I ended my last post by wondering whether or not God cares about what we think of God. That question is important for me as I reflect on the theological training I've had and on the experiences my life has given me. It seems that so much unspeakable evil has been done in the service or name of God, both in my presence and in the presence of history, that somehow God must be concerned about how God is being represented.
But I also wonder at what else is transpiring within the self of the people whose unspeakable acts are performed using the attributed authority of "God." What do they think God is? This leads to another question: Who is God?
That question has taunted and tempted thinkers from time immortal, and while I wish to avoid adding my name to the register of the attempted, it is such a crucial question for me as one who wishes to know God.
Before I launch into something of a theological/biblical expose of the question, I want to explore something philosophical that I think informs and underwrites what we think of as theological. I want to say that first and foremost what we think of as "God" is really a construction of our beliefs.
For centuries Christians have been taught to believe. In fact, when I was a younger man, believing was how one became a Christian.
But this reveals a problem, because our beliefs are the limit of what we consider possible, and even moreso are the signposts by which we determine who we are. They are the markers of our identity. I am my beliefs. BUT if I am my beliefs and my beliefs make me a Christian then I make myself a Christian. This progression eliminates any need or opportunity for God to be anything beyond myself, and thus the God I believe in is none other than me. I may call God "God" and mean that I am not God, but within the depths of the human psyche I am really only believing in myself, and I have named that part of myself "God."
So then, back to my original question: Does God care about how God is represented? IThat depends on which "god" we are referencing. The trouble is that we think that in order to have a relationship with god we have to believe in God, that is, we have to have belief in God. But that relationship is only with ourselves.
So what then do we make of passages like Acts 16:31- "believe on the Lord Jesus Christ and you will be saved?" I will deal with this question in more detail in upcoming posts, but for now I will say that "believe" in Acts does not mean "believe" in English, because believe connects ideologically to belief for us, but it has no such connection in the bible.
NATHAN MYRICK
Lumps of Clay and the Bottom
The longer I live the more I am amazed at the myriad ways of people finding God, peace, hope, faith. And I am even further amazed at the myriad ways of people losing God, peace, hope, faith. If I'm honest, it all creates a deep sadness that rests in the center of my chest, like a ball of clay finding the lowest point on an uneven table.
That ball rolls around, moving back and forth as my experiences shake my table, and I find myself thinking, nay, hoping that each new unsettling might actually be the lowest point; might actually be the truth. That when the ball rolls to that side higher up might be where life is its most wonderful.
But inevitably the ball returns to the bottom, and I am back to wondering if there is anything at all beyond the perpetual search for that thing. We can't all be right about God, so does that mean we're all wrong?
There are certainly times that I want to squish that clay ball; make it flat so that it rests somewhere other than the bottom. That would be a sense of certainty, and indeed I have flattened it at various times. But I do so with the deep knowing that I am only producing for myself a false bottom. And inevitably I rework the clay so that it gives me a reading of the table that is congruent with reality.
I find myself wishing that damn ball would flatten itself so that I could at least enjoy my illusions.
But it won't.
Because a round ball shows me where the bottom is, and convinces me that being right doesn't matter at all to God.
-
It's been a trying month since Ford was born. I've been utterly amazed at my capacity for selfishness, and have realized just how much sacrifice a baby requires. And if I'm entirely honest I wonder if we did the right thing by deciding to have a baby. It'd be nice to fall back on the adage that "God has a plan," but I don't think that adage applies well to the situation. I know that the trials will make me more "Christlike" but I was happy how I was! Well, happier, anyway.
The truth is that my frustration with caring for a newborn is only the superficial issue; maybe it's even the result of the issue. I've just heard too many people speaking in confidence about God and who God is and what God does, and anytime I hear someone speak about God with that kind of confidence I think they're full of shit. I've very little confidence that I know anything about God, or that the way I read the bible is at all faithful, and when someone speaks as if they have "arrived" in that respect I tune them out. It may be that I am deeply, deeply selfish in thinking that my experience must be that of all others, but I still can't get that clay ball of the bottom. I am who I am, a person in need of daily redemption and renewal. And it has been a long time since I've felt renewed by the god I try to follow.
But I can't tell the difference between God, other people, and myself. Maybe God is speaking, and it just sounds like arrogant people who don't actually care about other people. But if that's the way God speaks, or if those are God's priorities, then I'm not sure I want to follow that god. And so I determine, faithfully, that voice is not God's. But even in that faithful determination I have made of myself and my own voice a god.
Maybe there is no God. But I doubt it. Then again, doubting might be the right approach to beliefs about God. So does God not care about how God is being represented? Even about how I represent God to myself? Maybe not. Maybe God could care less about what we think of God. I don't really spend a lot of time worrying about what that dog in the next house thinks about me. Maybe God's got other things to worry about. But I hope not.
That ball rolls around, moving back and forth as my experiences shake my table, and I find myself thinking, nay, hoping that each new unsettling might actually be the lowest point; might actually be the truth. That when the ball rolls to that side higher up might be where life is its most wonderful.
