Living as if God were real

I shall try not to make this sound as if I'm having a crisis of faith, but for some time now I've been having a crisis of faith - sort of.

Richard Dawkins and people of his ilk are to blame. They argue strongly that God is not real and all experiences of him are just a delusion. My problem is that although I don't think they are right, I'm not 100% sure. The human mind is such a strange and complex thing that it strikes me as possible (though highly unlikely) for some kind of God-awareness to develop even if no God exists.

So I've been trying to ignore my niggling doubt and just get on with living as a Christian, trusting the God revealed in Jesus, saying my prayers, preaching the gospel, sharing God's love and so on. But the niggling doubt hasn't entirely gone away. This morning I think I've found (or been given by God) a logical argument which will banish that doubt. I can explain it best via a computer game. Mario Kart Wii would do as an example.

At the very basic level computer systems are just lot of binary bits being manipulated. Images on screen are just a bunch of dots. Yet out of these low level systems other higher level features emerge. I open and close windows (on my Mac) as if they were 'real' objects. I choose characters on Mario Kart Wii and steer them (often unsuccessfully) around racecourses. Some scientists would argue that human consciousness is 'merely' a higher level feature which emerges from lots of low level activity (i.e. the firing of neurons in the brain).

And here's my insight: Whether such higher level features are 'real' or not, it's good to act as if they do exist. When I play Mario Kart Wii I couldn't care less that the characters are just a collection of pixels. I drive that Kart as if something 'real' was taking place. I even apply this principle to human relationships. I know that in conversation with someone both our words are being shaped by firing of neurons in the brain and twitching of assorted muscles in the mouth and throat. Yet I act as if there was a 'real' human mind in my interlocutor communicating information to me. In fact I would go as far as to say that to all intents and purposes the Karts and racecourses on the Wii and the human personalities in the people I meet DO exist. I interact with them. I enjoy interacting with them. This is what life is about.

Why should I not approach my faith in God in the same way. OK, the possibility still exists that my faith only arises out of the peculiar complexity of the human brain. But so what! My faith exists. God is as at least as real as any of the above 'higher level features' which I've been describing. There is no point harbouring that niggling doubt any longer. However it has come about, God is part of my life and I ought to get on with loving him and serving him. Which will be far more fun and far more rewarding than managing to drive around the Rainbow Road three times without falling off.

A life cut short

During his ministry, Jesus seems to have taken special care to train up a privileged inner core of disciples, consisting of just three men. For example, they were the only ones (other than her parents) allowed to see him raise the daughter of Jairus; they were the only ones who saw him transfigured on the mountain and talking with Moses and Elijah; they were the only ones invited to accompany him in his anguished prayer in the garden of Gethsemane.

This level of intimacy was clearly an important preparation for their ministry. Peter became the first spokesman of the disciples and was a key figure (arguably THE key figure) in the early days of the church. John had a long ministry and (at least according to tradition) was writing well into his old age, recording for us the life of Jesus in his gospel, giving us a glimpse behind the scenes in his book of Revelation, and dispensing vital wisdom about love in his letters.

And James? He did very little of note and then was killed in the first wave of persecution. What a waste! In fantasy fiction some authors (I'm thinking of George R R Martin and Brent Weeks) seem to delight in killing off major characters just as they are about to fulfil their potential. As a reader this is immensely frustrating. You journey with the character through all the hardships of his early life, see his character being moulded, rejoice as he overcomes difficulties, and then just as he has developed into a great leader and you are looking forward to reading of his great deeds, up pops an assassin of some kind and swiftly despatches him from the story.

Having noticed that James was the same kind of character - full of potential, trained for greatness, then his life cut tragically short - I couldn't at first see what I might learn from the insight. Then I realised fantasy fiction may provide an answer. One effect of reading books by the authors I've mentioned is that, if you know the author is not afraid to kill off major characters you are genuinely worried when other well-liked characters are in danger.

