To Build a Home

As I sit in my office (or glorified spare room) studying the theory of the atonement and how best we are to understand Christ's sacrifice on the cross for the satisfaction of sin, I am struck by a stark revelation: a deeper understanding will not necessarily bring about about a deeper devotion. That is not to say that a deeper understanding is worthless, but rather truth without faith is not very much at all.

I read a great example of this in Kiekegaard's journals: understanding without devotion is like renting a house and filling it with possessions and furniture but being left standing there without a beloved to share life with. Christianity is not something to be believed but something to be lived. Ultimately a quest for more and more knowledge will be an unsatisfied one; according to the Kierkegaardian there is a limit to reason, and a limit to understanding. Unless we are prepared to make the leap into living we are left with an empty house built with solid understandable bricks but no-one to share it with.

This resonates with me. When I read through the life of Jesus and his teachings, although to some extent his project is one of truth and understanding, his teachings are ultimately of a practical nature, his aim is to urge people to live more fully not to know more. He doesn't give us a nice tidy doctrine in which to do this with. He asks confusing questions, he spits in people's eyes, he flips orthodoxy on its head. Any attempt to tie Jesus' teachings into a neatly understood system seem entirely to miss the point- he is urging you to live in fullness of God.

According to Kierkgeaard our sense of human reason is tainted by the condition of sin. Our distance from God makes Christianity seem repulsive at times. It is only in living in faith that we can fully embrace Christianity. Yet the temptation I have is to desire everything to be neat, for my knowledge to be complete, for my theology to be orthodox and my understanding of God to be much richer than anyone else's. If Kierkgeeard is right however, then I am deeply lacking if I do not live it. If the doctrine of the atonement is no more to me than just another philosophical argument, if it makes no difference to how I speak to my wife, how I spend my money and what I do tomorrow, then it is futile.

"What good would it do me to be able to explain the meaning of Christianity if it had no deeper significance for me and for my life;- what good would it be to me if the truth stood before me, cold and naked, not caring whether I recognised her or not, and producing in me a shudder of fear rather than a trusting devotion?" S. Kierkegaard's Journals, August 1 1835

That isn't to say we ought to abandon reason altogether- Kierkgegaard doesn't endorse irrationalism as some have supposed, but he merely recognises the limits of reason. What if Truth were not something that could be discovered by looking at more evidence, what if Truth were not something we could prove, what if Truth were a person? If this is the case, it seems that Kierkegaard is right, what we need is not a reasonable understanding but a complete devotion.

I Have Nothing

"God in Heaven, let me really feel my nothingness, not in order to despair over it, but in order to feel the more powerfully the greatness of Thy goodness" S. Kierkegaard.

Increasingly this is becoming one of my most common prayers. When I think for more than a few minutes about the greatness and goodness of the God that I allegedly worship, my response is more often than not found in silence and wonder.

I don't want to in any way discount the wonderful richness that can be found in words of songs and rousing music or the power of a passionate sermon, or the beautiful words of a prayer. I have found them all incredibly important to my faith and to my worship of God.  But of late, I struggle to worship any further than in stillness, aware of my own nothingness and God's supremacy. It is difficult to know what to say at times. 

I sometimes wonder if we have moulded Christianity into something which fits around our own desire to find purpose in life, our desire to be fulfilled and accepted by God, to have a 'personal saviour'. We rarely embrace the concept of nothingness into our Churches or society . Perhaps the antidote to the self obsessed culture we find ourself in is not to sell Jesus as just another product which can satisfy, a bigger better version of Starbucks or Apple, but rather as the complete antitheses of consumerism. 

It is in nothingness that we discover the richness and the profundity of God. Perhaps if we dared to shut up more often, to be silent instead of speaking, to be aware of our own nothingness in the Universe that we might truly learn something of what it means to worship, and maybe something of what it means to live. 

"Your attitude should be the same that Christ Jesus had. Though he was God, he did not demand and cling to his rights as God. He made himself nothing." Philippians 2:5-7

The Sound of Silence

The expression 'personal relationship with God' is one I hear often. And it is a good challenge to those who see God as a far off deity that made the world and left, or for those who want nothing to do with God at all. God is personally interested in humanity, and in you.

