drop the negativity

Negativity as an overall stance on life is part of what I tried to describe in my entry about a symptom of real despair. Such people will retort that negative expectations are more often, and more likely, right. They could also claim, quite self-evidently, that looking out for problems, mistakes, and flaws is a much better tactic for good achievement than merely shrugging one's shoulders and "hoping for the best". I'm not arguing against those points.

Nevertheless, acknowledging the negatives in every part of life is distinct from treating negativity as an "axiom" or core ingredient of perspective. For the mature, a state which some never reach, attitude and response aren't controlled by external events. Two people in an identical negative situation will feel persecuted; this is only natural. What separates them is the pivotal question "Now what?" The person who structures their beliefs with negativity will answer "I expected this all along. I can try to do something about it, but it probably won't work." The person who has dropped negativity will answer "This is a setback. My reaction to it defines who I choose to be. I refuse to assent to this, because that would mean I'm complicit in it. Even if I fail, I will do something about it."

You can be realistic without being negative. You can be prudent and shrewd without being negative. You can be skeptical without being negative. You can find faults without being negative. Badness is out there, everywhere you care to search. The negativity lies in pretending that badness is all there is.

two unconditional loves

As you might expect, the first unconditional love is from God to fallen creation, including us.

The second unconditional love is the reciprocation of love from us to God regardless of Him not being reliable in the common ways we define reliability in our everyday lives.

honest, courteous debate is not an inquisition

A Christian who questions widespread Christian beliefs or openly probes the foundations of Christian doctrine shouldn't expect his or her own statements to go unquestioned. Someone who takes a stand for a viewpoint that is incompatible with the rock on which others have built their entire lives shouldn't expect them to be immediately convinced. Nor should they expect everyone in the "conversation" (that word has undeniably better style and PR-value than "debate" or "argument", doesn't it?) to claim that contradictory statements can both be correct and therefore nobody is ever "wrong". In fact, it's even true that when people are discussing issues whose resolution determines what the very definition of "heresy" is, one or more of them just is a "heretic". (Of course, it's still terribly insensitive and dismissive and nonconstructive to apply the label to a fellow Christian who happens to think differently.)

It's simply unrealistic to talk or blog about extremely important ideas in a casual or, worse, intellectually sloppy manner. I have no problem with continual review of the traditional, time-honored stances of Christian thought. My contention is that when it happens, passionate dialogue inevitably "comes with the territory", and also that it's unfair to only allow one "side" (we're all on the same one, ultimately...) to apply critical thinking to the other, as if one side's statements are all sincere seeking after the truth and the other's are all reflexive narrow-minded defensiveness.

a raspberry smoothie defeats existentialism every time

Earlier this week, I was standing in a long, slow line at a grocery store in the evening, and my mind wandered for a while since I had no other options. I began to question the way I spend my life and what I want my future to be and possible changes to align the two. I pondered what characteristics and actions had most likely produced my current circumstances and habits. Eventually I made it out to my car with the groceries, still feeling pensive and swallowed by ennui.

On the way back I bought a raspberry smoothie at a drive-thru (no, I don't do this regularly). After about four drawn-out sips, all my prior misgivings evaporated. The questions were still there, but I was now floating untouched above them: consumption and aimless enjoyment victorious.

Now just imagine if I'd had the latest cell phone model with me when I was standing in the checkout line. I could've played some game or gotten caught up on my twitters, and completely avoided a slough of teleological sinkholes.

God is not reliable

Before beginning, I must reiterate that my writing consists of my personal beliefs, thoughts, feelings, and ideals (but does not always match, as I anonymously admit, my actual behavior). Also, neither my experiences nor doctrines nor biblical interpretations are necessarily similar to other Christians. In any case, I'm compelled to state a conclusion that I'm sure many Christians would contest: God is not reliable.

My meaning rests on to what "reliable" refers. In this case, I don't intend to assert that God is disloyal, or uncaring, or untrustworthy, or implacable (or that He won't eliminate evil eventually). My point is that God simply cannot be relied upon in any of the obvious ways that humanity relies upon other things. My secondary point, which immediately follows, is that it's despicably dishonest to say and/or pretend otherwise.

For clarity, I shall enumerate.

• God is not reliable like a machine. A machine's reliability is that, assuming the machine is fully intact and functional, it will carry out the same purpose in the same way. A calculator will reach the same answer for the same calculation (it doesn't "think", by the way - it routes electrons). An engine will convert fuel into work. A ramp will transfer between vertical and horizontal motion. God does not exhibit mechanical reliability. Confronted with an identical situation, God cannot be relied upon to act identically. Confronted with an identical prayer, God cannot be relied upon to respond identically. And so forth.
• God is not reliable like a saint. A saint's reliability is that, assuming the saint has sufficient integrity and self-control, the saint will make a moral decision in a predictable way. God does not exhibit saintly reliability. Hypothetically, if a saint had to make the same "tough choices" as God, he or she wouldn't do what God does. For instance, if one of two people must die, and the first person is unashamedly selfish but the second is generous, an "all-powerful saint" would select the first to die (again, given the lousy requirement that one of the two will die). This is emphatically not the constant outcome in reality, where God is all-powerful and holy yet the universe doesn't unfold as if a saint was "running things". And this holds for the meting out of both punishments and rewards.
  