The early death of James shows that there are no guarantees in the Christian life. To take my own life as an example: Just because I have been trained and moulded for ordained ministry doesn't mean that I get to fulfil my potential. And I'm not thinking now of premature departure from this life, I'm thinking of how easily I could let all the potential go to waste through my own actions (or inaction). Just because God called me to ministry, and has given me some of the gifts and graces needed for the work, doesn't mean I can rest on my laurels and expect everything to be hunky-dory. James reminds me that even those with the greatest potential don't always live to fulfil it. When people look back at my life, will they say 'he started well; shame he never lived up to that early potential'?

Restoration

The book "Fathered by God" has stirred me up somewhat. The author's enthusiasm for fly-fishing, hunting (with guns) and dangerous mountain climbing is a long way from my own (current) passions for cryptic crosswords, fantasy literature and board games. But I was intrigued by the idea of a man (yes, it's a book aimed at men) needing to grow through the stages of cowboy, warrior, lover, king and sage.

Where am I on that scale? My vocation has brought me responsibility for the spiritual well-being of two churches, not to mention rest of the Methodist circuit. I should be of the age and experience to be a king, and soon ready to dispense the life-long wisdom of a sage. But I'm not convinced I'm ready. I've not been tested as a warrior by hard spiritual battles on the way. I still find pleasure (see above list of passions) in the simple adventures of the cowboy.

I also felt a little envious of the author's apparent ability to hear answers from God when he had prayed. Why doesn't God speak to me like that? Well yesterday he did. I almost missed it as I was reading through the Old Testament lectionary reading for the coming Sunday. But something made me stop and re-read Jeremiah 15:19. It sounded very much as if God was speaking to me and giving me hope that it's not too late to change - for example, to let go of my addiction to trivial leisure pursuits and use the time more wisely in taking up more important spiritual challenges.

"Therefore this is what the Lord says: If you repent, I will restore you that you may serve me; if you utter worthy, not worthless, words, you will be my spokesman."

We are not alone

This is one of those obvious things everybody knows, but which doesn't always sink in. We are not alone. Or to be more accurate: the thought which has gradually penetrated my skull this morning (as I was reading about God acting as a father to us) is that "I am not alone". Most of my life I behave as if everything was up to me either to sort out or to put up with. This is not true. The point of having a heavenly Father is that he actively wants to help me. He wants to show me the best path to follow. He wants to give me the knowledge and experience I need to walk that path. He wants to join me on the journey and do for me some of the things I can't (yet) do for myself.

Hopefully, by writing down these basic and already-known truths, I will remember the full impact of them. Even in such a mundane job as going through the accumulated post (the next task looming large on the horizon) God is with me to guide, train and participate.

People Need Jesus

I've just returned from a hugely encouraging 'Churches Together' AGM. The keynote speaker was a Baptist minister sharing with us all that God has been doing through churches working together in Winchester.

One phrase which struck me powerfully (and hence I need to record it) is the answer to the question of what we can unite around. Not our ecclesiology. Not our theology. But our mission. To quote the speaker: "If you agree with me that people need Jesus, then we can work together." I think that is an excellent phrase to unite around.

It may be that some see Jesus as the only one who can save people from eternal damnation. It may be that some see Jesus as the one who welcomes all people into God's unconditional love. It may be that some believe Jesus is encountered best through bread and wine, and some believe he is encountered best in the service of others. But surely one thing that all Christians can agree on is that people need Jesus. To disagree would be to say that people can cope with life perfectly well without Jesus - which is surely not a Christian viewpoint.

Anyway, the phrase has reminded me what mission is all about. People need Jesus. So what am I doing to help people recognise that need and discover the difference that Jesus can make?

A kick up the backside

Life is good. I am very contented. I have no major worries. Family, health, finance - all ticking along nicely.

