I asked a couple of posts ago: "Can human beings really change?" Now, it occurs to me to ask: "Can human beings possibly stay the same?"
We change to survive, don't we? And, then again, there is some continuity in our history that makes life meaningful. Without this continuity (commitment, faithfulness, loyalty, integrity, consistency), nothing much endures or is accomplished. But, this continuity has to walk hand-in-hand (befriend) change,or else it is a rigid, life-killing continuity.
Here are the words from a song called What A Good Boy by the "Bare Naked Ladies." I always liked it. It certainly questions outer expectations that are placed upon us, but also the internal struggle to be, well, who we really need to be. And, amidst all that there is the fear of change, and, yes, the fear of staying the same and the yearning to find someone who will stay with us through all of that.
"When I was born, they looked at me and said,
What a good boy, what a smart boy, what a strong boy.
And when you were born, they looked at you and said,
What a good girl, what a what a smart girl, what a pretty girl.
We've got these chains that hang around our necks
people want to strangle us with them before we take our first breath.
Afraid of change, afraid of staying the same,
when temptation calls, we just look away.
Chorus
"This name is the hairshirt I wear
and this hairshirt is woven from your brown hair.
This song is the cross that I bear,
bear it with me, bear with me, bear with me, be with me tonight,
I know that it isn't right, but be with me tonight.
"I go to school, I write exams,
if I pass, if I fail, if I drop out,
does anyone give a damn?
And if they do, they'll soon forget 'cause it won't take much for me
to show my life ain't over yet.
"I wake up scared, I wake up strange.
I wake up wondering if anything in my life is ever going to change.
I wake up scared, I wake up strange
and everything around me stays the same.
Chorus
"I couldn't tell you that I was wrong,
chickened out, grabbed a pen and paper, sat down and I wrote this song.
I couldn't tell you that you were right,
so instead I looked in the mirror,
watched TV, laid away all night.
"We've got these chains, hang 'round our necks,
people want to strangle us with them before we take our first breath.
Afraid of change, afraid of staying the same when temptation calls ...
Chorus
"When I was born, they looked at me and said;
What a good boy, what a smart boy, what a strong boy.
And when you were born, they looked at you and said;
What a good girl, what a smart girl, what a pretty girl, hey. . ."
Thursday, July 22, 2010
Wednesday, July 21, 2010
Can Human Beings Really Change?
This question haunts history and often haunts our personal lives as well. "Can he, can she, can I really change?" It was this question, I believe, that haunted Nicodemas, and why the old respected teacher came by night to seek wisdom from the young, country prophet. And, this prophet, who was more than a prophet said to Nicodemas: "You must be born again . . . of the Spirit of God."
I like the language "born again." It conveys the radical starting over, giving up, and newness of life from God that comes among us and to us in Jesus.
But, we, like Nicodemas, think and feel: "But, how can a man really start over (or, as Nicodemas literally said: "Can a man go back into his mother's womb?")? Or, as Jackson Browne sings: "The future's there for anyone to change, still you know it seems, it would be easier sometimes to change the past."
"Can he ever change? Can she ever change? Can I change?"
In a British novel I was reading yesterday, one of the characters gives an opinion on this question saying: "No, but people can learn to manage themselves a bit better."
From the human side, maybe that is a pretty good answer. Maybe it is when we learn to manage ourselves a little bit better that the soil is prepared for change. Maybe that is all we can do. Learn to manage ourselves a little bit better and hope for the change that comes from beyond, the Spirit that blows where it wills, and nobody knows where it starts and where it ends. It takes faith to believe we can learn to manage ourselves better, and faith to believe that that prepares the ground for a transformation that we can't manage but only accept with thanksgiving and wonder.
*For the story of Nicodemas, see the Gospel of John in the New Testament of the Christian Bible, the first part of chapter 3.
I like the language "born again." It conveys the radical starting over, giving up, and newness of life from God that comes among us and to us in Jesus.
But, we, like Nicodemas, think and feel: "But, how can a man really start over (or, as Nicodemas literally said: "Can a man go back into his mother's womb?")? Or, as Jackson Browne sings: "The future's there for anyone to change, still you know it seems, it would be easier sometimes to change the past."
"Can he ever change? Can she ever change? Can I change?"
In a British novel I was reading yesterday, one of the characters gives an opinion on this question saying: "No, but people can learn to manage themselves a bit better."
From the human side, maybe that is a pretty good answer. Maybe it is when we learn to manage ourselves a little bit better that the soil is prepared for change. Maybe that is all we can do. Learn to manage ourselves a little bit better and hope for the change that comes from beyond, the Spirit that blows where it wills, and nobody knows where it starts and where it ends. It takes faith to believe we can learn to manage ourselves better, and faith to believe that that prepares the ground for a transformation that we can't manage but only accept with thanksgiving and wonder.
