(self reflective ... ignore if there's nothing that resonates with you)
Who do you want to carry your coffin? It began on a long flight where the in-seat entertainment offered nothing new to watch. Sitting in the dark I began to list the names of people who come to mind when I think about those who are part of my life; a Christian academic hopeful who is getting confused in philosophy, a deeply serious Christian trapped in a modern variety of gnosticism, two (ex-)Christians who have lapsed into ambivalence, and a number of other "good" people who hover a safe distance from God. And so my list grew, but it was awhile before any of my three siblings names came up (my parents are dead). I think my sibling family is nominally dysfunctional; but then all families are to some degree. However, I've recently been reflecting on the oddities of my sibling relationships ... and my airplane musing has made me think about one in particular. We don't make much effort to visit each other. Odd, isn't it. I think we like each other – mostly – or at least we don't seem to actively dislike each other. We cross paths when circumstances dictate, and amicably share each others space when staying at the shared family vacation home, or at funerals and weddings and occasional family “business” gatherings. Of my three siblings, there is one who visits me occasionally. Another has visited me only once in 20 years, as best I can recall. The third rarely visits, seemingly never for social reasons and then only in short fly-by stops associated with a need to discuss something. For my part, I visit the one who visits me with similar (in)frequency. Of the other two, one I used to try and visit with some regularity, but then he divorced and moved out of town, and now the last decade of his life is a closed book to me. The third? Well my visits have slowly faded - I'm not sure whether its for lack of reciprocity, my own failures, or other reasons. Of course I'm part of the problem; it takes two to tango. As to the cause, that's hard to say. Should my siblings even be friends? Perhaps my way of thinking is too dissimilar and so casual conversations are awkward? There is also a bit of an age gap between myself and the three of them, and I grew up somewhat as an "only" child without their shared experiences. But then again I also have friends who are much older and younger than myself. I suspect my thoughts are reasonably similar to one sibling, but the others do appear to have somewhat differing perspectives, priorities, and life values, so that may be part of it. We also grew up in a family culture that was not very expressive, so perhaps that engendered an attitude of self-reliance, and maybe visiting each other is seen as breaking that "rule" of not expressing ourselves? I think its sad to a degree ... but maybe its just normal. We do value each other, but our natural social zones seem to have limited overlap, and so there's not a lot of gravity to pull us together except in cases of sibling concerns. I know (believe) that we would all leap to each others aid without hesitation, and certainly the tragedies in our collective lives have shown that to be mostly true. But should it be more than that? Here's a closing question: who do you want to be the pall bearers at your funeral? My list starts with my daughter and her husband, then two of my peer-group friends and one of my brothers. That's 5, and includes one sibling. For the 6th pall bearer, I can think of a dozen or more I would like to carry me, but sadly the other siblings are not inevitably on that list. Why? Should I feel guilty? Or is this simply the normal dysfunctional reality of family?
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Every now and then I write something, and the next day I find the essence expressed so much better in a song! Easter is a time when people start saying "Is this all really true, is it relevant, and why bother when I already have so many other troubles to deal with?" Easter is a time when latent doubts bubble to the surface. Often their (my?) questions are rooted in "if God exists why would he create me with this [fill in your problem]" What does one say when someone is questioning the truth about the meaning of life, about God and where we fit in? Recently I've been having exchanges with individuals, or encountered people who have drifted or understandably chosen to stop believing. Many people don't like to engage with those who are drifting, and react with simplistic and hurtful judgements. Some perhaps because their own doubts are uncomfortably exposed, and some simply ignore the discussion and walk away fearful of their own thoughts. I too have doubts, but I prefer to take these moments as valuable (and sometimes painful) opportunities to re-interrogate the evidence, to encourage (myself), and to choose all over again. In my real-world job I deal with scientific uncertainty ... mathematically, qualitatively, intrinsically. It's hard because uncertainty is ... well, its uncertain: there's a simple uncertainty about knowing what's true, but far more difficult are uncertainties about whether a truth is important, is it relevant to my situation, what should my response be, and the consequences if I ignore it. I manage these uncertainties in my work - there are techniques