I perceive this as something of a problem, highlighted by the question "These days what am I passionate about?" I would find it difficult to come up with an honest answer which didn't make me sound idle and self-centred. (Possible answers include trivial pastimes on the computer and organising my iPod - as I said, nothing which puts me in a good light.) I know what I ought to be passionate about - communicating the gospel; being a follower of Christ; helping make this world a better place. So why don't these things stir me and motivate me?

OK, let's not paint too harsh a picture: Yes, they do stir me a bit. But not nearly enough.

I once read a prayer (it's in one of my books somewhere and I'm sure I'll come across it again one day) which ended with the heartfelt plea, "Give us a kick up the backside, Lord." I need to make that my own personal prayer...

Lord, shake me out of my contentment. Stir me up. Ignite my fire. Renew my passion. I realise that for this to happen it may mean some big problem or issue landing on my lap, but if that's what it takes, then so be it. I could happily drift along like this indefinitely, but it wouldn't be good for me, and it wouldn't do much to advance the cause of the kingdom. So give me a kick up the backside, Lord. May the next blog entry be one in which I record that I have been well and truly kick-started!

When did the universe fall?

Thanks to Michael Lloyd’s book Cafe Theology I have begun to redefine my views on the doctrine of a fallen creation. He has helped me overcome what I thought was an insurmountable obstacle.

My old view was this: Suffering and pain is an unavoidable part of the universe. God’s creation is vast and intricate. He has produced a cosmos in which the basic forces and elementary particles combine to produce a range of elements, coalescing over billions of years into stars and planets. He has created the fundamental laws of nature by which life has gradually involved into the world we now know and love. Unfortunately the process by which life is formed includes planetary upheavals such as earthquakes, volcanoes and hurricanes. The mutations which are vital to the evolution of human beings also give rise to disease and disability.

Just as you can’t have a system of mathematics which has only even numbers and no odd numbers, I cannot see how it is scientifically possible to have a universe in which life in all its glory exists but without any form of destruction or chaos or pain. My daughter asked me many years ago “Why did God make the wind?” This was said as a complaint because she was finding it difficult to walk against a strong headwind. But the question prompted me to think how, if I were God, I would organise the world so that the air never moved at more than say 20 mph (a bracing, but non-destructive rate of motion.) Given that air currents are a consequence of a spinning planet and the unequal warming effects of the sun, I concluded that the only ways to avoid strong winds would be to create beings capable of surviving in no atmosphere, or to change fundamentally the laws of physics such that gravity and light behaved differently so we could live on a flat earth.

I was reasonably happy with my conclusion. My view that natural disasters or diseases were simply an essential part of the fabric of creation helped to answer the question “Why does God allow earthquakes?” The answer: “Because without earthquakes the earth would be a barren rock and life would not exist.” And similar answers could be given for all other forms of suffering. Even God in all his wisdom couldn’t produce a system of laws which gave rise to life but didn’t allow for any harmful consequences.

But I recognised one big problem with this view. I was essentially arguing that our universe is the best possible one God could have created. No other kind of universe could give rise to living creatures. So what about heaven? My concept of heaven is that it is a perfect place – no more tears, no more pain, no more death – and it is more real, more physical, more solid than our present existence. The present universe is a pale shadow of the new creation God has in store for us. But if God can create a perfect heaven – a place where life is lived to the full without any of the drawbacks of earth – then this present universe is not after all the best God could have come up with. You see my dilemma?

Michael Lloyd’s view is that this universe is NOT how God intended it to be. The doctrine of the fall shows that God doesn’t always get what he wants. He wanted Adam and Eve to leave a particular fruit untouched. Instead they ate it. Even if we take this story as a metaphor, the principle is surely correct. God doesn’t want people to suffer. He didn’t plan for earthquakes or diseases. So what went wrong?