 The downside of this expression, I have found in my own life, is that it has a tendency to remove the reverence I might, and should, have for God. And if the God I worship does indeed exist, he deserves utter reverence; he has the power and right to sweep the carpet from underneath the feet of the universe whenever he so chooses. He has in his control the destiny of every living thing, he exists eternally and beyond anything we can comprehend. Our response to this must be one of trepidation and awe.

Somehow, "God" has become second hand for "personal assistant". I have found in my own life a tendency to make it all about my 'personal relationship with God'. I am so desperate to know what it is God wants me to do with my life, I am so desperate to seek spiritual discipline. I seek God's will in my life for direction and forgiveness, for comfort, for peace. I chat away about my own life so freely to God. But it is generally about me. It is a relationship and a faith centred around what I might gain- where I might go next; which career will be fulfilling, which wife I might enjoy the most, which Church I might be most respected in. If I'm honest, I use 'God' to serve my own needs often.

Jesus says: "But seek first his kingdom and his righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well." 

Should I seek God's will for my life? I should seek first his kingdom. Should I sell all my possessions and go serve the poor? I should seek first his kingdom. Should I seek to be spiritual disciplined? I should seek first his kingdom. Should I apply for this job? Should I marry this girl? Should I go on this conference? Should I go into Church leadership? I should seek first his kingdom. This statement is a conversation stopper for any question I might ask. I should seek first the kingdom of God. Whatever the question is- that is the answer.

Kierkegaard suggests that the response to this is silence. Silence before God; utter reverence of the one who created everything. It seems to me an apt response to the kingdom of God. His glory surely silences and puts into perspective whatever it is that is keeping us up at night. When we seek first the kingdom of God, the worries of this world surely fade into nothingness, like staring at an endless sky of glittering stars which go on for billions and trillions of miles. How absurd does my life and worries start to look when I stare into the kingdom of God?

God is not my personal assistant. He is not a disposable item I use to assist my short time on planet earth, an interest I take up to make my life more manageable and fulfilling. I want 2012 to be a year when I can say with confidence that I am seeking first his kingdom. I want to be able to say I sought God in silence, with reverence and that I was a part of something bigger, something gloriously eternal.

 2012 is crying out for people who are prepared to break the spirit of individualism; in our culture, in our Church, in our world. What would it look like if we sought after the kingdom of God first, and left our own desires and will behind for 2012? What would it look like for the answer to every question I might ask to be- "Seek first the kingdom of God".

Don't neglect the personal, deep and intimate nature of God this year. It is life changing and life giving. Don't stop praying about every worry you might have. I am not claiming we ought to leave behind 'personal relationship with God', but rather that we get a bit of perspective on it. It is for his sake, not for yours. It is for his sake that you are changed, it is for the kingdom of God, not for the kingdom of Josh. 

Simple Twist of Fate

"Philosophy is perfectly right in saying that life must be understood backward. But then one forgets the other clause- that it must be lived forward. The more one thinks through this clause, the more one concludes that life in temporality never becomes properly understandable, simply because never at any time does one get perfect repose to take a stance- backward." (Kierkegaard, Early Journal Entries, 1843)

I am struck by these words as I teeter towards my next steps in life. I'll be getting married next September, and at the moment I have no idea what I'll be doing for a job, which city I'll be living in, how I'll earn a living. Kierkegaard is spot on when he says that life must be live forwards, but only understood fully backwards. I feel at the moment a little lost in the prospect of my future. Big decision lie ahead in the next few weeks and months.

I think often the idea of 'calling' and of God's guidance is like this. Looking back, I feel that I was strongly called by God to studying Philosophy, to coming to York, even in starting going out with Ellie. I do believe in guidance in some capacity. It seems relatively easy to look backwards and speak about calling, and God's guidance in situation X.

