. Families rise to prominence then diminish into obscurity. Great causes are won and lost again. Churches that once thrived slowly die, or are torn apart from within. Naked we have come into the world and naked we depart again (5:15). There is no justice under the sun.
But if all my efforts are in vain, what is there left for me to do? The author first answers this question at the end of chapter 2 and summarizes the same idea in different ways throughout the rest of the book:
- 2:22-25 – What does a man get for all the toil and anxious striving with which he labors under the sun? All his days his work is pain and grief; even at night his mind does not rest. This too is meaningless. A man can do nothing better than to eat and drink and find satisfaction in his work. This too, I see, is from the hand of God, for without him, who can eat or find enjoyment?
- 3:12-13 – I know that there is nothing better for men than to be happy and do good while they live. That everyone may eat and drink, and find satisfaction in all his toil—this is the gift of God.
So my doing good, enjoying God's gifts and doing the work God has given me doesn't require that my efforts produce something that lasts under the sun. This is what I find so freeing. If it doesn't depend on me, then I am free to take a Sabbath rest and desire to do so: “Better one handful with tranquility than two handfuls with toil and chasing after the wind”(4:6). In fact, this allows there to be a time for everything: to work, to rest, to dance, to mourn, to search, to give up. I shouldn't stress out about everything, after all, “who of you by worrying can add a single hour to his life?” (Matt. 6:27).
But if it doesn't depend on my efforts, you may ask, why should I work hard and not just lounge around all the time? This comes from a common misconception that working hard means not having fun. The truth is that it is dependence on the success of the work that ruins the enjoyment of it. If you are depending on your work for the wealth you will get, the status you will receive, or the change you will bring about, then you are depending on something that is out of your control and in control of One who does not promise your work will deliver any of those things under the sun. Even the slightest dependance on what your work will accomplish is a chasing after the wind.
My church had an Ash Wednesday service a few weeks ago and I came in full of stress about school, my job and some difficulties in my volunteer work. Towards the end of the service we formed lines to go to the front to have the ashes put on our foreheads. When I arrived at the front, the elder put his thumb on my forehead, drawing a cross of ash, and said to me, “Kyle, my brother, you are ash, and to ash you will return.” I thought to myself, oh yeah, all my stress and worry over these things is really just a chasing after the wind. I shouldn't depend on what my efforts can achieve. I should simply do the work God has given even if it fails to produce visible results.
* All Bible quotes are taken from the NIV. I prefer reading Ecclesiastes in the NIV than in other translations (KJV, NASB and ESV) since it uses “meaningless” instead of “vanities.” “Vanities” seems to me to be both too archaic and too tied in meaning to narcissism. back
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