To say that we humans are to blame because we have made wrong choices is only part of an answer. God made us as free agents. He wants us to love one another. If we choose not to love one another, then people get hurt. Murder (for example) is not God’s wish or God’s plan. You can explain some suffering as a consequence of God loving us enough to give us freedom. And this is real freedom – he doesn’t step in to interfere whenever we choose to act in a hurtful way. But you can’t explain tsunamis or cancer in those terms.

Violence, geological upheaval, carnivorousness, disease, destruction and death – these have been around for much longer than human beings, and do seem (as I argue above) to be part of the fabric of the universe. So if the universe itself is not as God really intended, something must have gone wrong at a very early stage.

There are hints of this in the Biblical narrative. The serpent was clearly up to mischief, working against God before the fall of Adam and Eve. Also, part of God’s purpose for the human race was to “subdue” the earth (Genesis 1:28) which implies that creation was not quite what God yet wanted – it needed someone to take control and make it as it should be.

Lloyd’s suggestion is based on the assumption that the physical universe is not the only thing in existence. There is a spiritual dimension to reality, inhabited by spiritual creatures who (like us) have been given free will and work with God in all his activities. Before the dawn of time, some of these ‘angels’ (to use the traditional term for them) chose to work against God. The ‘fall’ had already taken place before God’s creation began. Hence the universe, though essentially good (Genesis 1:30), had a flawed streak running through it. Part of the role of men and women was to mend this flaw and bring creation to perfection. We have failed to do this and instead chosen to act in ways which have made the situation worse.

However, all is not lost. God’s ultimate plan is for a world in which the lion and the lamb can coexist peacefully, and he has shown us in Jesus what it means to tackle the flawed nature of the world head on. Jesus cured disease, made the disabled whole and even took control over the wind and the waves. His reaction to the storm was not “oh well, it’s an inevitable part of creation that we just have to put up with”; it was “Peace! Be still!”

So my view has changed. And hopefully for the better. No longer should I shrug my shoulders at natural disaster or disease and say “well it’s the downside of living in an environment that can produce life”. Instead I should resist all forms of suffering as Jesus did, saying “This is not as it should be. This is not what God wanted. How can I help to put it right?”

I am still left with some deep philosophical and scientific questions. I’m not quite sure about the nature of heaven. What is the perfect world God is going to bring about? Is it an entirely new order of creation based on even more awesome laws of nature which I can’t possibly imagine? Or is it a version of our present universe with its flaws fixed? And if the latter in what way can they be fixed? Will human beings be able to turn off storms at will whenever they threaten to be too destructive? Will lions become herbivores?

But I’ve spent quite long enough already. Leaving such questions on one side... my shift of thinking is from “Suffering is unfortunate but it’s not God’s fault because it’s an inevitable consequence of a universe which can produce life” to “Suffering is not an inevitable part of the universe. God didn’t want it and is doing everything possible (short of removing our freedom) to defeat suffering and create a better world.”

- - - - -

Further thoughts in answer to the questions in the penultimate paragraph:

(I tried to add this as a comment but it was way too long)

Consider the game of chess. A playing board, 32 pieces and a few simple rules. Yet from this comes an immense variety of game-play, not to mention books, tournaments, conventions, periodicals and grand masters. It’s amazing that simple laws can give rise to such fascinating, enjoyable and meaningful complexity. There is joy and fulfilment in outwitting your opponent. There is also disappointment and frustration when the game goes against you. The rules of chess have given rise to the pleasure of winning and the pain of losing. Would it be possible to have a different set of rules which led to all players experiencing the thrill of winning and no player downcast at having lost? It seems unlikely.

My view of the present universe is that it is like the game of chess. A few basic components and a few rules about how they interact – but all created so well that they give rise to beauty, variety, life, relationships, pleasure and pain. The fact that God can come up with simple laws of nature that lead eventually to people enjoying such diverse pleasures as sex, chocolate and The Lord of the Rings – well it’s mind-bogglingly awesome. The trouble is that those same rules lead to supernova, venomous snakes and swords. Would it be possible for God to create a different set of rules which led to just as much variety, complexity, wonder and joy in the universe, but without anything detrimental?