• God is not reliable like money. Money's reliability is that, assuming the currency retains sufficient value and acceptability, money will enable someone to meet needs and, with the remainder, wants. God does not exhibit monetary reliability. People's needs aren't always met, regardless of what they believe, do, and pray. Admittedly, to some degree the needs of a person are negotiable; we few who are fortunate to live in the rich part of the world don't realize how little is necessary for painful survival. But even if only considering needs to the extent of this minimal baseline, not everyone who trusts God to provide will fare as well as those who somehow have money (or indeed anything tradable).
  
• God is not reliable like health care. Health care's reliability is that, assuming the treatment is done well, health care relieves and sometimes cures sickness and injury. God does not exhibit medical reliability. He does not heal everyone nor prevent all accidents. Prayer is no guarantee that He will.
  
• God is not reliable like natural laws. The reliability of natural laws is that, assuming the laws are correctly understood and applied, reality proceeds along the same patterns as before. God does not exhibit predictability. His responses, much less His initiatives, don't follow well-worn paths. No matter how much we learn about Him, we cannot reduce Him to certainties.
  

I believe that honest Christians have no choice but to reject the notion that God is reliable. Having rejected the notion, they shouldn't proclaim it. There are a number of plausible reasons and theories for why God is perfect and powerful while not being reliable (e.g. He knows better than us, His goal isn't to make life easy, He is simultaneously just and merciful, etc.). Perhaps Christians should conscientiously cease to trumpet God's reliability and divert their focus to explaining why He is not.

replace not negate

Previously I identified and commented on the scapegoat everyone can agree on: "American culture". Since then, it has remained a convenient, popular, invincible, and vague nemesis. Christians invoke it so very often in sermons, bible studies, etc. (And if a Christian hankers for an additional ever-trendy target for criticism and/or a rationalization for church ineffectiveness, there's always the "Christian subculture".)

In case this isn't clear: I'm tired of hearing it. As supposed residents of a new upside-down kingdom, we should do more than continually point out that the prevailing culture is defective. Each accusation against "the culture" should precede a counterpoint, an alternative, perhaps adhering to the format: "You have heard it said...but I say..." The replacement must be unambiguous and specific and either meet approximately the same set of needs or contain an explanation for why not.

Don't bother to establish the failure of culture unless providing something better.

Which Faramir represents your response to temptation?

The book Two Towers by J.R.R. Tolkien was adapted into a hugely profitable movie some years ago. One of the changes that long-time readers easily spotted was a divergence in the character "Faramir". And this difference illustrates two responses to temptation, which in Tolkien's trilogy is clearly exemplified by the "attraction" of the One Ring.

• In the movie, Faramir sees the Ring and chooses to only consider the good that it might do, despite also seeing the manner in which the Ring twisted Gollum's mind. His mindset is "ends justify the means", and he willfully ignores the issue of the Ring's consequences. The extended edition of the movie includes other scenes that show a deep rift between Faramir and his father due to favoritism for his brother. Faramir allows this pain to control his reaction to the Ring's temptation, acting out of that instead of acting out of a clear-headed appreciation of the importance and danger of the Ring. He feels that he must earn love. Instead of turning away from the Ring immediately, he keeps it close to him for a while until later circumstances force him to observe the dark truth of what the Ring is.
• In the book, Faramir is highly-principled, perceptive, and wise. He recognizes that both the Ring and Frodo's quest are beyond his authority to control. Although he could take the Ring by force, he manages to learn from his brother's mistake rather than repeating it. He doesn't need to entertain the thought of the Ring's power for very long before rejecting it. He lets it go.

Temptation is as strong as the One Ring's "pull", especially when someone has allowed it to rule him or her. When it speaks to you and you could easily reach out your hand to grasp it, will you respond like movie Faramir or book Faramir? Will you act out of past pain and fear and confusion and selfishness, ponder the temptation in your mind, and close your eyes to the likely outcomes, then give in? Or will you act out of integrity and humility, eject the temptation from your mind, and consider a full view of the likely outcomes, then turn away?

(I have listened to the commentary and interviews about the movie. I realize that the book version would have reduced the seductive power of the Ring in the eyes of the audience, and the detour to Osgiliath furnished an effective and exciting climax to Frodo's storyline in the second movie. It raises a secondary question that's also interesting: like the movie's portrayal of the Ring, do you see temptation as close to irresistible for any mere man? Or closer to the book's portrayal of the Ring, do you see temptation as conquerable by any mere man, so long as he refuses to give it a foothold in his mind? To be fair, it's notable that in the first movie, both Aragorn and Gandalf succeed in leaving the Ring with Frodo when he offers it willingly.)