*For the story of Nicodemas, see the Gospel of John in the New Testament of the Christian Bible, the first part of chapter 3.
Tuesday, July 20, 2010
Holy Words from a Holy Man
"I never lost hope that this great transformation would occur. Not only because of the great heroes . . . , but because of the courage of the ordinary men and women of my country. I always knew that deep down in every human heart, there is mercy and generosity. No one is born hating another person because of the color of his skin, or his background, or his religion. People must learn to hate, and if they can learn to hate, they can be taught to love, for love comes more naturally to the human heart than its opposite. Even in the grimmest times in prison, when my comrads and I were pushed to our limits, I would see a glimmer of humanity in one of the guards, perhaps just for a second, but it was enough to reassure me and keep me going. Man's goodness is a flame that can be hidden but never extinguished."
- Nelson Mandela, Long Walk to Freedom : The Autobiography of Nelson Mandela (Little,Brown & Co., NY 1994), p.622
- Nelson Mandela, Long Walk to Freedom : The Autobiography of Nelson Mandela (Little,Brown & Co., NY 1994), p.622
Blog ending on July 23, 2010
I started this blog in March of 2009 to do some writing about some things that mattered to me. I have enjoyed writing, but am not too interested in continuing the blog at this point. Thanks to those of you who read and thought along with me about some of these things. I may try another blog sometime, but I am going to close this one down by the end of the week.
Tuesday, July 13, 2010
Remembering the Classroom in College
I am remembering how it was when I was a student at Wake Forest University during 1981-1982. Wake Forest was at that time closely affiliated with the Southern Baptist Conference, but already having some conflicts between academic freedom and Southern Baptist expectations of the school.
I didn't know much at all what was going on in the administration or between the school's administration and the Southern Baptist leaders. But, I can describe my experience of a campus where the classroom was regularly characterized by an "anti-religious," attitude which was deeply committed to a modern scientific philosophy of life. And, I can describe an environment among students where there was a typical mix of very religious, non-religious, and a smaller, but noticable group of anti-religious college students. I was definitely very religious, but always seemed to strike up friendships and acquaintenceships with students from the anti-religious group. I also didn't fit in the organized religious groups on campus though I had some very close friends who did.
But, with the exception of classes in the religion department, involving religion/theology in intellectual discussions was fairly taboo. There was a chilling atmosphere in interdisciplinary humanities classes and in some philosophy and other classes with regard to religion. The implication was that religious reflection had no real place in forming the intellectual outlook of an educated person. So, there I was in my humanities honors seminar when the professor led us in a discussion of the role of science in understanding human emotion and commitment. He was a chemist and a smart man. At one point in the discussion, it seemed to me that the professor and his sheep (my fellow students) had reached a consensus that science would ultimately solve all problems, predict and explain human love, and well, "bring in the kingdom." So, I spoke up and said that there was something deep within us all that could not be probed by the best science, something that was "of God." I added something from Kierkegaard who I was reading very much at that time. Well, the class almost "fell out!" No one said anything, but the professor came alive. He joined me in a debate that went on for the last 30 minutes or so of class. One or two students piped up, and they did seem sincerely interested and took the same side as the professor over against my theological way of viewing human life.
I remember that day, and I remember my professor who spoke to me after class. I can't remember exactly what he said, but it was very nice, and I returned something like that in his direction as well. There is something about speaking from your heart and from your real commmitments that makes life -well, come alive. My professor spoke from his heart and his deep dedication to a way of life centered on science, and I spoke from my heart and my deep dedication to a way of life centered on the experience of a mystery, the mystery of God. I learned something that day that I won't forget. When two people are speaking truth, they recognize and want to hear what the other has to say, even if it is not the truth they really understand.
I didn't know much at all what was going on in the administration or between the school's administration and the Southern Baptist leaders. But, I can describe my experience of a campus where the classroom was regularly characterized by an "anti-religious," attitude which was deeply committed to a modern scientific philosophy of life. And, I can describe an environment among students where there was a typical mix of very religious, non-religious, and a smaller, but noticable group of anti-religious college students. I was definitely very religious, but always seemed to strike up friendships and acquaintenceships with students from the anti-religious group. I also didn't fit in the organized religious groups on campus though I had some very close friends who did.
But, with the exception of classes in the religion department, involving religion/theology in intellectual discussions was fairly taboo. There was a chilling atmosphere in interdisciplinary humanities classes and in some philosophy and other classes with regard to religion. The implication was that religious reflection had no real place in forming the intellectual outlook of an educated person. So, there I was in my humanities honors seminar when the professor led us in a discussion of the role of science in understanding human emotion and commitment. He was a chemist and a smart man. At one point in the discussion, it seemed to me that the professor and his sheep (my fellow students) had reached a consensus that science would ultimately solve all problems, predict and explain human love, and well, "bring in the kingdom." So, I spoke up and said that there was something deep within us all that could not be probed by the best science, something that was "of God." I added something from Kierkegaard who I was reading very much at that time. Well, the class almost "fell out!" No one said anything, but the professor came alive. He joined me in a debate that went on for the last 30 minutes or so of class. One or two students piped up, and they did seem sincerely interested and took the same side as the professor over against my theological way of viewing human life.