and methods. But outside of my job's focus it becomes much harder to respond to both my own and other people's uncertainties about life, meaning, and if there is a God. Nonetheless, I think there are honest things we can do (made all the more easy if there is someone trustworthy to walk the path with you). Easter is a special time to for this, and my approach is: 1. Remember. If I once believed something, why did I believe? Did I examine the evidence that led me to a conclusion, or maybe was there an experience that opened eyes to a new truth. How did it change my life? For some people that moment of realization came through their intellectual honesty: C.S. Lewis called himself the most reluctant convert in history, because he could no longer deny the evidence (and he really didn't like the implications at first). Then there was Count von Zinzendorf who came to believe in a relational God while looking at a painting - a mystical experience. However it started, we all have our history of experience - good and bad. I can remember key times in my history: of intellectual acceptance, times of healing, of my daughter nearly dead, of deep joy as understanding awoke, and many times of an outward and inward awareness that God was at work. I can also remember dry, dry periods when I was like a desiccated plant that has lost it's memory of water, where God seemed absent from the picture. Remember. 2. Be honest. Experience is just that, its experience, not an explanation. I had to realize that my belief in something does not change reality. My desires for a God of a certain type, for a God who repairs me, or even my sometime-desire for there to be no God, has zero influence on the actual existence of God. I had to realize that if God exists, by definition he is deserving of my attention whether or not he meets my requirements or desires. Its like the fact that gravity attracts, independent of whether I like it or not, or whether I believe it exists. Likewise, God's existence is NOT conditional on my doing anything, wanting anything, needing anything, or receiving anything. I might not like that he exists, I might not like that he seems silent sometimes, but that's an altogether different issue. Be honest. 3. Question. If Jesus is who he says he is (unless he's mad, or bad as CS Lewis puts it), then does that mean I can expect my life to be fixed. Evidence tells me no - at least not everything. So why bother with him? Because if the story is true, then he's certainly bothering (with) me! Question. 4. Evaluate. Don't just accept something because someone says it's so. Everything has some measure of uncertainty. The real question is not if there is uncertainty (do you know with certainty that you are not actually an avatar in someone’s computer program?), the real question is: what is likely? What does the evidence say is the most rational explanation (and I'll say this: atheism is NOT the most rational explanation!). Is it more likely than not that there is a God (evidence says to me that yes it is very likely), and can I be confident about that (experience and reason says to me, yes, I can). If so, evaluate Easter! If the above leads me to conclude that God exists, is real, and relevant, then the question becomes all about my response, not about what I can get. The question is simply "Will I ignore him?" EASTER: (another) chance to ignore, examine, or connect? Jesus didn't say "Follow Christians", he said "Follow me" ("Christians", and religion, can be a real pain in the neck - maybe from all the contortions of bending into a stereotype?) I would suggest only two certainties: I will always have questions, and change is the only constant. Yet paradoxically, Jesus stands as fixed marker, surrounded by evidence, with incredible claims, and eternal consequences. EASTER: His act, my choice. Postscript 1: I still don't know what to say to someone in the midst of doubt. There are platitudes aplenty, but without the chance to engage in discussion, I can say little more than "I empathise, I know the feeling, and all I can do is encourage you to consider the consequences of 'Is this true?'"
Postscript 2: I think there are amazing resources that walk through the inevitable questions and doubts - but they ideally need discussion - no question should be taboo. I would point to the Alpha Course (best done in person, but one can listen too), or one of my favourites is the Life Course (again best in person; but the talks are excellent - archived on my church's web site here). Postscript 3: They say there only two certainties in life: death and taxes. But that's not really true is it, there is much about death that is uncertain, such as when, where, how, and what happens next? My mom’s death (below) was a surprise, and so was the means (murder) - no-one ever anticipated it so soon, so sudden, and so tragically. Yet her funeral was one of the most joyful experiences I have known because of my (believed) certainty in her future. The grief was hard, but would have been so much harder without that knowledge of certainty. |
Why?
Probably the best therapy is to express yourself. Why do you think psychiatrists make you lie on the couch and talk, while all they do is murmur "hmmm", "uhuh", or "go on"? Archives
May 2017
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