Lonely

Social media is making me feel weird.

Somehow I feel too liberal, too conservative, too orthodox, too progressive, too grown-up, too immature, too intelligent, too stupid, too bold, and too passive all at the same time.

The word "too" looks funny when you write it a bunch of times.

Now I Know in Part...

Yesterday, several videos showed up in my Facebook mini-feed of people being able to hear for the first time (or at least being able to hear better) thanks to cochlear implants. I watched one. Then another. Then many more.

The reactions people have are very moving. Many start crying when they hear the first sounds. Often they are startled or even confused, because their brains aren't used to processing sound.

It got me thinking: how do you describe sound to someone who has never heard or sight to someone who has never seen? Each is - as far as I can tell - an irreducible category of experience. To see is to detect light, but what could the concept of "detecting light" possibly mean to someone who has only known darkness? Can the experience of light or sound really be adequately compared to any other aspect of human experience? I don't think so. At the same time, people who are blind or deaf probably have experiences of reality that I have no category for either.

This leads me to wonder: how much of the whole of reality are we unaware of because we lack the sense(s) to perceive it? Are there other aspects of reality that are like light to a blind man or sound to a deaf person but which all human beings are blind and deaf to? My guess is yes. I suppose this is an unprovable assumption, but it seems to me a very rational one. Even with the senses that we do have, we're able to conclude that there is much to reality which is not immediately detectable (e.g., ultraviolet light, radio waves, etc). All signs suggest that reality is more, not less, than the sum of our experiences.

I believe all of us will experience something analogous to the cochlear implant after death: a new sense (or perhaps several senses) which will grant us the ability to experience reality in its fullness. The Apostle Paul wrote, "Now we see but a poor reflection as in a mirror; then we shall see face to face. Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I am fully known." (1st Cor 13:12).

I hope Paul is right. Knowing in part can be frustrating.

I suspect that this opening of our senses will be a little like these cochlear implant videos, only more so: Tears. Feeling overwhelmed. An ability to experience those we love in a way we never could before. A sense that something we've gone without for so long has finally been granted to us.

I think it will be beautiful, but probably a little scary, too. Maybe really scary. Especially if we want to hold on to an incomplete or deluded view of reality. The more we learn to love and long for the truth now, the more beautiful coming face to face with it will be.

Erasing Hate

Last night, I watched a really fascinating documentary on Netflix called Erasing Hate. The film is about Bryon Widner, a man who spent sixteen years living as a neo-nazi. During those years of hate, violence, and substance abuse, Widner literally wore his heart (or lack thereof) on his sleeve. He covered his face and body in "white power" tattoos, including swastikas, an SS symbol, and a bloody switchblade. In his early teens, he had H-A-T-E inked across his knuckles. He knew his tattoos would prevent him from ever integrating into mainstream society, but that didn't matter to him because he had no intention of doing so. As a neo-nazi, he planned on either dying young or dying in prison.

In the documentary, Bryon recounts some of the horrible things he's done: baseball bat beatdowns, switchblade slicings, and slamming a Mexican janitor's head repeatedly into a toilet bowl. Sometimes, he says, "I lie awake all f****** night thinking about what I've done." Because Bryon was drunk so much of the time, he's not even sure how much violence he's inflicted.

And yet, somehow, Bryon - a man who now admits he once had no regard for human life - changed his mind. He met a woman named Julie at a white power rally and they fell in love. Simultaneously, both began to have doubts about the world they were in. Eventually they married and Bryon became a father to Julie's children. For a time they remained in the white power associations because they didn't know how to function outside of them, but eventually they decided they had to break free. As they cut ties with their community, their former "friends" began to threaten their lives, forcing Bryon and his family to flee the state.

Since then, Bryon and Julie have tried to build a life for themselves. Erasing Hate focuses on a critical step in the process: removing Bryon's facial tattoos - an excruciatingly painful process that took a year and a half and over 20 procedures.

I don't want to give everything about the film away because I really think it's worth watching, but I will say I was deeply moved. Searching the comments on Netflix, I noticed that many gave the film a low rating because they didn't think Bryon deserved to have his life redeemed. Many also doubted that his change of heart was sincere.

Whether or not Bryon's life deserves to be redeemed isn't up for debate: it doesn't. I suspect that if I were to witness half the things Bryon did I would be physically ill. However, I believe that grace - the willingness to grant others blessing they do not deserve - is a good, beautiful, and transforming thing. It reflects the very nature of God. Bryon doesn't deserve redemption, but nothing that is redeemed deserves redemption. Redemption is what happens when that which deserves to be tossed in the garbage is miraculously salvaged. This is Bryon's story, and from the Christian perspective it is even more than that: it is the story of the entire Creation.

As to whether or not Bryon's change of heart is sincere, I see no reason to doubt. He has chosen to leave a sub-culture that kills its apostates and has renounced his former associations in a very public way, despite the risks involved. He has suffered the agony of tattoo removal (which, if you watch the documentary, you will see is no small thing), and he has gained the trust and friendship of those he once regarded as his enemies.

I can understand, though, why people doubt. Repentance - that is, the changing of one's mind - is perhaps the most miraculous event of all, and we in the West are particularly suspicious of miracles. People like Bryon, though, are proof that they can happen.