It is much more difficult to apply this looking forwards. At the moment I don't know if I feel particularly whole heatedly called to a specific path. Sure I feel passionate about the Church, about leadership, about philosophy, thinking, faith, music, coffee. I have passions. But at times I look at my passions and my situations and the future just seems a bit of a blur.  I reckon Kierkegaard was right.

We need to learn to not spend too much time looking backwards. I know that I'm guilty of it; noticing God's presence in places in my life that have past and getting frustrated that he isn't clearer now. The thing is we can never live backwards, we can never take up that perfect stance. That's so frustrating. But I wonder if part of the notion of being a follower of Christ, of living in 'faith' is that it's pretty easy to see where you've gone and not always possible to see where you're going. All I can do is take the next step. And at the moment those feel like particularly small steps. Daily steps.

It's reassuring for me that I have something to follow. And I need to remind myself daily that I'm following. I need to learn to trust. Even looking back over the last few weeks I see where God has moved, and how things have changed. And I need to learn not try and adopt the backward stance, not to kid myself that I was certain of anything. Now it's easy to say that X was the right thing to do. At the time that decision was filled with doubts and questions; it was just a matter of following. It all makes sense now, but life can only be lived forwards.

And so today, as I step another foot forwards, I appreciate the present, I appreciate the cloud of the future. I am thankful for where God has led me so far, and I am excitedly apprehensive about where he will lead me next. And in a way, as annoying as it is, I'm kind of glad life cannot be understood forwards, the excitement of not knowing keeps me edging forwards. 

What Do I Want?

"Very simply- I want honesty". I want our behaviour to reflect our hearts. I want people to be risky enough to say what they're really thinking. I want people to be brave enough to embrace and confront their doubt. I want people's stories of faith to reflect their true journey and not some embellished version that we might find more encouraging.

I want to be the kind of Christian that acts as consistently in front of my computer as at work, in the street, with my girlfriend, in Church. Very simply- I want honesty. I want to belong to a community of honesty. Sometimes I see glimpses of this in the Church. Other times I see crowds of masked 'Christianese'; people who know what the right thing to do is, the right thing to say.

I was talking with a friend recently whose going through a bit of a crisis of faith. Part of me thinks that the situations he finds himself in haven't helped his faith. But sometimes I wonder how much room there was for him to be brutal, vulnerable and honest in the Church.

If the Church is a community of believers, living together, sharing everything, how does it get to the point when people say things that surprise us, express doubt, question the 'orthodox'. For my faith, without the opportunity to question even some of the most basic assumptions, to confront doubt, to be candid about what I believe, I know I would have left by now. I can't hack the front of Christianity, I can't pretend I'm excited and passionate when sometimes I'm not.

Very simply- I want honesty. The title and opening line of this blog, I steal from a very influential thinker: Soren Kierkegaard, who wrote an article in 1855 on the same topic. He was frustrated by the Danish Church, the official "Christianity" and the comfortableness of its members. He refused to call himself "Christian", because to him, "Christianity" didn't reflect what Jesus taught, what the New Testament spoke about.

I wonder how Kierkegaard would have fared in the 21st Century British Church. Whilst we may have rediscovered some of the core of what Christ is about in some ways (compared to the Church in his time), in other ways we still desperately lack honesty. And in some ways, we fail to question the core of what Jesus is about. We are sometimes scared of asking basic questions, it is often easier to 'present' ourselves as coherent and together than to be ourselves in front of others. I am often frustrated this.

Perhaps you don't agree. Perhaps you think it's good that the Church isn't too over-personal and frank It might get a bit messy if we have to listen to what everyone actually thinks instead of the official line. It might be discouraging to hear skeptics voice their opinions at risk of stopping others coming to belief. It might make people who are firm in their faith begin to doubt.

 But I do wonder if we're risking honesty at a high price. I wonder if people like my mate might have firmer foundations when the hard times come if they were encouraged to wrestle with doubt more, if they were forced to say what they really thought about things.

Very simply- I want honesty. I am exploring what that means, and perhaps it starts with myself, it starts with you- being prepared to be honest with people. Being prepared to paint our journey of faith as a messy, difficult, glorious, doubting, tiring, but rewarding story. Being able to tell people our struggles, being able to share our doubts with others. It starts with us modelling honesty, and creating a culture of it. I wonder sometimes if a culture of honesty requires a complete upheaval of the structure of 'Church'. But I'm optimistic that we might make this 'Church' thing work somehow.