Yesterday my answer would have been no. This awesome universe is as good as it gets. There are no conceivable laws which will produce only pleasure and never pain. As I indicated above the problem with this answer is that if God can’t do it for earth, he can’t do it for heaven either. If there’s no better possible universe, then this one is what we’re stuck with.

Today I have two possible answers. Both effectively saying yes.

a) Just because I cannot conceive of new rules which would fit the bill, doesn’t mean such rules are impossible. Maybe there are a set of rules by which the universe could have come into being as a perfect place with no hint of sorrow or suffering in any part of creation. Such rules would have to be even more awesome than our existing laws of nature. Scientists exploring such a new creation would be even more gob-smacked than they are now at the beautiful way in which everything hangs together.

b) The rough and tumble nature of the universe wasn’t really a problem before life came into being. Stardust being sucked into black holes and volcanoes vomiting clouds of ash is hardly what you would call ‘suffering’ because inanimate matter doesn’t suffer. It is people who feel pain, not rocks. (Though there is a debate to be had as to quite where you draw the line at defining suffering – a dog going hungry? a flea going hungry? a bacterium being destroyed by an anti-body (or whatever it is that destroy bacteria)? a grapevine being pruned?) Basically it is only when life (arguably the higher form of animal life) developed that you could talk about the world being a place in which creatures suffered.

So maybe God’s perfect idea of creation is not radically different from what we have now. It started off the same, but in God’s ideal world human life would somehow rise above the problems and subdue them and experience pure joy. Imagine an accomplished hang-glider going out in the roughest possible winds. The elements can be massively chaotic and threatening and the hang-glider experiences nothing but joy and exhilaration as she navigates the currents.

Is that an image which illustrates how we should somehow get on top of creation and enjoy it to the full without fear or pain? And if so, how can that be possible in the circumstances? We can overcome much suffering through the ordinary means at our disposal (our words and actions), but not all.

Perhaps God’s plan is for us to be like Jesus in having the ability to impose our will directly on creation. What this means in scientific terms is that we would have the power to change the rules. The built-in laws of the universe say that the wind and the waves are going to move in this particular dangerous and disruptive way, but when they threaten our safety we can say “that’s enough! stop it!” and the universe itself bends to our command. The built-in laws say that these leg muscles have wasted away and won’t function, but we can say “walk!” and the cells and sinews and chemicals in the body will adjust to enable a lame man to walk.

When things happen which ‘break’ the laws of nature we call it a miracle. Perhaps miracles are no more than imposing a higher law. I’m not wanting to move into the realms of ESP and telekinesis and mind over matter and all that. I’m just speculating. Jesus was so in tune with God that he was able to bring to bear God’s loving purposes (safety for the disciples; health for the sick) in direct contradiction to the way the universe would ‘normally’ behave. And he promised we would do greater things.

So is it not that the problematic pain-containing universe needs fixing, but rather that it needs taming? And is it the Spirit of God working through us that can accomplish that? Allowing us to be so in tune with God’s ultimate purposes that we can participate in exercising conscious and loving control over the wildness of the universe?

And what if we could all exercise such control? The image springs to mind of a world populated by powerful magicians who can do what they want with a spoken word – but that’s not the picture I’m trying to describe. If life was just like now but with everyone having power over nature, there would still be arguments, factions, disagreements, curses etc etc. That’s not the kind of world God wants any more than I do.

The kingdom is where God’s rule is acknowledged, where people love one another freely and self-sacrificially, where everyone finds joy in living life to the full and experiences relationships with one another and with God as they were intended to be. In such a context disease and disaster would not be allowed to intrude and spoil things. The potential for suffering might still be ever-present, built into the very fabric of the universe, but as soon as any kind of problem started to raise its ugly head, someone would take responsibility to say (on God’s behalf) “Stop it! None of that!”

Now that truly would be heaven.