Watching Bryon suffer through the numerous tattoo procedures struck me as reflective of the Christian journey of sanctification. We all have the scars of sin on our lives, and many of those scars run very deep. We begin the process of repairing those scars by experiencing repentance - a remarkable change of mind - but the process of reparation is often a long and difficult road. In fact, it is a lifelong process, and it includes seasons of pain. God takes the laser beam of the Holy Spirit to the scars sin has inked on our hearts and blasts them away, and there are times when the process is so painful we want to throw in the towel. But perseverance yields profound reward, and one day we will be presented as pure and blameless before the God who loves us enough not to leave us covered in hate and evil.

I wish I could talk to Bryon. I would tell him that I've prayed for him - that I know how hard it is to stay on the narrow path when there are so many off-ramps on to the the broad highway of destruction. I would tell him I believe God has been doing a great work in Him, and that He'll be faithful to carry it to completion. I would tell him that most of the New Testament was written by a guy who was killing Christians before he was converting them, and to take comfort in that. I would tell him to take one day at a time, to love his wife and kids, and to not let those who disbelieve his repentance define him. May God continue to raise him from the dead.

     

Cynicism vs. Joy

"For me it is amazing to experience daily the radical difference between cynicism and joy. Cynics seek darkness wherever they go. They point always to approaching dangers, impure motives, and hidden schemes. They call trust naive, care romantic, and forgiveness sentimental. They sneer at enthusiasm, ridicule spiritual fervor, and despise charismatic behavior. They consider themselves realists who see reality for what it truly is and who are not deceived by "escapist emotions." But in belittling God's joy, their darkness only calls forth more darkness.

People who have come to know the joy of God do not deny the darkness, but they choose not to live in it. They claim that the light that shines in the darkness can be trusted more than the darkness itself and that a little bit of light can dispel a lot of darkness. They point each other to flashes of light here and there, and remind each other that they reveal the hidden but real presence of God. They discover that there are people who heal each other's wounds, forgive each other's offenses, share their possessions, foster the spirit of community, celebrate the gifts they have received, and live in constant anticipation of the full manifestation of God's glory."

- Henri Nouwen, The Return of the Prodigal Son

So I Don't Forget This...

"Ways and means are going to occur to you, be suggested to you, be recommended to you by some of the other prophets in town, that are going to be convincing and tempting, ways and means that set aside The Holy for something much more understandable and accessible. The fact is that men and women have no love or taste for The Holy - they want a God who serves them on their terms, not a God they can serve on his terms. Don't be misled: the task of preaching the truth of salvation is not helped by clear communication - clear communication requires using the words and syntax that people are familiar with, that is part of their dailiness. But The Holy is not part of what they are used to. It is obscured by sin, it is a faded memory of the image in which they were created. The preaching of The Holy is not furthered by techniques or strategies. The Holy is not a problem to be solved. And if you compromise in the slightest you will betray me. You will also betray these people. No matter how much they might respond to you, no matter how much they might applaud your preaching, you will end up cheating them of a holy life, a life from Above, a life healed, restored, ransomed, forgiven - by The Holy."

- Eugene Peterson, The Jesus Way

What Art Is

"I had never paid attention to a sanctuary as a piece of art, doing what art does - using the sensory (material, sound, texture) to give access to mystery, to get "behind the scenes" of our ordinary lives - to see, hear, touch, taste, and smell the vast world of beauty that inhabits, underlies, and permeates space and time, place and each person. The Holy."

- Eugene Peterson, The Pastor.

Thoughts on Trees

I really like trees. Growing up in rural New England, nothing is more ordinary than trees, but I'm still not tired of them. It might sound sappy to say this, but trees just look more beautiful to me with each passing year. I look up at their twisted branches and feel a quiet joy. The sky and the ocean have the same effect.

Richard Dawkins said in The God Delusion, "Isn't it enough to see that a garden is beautiful without having to believe that there are fairies at the bottom of it too?"

I don't believe in fairies myself, but I do believe in angels, demons, and a God who is unseen, and of course those are the beliefs Dawkins is really going at here. He's saying we shouldn't need to resort to belief in anything supernatural (or "extra-natural") in order to fully appreciate the world around is. To an extent, I think he's right. Clearly, people are capable of appreciating nature without considering it the product of a Divine mind. However, I would say those who do so are appreciating the signifier while missing out on what the signifier signifies. It's like opening a book and saying, "Can't we just appreciate the shape and arrangement of these squiggles without insisting that they mean anything?" We could, but we'd lose a lot.

Do trees signify something beyond what they are, or are they simply trees? Do they mean something, or are they just aesthetically-pleasing squiggles?

The naturalist analyzes the squiggles with discipline and thoroughness. He knows precisely what they are comprised of, how old they are, and how frequently certain patterns tend to occur. But he doesn't think the squiggles are actually words.

It is interesting to me that the Bible describes God as speaking the world into existence. If the universe is what the words of God look like, then perhaps naturalism is the philosophy of analyzing the squiggles while refusing to accept the possibility that they are actually words. Like missing the forest for the trees, it's missing the words for the letters. And when you miss the words, you lose the plot.

The skeptic retorts: Prove it! Show me that there are more than just the squiggles! Those of us who claim to see more than squiggles struggle a bit here. We point to the beauty and order of the arrangement as evidence that the squiggles are actually words, but the skeptic protests that we know so much about the composition and arrangement of the squiggles that the assumption that they are actually words is unfounded. Those of us who believe reply: we know the squiggles are words because we know the language! But how do we know it? Maybe its innate. Or maybe it was taught to us. For the naturalist, either possibility is proof that we are deceived (in the first case we're deceived by our genetics, in the second by misleading socialization). For the rest of us, though, we hear the words when we see the squiggles, and their arrangement persuades us that a story is being told. Most of the time, that is good enough.