I remember that day, and I remember my professor who spoke to me after class. I can't remember exactly what he said, but it was very nice, and I returned something like that in his direction as well. There is something about speaking from your heart and from your real commmitments that makes life -well, come alive. My professor spoke from his heart and his deep dedication to a way of life centered on science, and I spoke from my heart and my deep dedication to a way of life centered on the experience of a mystery, the mystery of God. I learned something that day that I won't forget. When two people are speaking truth, they recognize and want to hear what the other has to say, even if it is not the truth they really understand.
Thursday, July 8, 2010
Some Thoughts about Religion and Compulsion and a better way
I am beginning to feel more and more strongly that the sheer graciousness of the Gospel, the freedom from compulsion and control that is ours in Jesus, is what people hunger for so much as they labor under the burdens of this life. Jesus told the religious leaders of his day that they loaded burdens on the backs of men and women that they (the leaders) couldn't bear. And, Jesus contrasted his way of dealing with people by saying: "Come unto me, all you who are weary and heavy laden, and I will give you rest. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light."
Religion has always been dominated by a compulsive spirit, a controlling spirit by means of guilt. Jesus' way is the opposite. I want nothing to do with force, judgement, compulsion. We could really learn something from the traditional Quaker way. I don't know if they live by it anymore. But, there is an insight and an experience in the old Quakers and the Quakers like Rufus Jones and Thomas Kelly of the 20th century. This insight has something to do with the fact that God is not a God of force and compulsion, and we human beings find it unimaginable that the greatest authority in all the world acts the opposite of how we envision authority and the opposite of how we tend to exercise it.
We really seem to miss the point of the cross. The conservative Protestant doctrine of strict substitutionary atonement which still dominates Protestant theology in this country, portrays God as your basic King who has to have satisfaction to appease his indignation at imperfection and sin in his subjects. Jesus and Paul portray God as the Father of the prodigal son, who is motivated by one overriding affection: love and the desire to heal and reconcile and reunite. The One who demands no satisfaction from his subjects, but only asks that his subjects stop and receive his loving embrace. And, this One will not drag us kicking and screaming into his kingdom. God is not a God of force. He continues to come to us, speak to us, but in the end, he will not force us to do anything. The law of the universe made by our gracious God is that you really can't force anyone to do anything in the end. God put within his creatures an image that cannot be violated. He will not violate that image by compelling anyone to do anything.
Parents who come to have genuine relationships with their children learn this over time. The only real authority you have in your children's lives is an authority that arises from the deepest trust and love between you and your child. Real authority is not based on fear or force or guilt or anything compulsive or controlling. It is like that because that is the way God has graciously and wisely structured his creation.
Some thoughts I am having as I think about what it would be like for a church to be a fellowship of true grace, where burdens are lightened and almost never increased.
Religion has always been dominated by a compulsive spirit, a controlling spirit by means of guilt. Jesus' way is the opposite. I want nothing to do with force, judgement, compulsion. We could really learn something from the traditional Quaker way. I don't know if they live by it anymore. But, there is an insight and an experience in the old Quakers and the Quakers like Rufus Jones and Thomas Kelly of the 20th century. This insight has something to do with the fact that God is not a God of force and compulsion, and we human beings find it unimaginable that the greatest authority in all the world acts the opposite of how we envision authority and the opposite of how we tend to exercise it.
We really seem to miss the point of the cross. The conservative Protestant doctrine of strict substitutionary atonement which still dominates Protestant theology in this country, portrays God as your basic King who has to have satisfaction to appease his indignation at imperfection and sin in his subjects. Jesus and Paul portray God as the Father of the prodigal son, who is motivated by one overriding affection: love and the desire to heal and reconcile and reunite. The One who demands no satisfaction from his subjects, but only asks that his subjects stop and receive his loving embrace. And, this One will not drag us kicking and screaming into his kingdom. God is not a God of force. He continues to come to us, speak to us, but in the end, he will not force us to do anything. The law of the universe made by our gracious God is that you really can't force anyone to do anything in the end. God put within his creatures an image that cannot be violated. He will not violate that image by compelling anyone to do anything.
Parents who come to have genuine relationships with their children learn this over time. The only real authority you have in your children's lives is an authority that arises from the deepest trust and love between you and your child. Real authority is not based on fear or force or guilt or anything compulsive or controlling. It is like that because that is the way God has graciously and wisely structured his creation.
Some thoughts I am having as I think about what it would be like for a church to be a fellowship of true grace, where burdens are lightened and almost never increased.
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