But inevitably the ball returns to the bottom, and I am back to wondering if there is anything at all beyond the perpetual search for that thing. We can't all be right about God, so does that mean we're all wrong?
There are certainly times that I want to squish that clay ball; make it flat so that it rests somewhere other than the bottom. That would be a sense of certainty, and indeed I have flattened it at various times. But I do so with the deep knowing that I am only producing for myself a false bottom. And inevitably I rework the clay so that it gives me a reading of the table that is congruent with reality.
I find myself wishing that damn ball would flatten itself so that I could at least enjoy my illusions.
But it won't.
Because a round ball shows me where the bottom is, and convinces me that being right doesn't matter at all to God.
-
It's been a trying month since Ford was born. I've been utterly amazed at my capacity for selfishness, and have realized just how much sacrifice a baby requires. And if I'm entirely honest I wonder if we did the right thing by deciding to have a baby. It'd be nice to fall back on the adage that "God has a plan," but I don't think that adage applies well to the situation. I know that the trials will make me more "Christlike" but I was happy how I was! Well, happier, anyway.
The truth is that my frustration with caring for a newborn is only the superficial issue; maybe it's even the result of the issue. I've just heard too many people speaking in confidence about God and who God is and what God does, and anytime I hear someone speak about God with that kind of confidence I think they're full of shit. I've very little confidence that I know anything about God, or that the way I read the bible is at all faithful, and when someone speaks as if they have "arrived" in that respect I tune them out. It may be that I am deeply, deeply selfish in thinking that my experience must be that of all others, but I still can't get that clay ball of the bottom. I am who I am, a person in need of daily redemption and renewal. And it has been a long time since I've felt renewed by the god I try to follow.
But I can't tell the difference between God, other people, and myself. Maybe God is speaking, and it just sounds like arrogant people who don't actually care about other people. But if that's the way God speaks, or if those are God's priorities, then I'm not sure I want to follow that god. And so I determine, faithfully, that voice is not God's. But even in that faithful determination I have made of myself and my own voice a god.
Maybe there is no God. But I doubt it. Then again, doubting might be the right approach to beliefs about God. So does God not care about how God is being represented? Even about how I represent God to myself? Maybe not. Maybe God could care less about what we think of God. I don't really spend a lot of time worrying about what that dog in the next house thinks about me. Maybe God's got other things to worry about. But I hope not.
The Saturday Evening Post About Beer: Great White
It's been forever since I've done a Saturday Evening Post About Beer, and for that I owe you all a sincere apology. This installation features my most recent go-to on a warm California evening: Lost Coast Brewery's Great White.
While it is true that I cut my teeth on IPAs, I've made a left turn from there and generally headed into Belgian country. And while Great White isn't necessarily a Belgian, its flavor profile appeals to those who are inclined towards them.
The case may be made that there is little extraordinary about Great White; it fulfills all the criteria of a Whitbeir, generally mild mannered-no irrational outbursts of hoppiness, no overly roasted barley sensations. In short, what sets Great White apart is its balance and easy drinkability. And I'm not talking about Budlight drinkability. I'm talking about nicely nuanced flavor that starts off tart and then transitions into a sweet effervescence. In between tart and effervescent is a savory Whitbeir flavor that walks the line between buttery Heffe and bittery Pilsner. The arroma, as other have noted, is mild. Not weak, but mild. A sort of gentlemanly strength that is confident enough to not flex his muscles every time a woman walks by. That kind of mild. The color is nice and yellow without being see through clear.
All in all, I give this one my unreserved stamp of approval. It's not going to get a five star review, but when I'm not looking for champagne beer or feeling curious about something radical, Great White is a perfect every-day beer. And as Lost Coast expands, Great White is increasingly easy to come by!
Rating: ***1/2
While it is true that I cut my teeth on IPAs, I've made a left turn from there and generally headed into Belgian country. And while Great White isn't necessarily a Belgian, its flavor profile appeals to those who are inclined towards them.
The case may be made that there is little extraordinary about Great White; it fulfills all the criteria of a Whitbeir, generally mild mannered-no irrational outbursts of hoppiness, no overly roasted barley sensations. In short, what sets Great White apart is its balance and easy drinkability. And I'm not talking about Budlight drinkability. I'm talking about nicely nuanced flavor that starts off tart and then transitions into a sweet effervescence. In between tart and effervescent is a savory Whitbeir flavor that walks the line between buttery Heffe and bittery Pilsner. The arroma, as other have noted, is mild. Not weak, but mild. A sort of gentlemanly strength that is confident enough to not flex his muscles every time a woman walks by. That kind of mild. The color is nice and yellow without being see through clear.
All in all, I give this one my unreserved stamp of approval. It's not going to get a five star review, but when I'm not looking for champagne beer or feeling curious about something radical, Great White is a perfect every-day beer. And as Lost Coast expands, Great White is increasingly easy to come by!
Rating: ***1/2
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