Running on Faith

I believe because I can do no other. I wasn't argued into faith, I wasn't persuaded into faith. I became self conscious and I believed. I'm not alone in this. Others can remember the first time they had faith. My mate James for example became a Christian 5 years ago. He was at a festival with me and my friends when he got out of his seat and went to the front to respond and never looked back since. I don't think anyone persuaded or argued him into it. He just got up from his seat and walked into faith. Today he is introducing people to Jesus left right and centre, he is devoting his year to serving God and his Church. It astounds me. All because of that one moment when he leapt into faith.

 Recently I can't get away from the absurdity of faith. Understand me when I say 'absurd'. I don't mean absurd in the sense that we might often hear it. Absurd carries quite a few negative connotations, we might say "The big bang theory is an absurd theory." When we say this we usually mean it's unreasonable or that we disagree with it. When I say that faith is 'absurd that's not quite what I mean. Sartre uses the notion of absurdity to refer to all of existence. Things exist and we are confronted with their existence but there seems to be no meaning behind them. There's some pretty hilariously pretentious pieces (apologies Sartre fanatics) when Sartre talks about being confronted by the absurdity of a tree trunk as a form which confronts his senses but which has no meaning, when we strip away the names we give it, when we experience things as they actually are, we see that they're utterly absurd.

For me that's a pretty good account of faith. I've become increasingly disillusioned with apologetics, with the whole McGrath/ Dawkins spat. It once used to fascinate me, I used to want to be able to argue any atheist into the ground. Now I can't really be bothered. Partly because the arguments don't always convince me, but partly because I think that faith isn't a proposition to be proved at all. Don't get me wrong, there's a use in discussing apologetics if it helps people to see that the Christian faith isn't absolutely bonkers. But it irritates me.

Kierkegaard argued that faith is a paradox, he held that the rational mind cannot ever comprehend God fully or prove that he exists. Faith is all about risk, faith is about leaping into something absurd. I daily leap into the absurd. I choose daily to trust in God. You might have read up to here and think that I'm actually a bit of an idiot. That I've lost a grasp on rationality and am just looking for a way to cling onto some stability that has been indoctrinated in me. Surely that's a possibility, but I don't think it's the truth. You see the thing is we daily leap into the absurd. All of us. None of us can fully understand the universe, the existence of consciousness, life our own existence. When we confront things as they really are, stripped away from all the meaning we bring to them, all we have left is absurdity. Christianity isn't a proposition at all. It's a complete overhaul of my being.

I endorse Christ to you wholeheartedly. I believe that he has redeemed me. That he has set me free from my own self centered universe, I believe that he offers me life eternal. But following Christ is a total worldview. It is a lens that infects every aspect of my existence. It is not something I can be persuaded of in the same way that I can be persuaded that there used to be dinosaurs walking on planet earth. I believe that faith in Christ is the ultimate fulfillment and it brings hope and truth to everything.

But at the same time it's utterly absurd. I cannot tell you why I believe. I believe because I can do no other. I am transformed into faith. That is why I am increasingly frustrated with the limits of rationalism. At some point we all have to leap. That is why Kierkegaard claims that faith is so offensive to rationalism, it threatens the very basis of it. It is a frustrating splinter that cannot be removed, even amidst the tightest argument, there always exists the slightest doubt. I have chosen to leap fully into Christ, and into his promises. I'm not an irrational idiot. But I will constantly fustrate the humanists of this world with my faith. Because faith cannot be eradicated by debate. When we start to enter into the view that rationalism is the only option, faith might diminish, might fade into the background. But I cannot escape the absurd, I cannot shake off faith. It is the most real thing to me.

We need to show faith, we need to model it. That is why I think my friend James leapt into the unknown that day; he saw faith amongst him. I leap every day into what sometimes seems paradoxical and unknown. My hope is that other people will see the power of faith and choose the same.