This post will be a bit more introspective than many of the previous, so be warned. However, I want to get it down into a more coherent form, and maybe other people can relate. I think most of this is in the comments to previous posts, and maybe even in some posts themselves, but I'll put it down here. I know that I personally like hearing other people's introspection; that's why I read, because that's the closest I can get to figuring out how other people actually live, from the inside. So, here's the more psychological reasons behind my struggles in the faith, both recently and stretching back for a while.
More or less, I just don't really trust anyone. I've never been good at trust period. I was raised in a house where the motto was "If you want it done right, do it yourself." Group projects always disgusted me, because I was usually the one who would pull the group along. I haven't really had many good experiences with relying on other people, and this along with my control-freak personality does not really incline me towards delegation.
My current theological crises then arise from the fact that, built upon this, I feel betrayed by the people who were supposed to know what they were talking about. My churches growing up didn't really know what they were talking about, and I am deeply suspicious concerning the Evangelical scholars in the field, past and present. I may not be the biblical scholar that they are, but I am training to be an expert in analyzing assumptions, following logical flow, and detecting subtleties and nuances; it is in these areas where the scholars seem to be severely deficient. At any rate, if I am underestimating them, they certainly aren't putting forth their best reasonings for me to see, which leaves me in the same position. I tried for a time to put aside my own misgivings, to tell myself that those who have studied things longer really understand the field better than me, and I should listen to them. However, two problems have shaken my confidence: 1) when I ask the relevant questions, I can never get the answers I need, and 2) for every able scholar one one side of an issue, there appears to be an equally competent scholar on the other side; without being biased toward a side already, which one should I trust? Granted, sometimes reason can guide one towards one side or another, but that takes a lot of work and time to look through the issues oneself and there are too many issues.
Perhaps there is another book, another author, out there for me to read, another person for me to talk to, but to be perfectly honest, I'm weary. I've gone through too many books which other people have raved about, which have either a) made me want to start a bonfire, or b) have presented interesting views which at least present something more sophisticated, but which leave me wondering why I should accept the view in question.
The problem is, that while I have lost trust in others, I also realize how little trust I can place in myself and my own reasonings. If everyone else thinks that they are so correct when their work is so shoddy, why am I any exception? Fair is fair, after all. So I can neither ignore the crowd around me and trust to myself, nor can I listen to it. I can only hope that, maybe, God will have mercy on me. It doesn't appear that he gives that mercy out terribly liberally, however. So, in the meantime, all I have to go off of is the beauty of various proposals. I'm inclined to think that aesthetics is not a terribly reliable guide to truth, but what else do I have, besides a bit a reason to guide it along every now and then? Most skeptics aren't really all that involved in their skepticism; true skepticism leaves you a wreck, as you think that there is something tremendously important which you need to know (you can't take the easy way out and say "We can't know anything. Oh well."), and so you pursue it even though you don't think you can ever find it.
I think that I could even handle this, except for Calvinism and soteriological exclusivism. I can intellectually deny the former, and at least don't see much in the way of grounds for the latter (and this through philosophy, theology, and biblical studies). However, they still hold a pull on my emotions, and as I don't trust my reason, I can never completely be rid of them. People within the fold seem to have no problem asserting such doctrines, and even (at least with Calvinism) talk about what wonderful hope they offer. Frankly, they terrify me. Faith is a struggle for me, the hardest work that anyone could posit. Why should I think that I am one of God's elect? Sure, I could simply give up my integrity and relax, and let faith take over, but I have decided that if Christianity and the pursuit of Truth take different paths, than I must take the latter. I could let go and simply do what seems to be the best thing insofar as I can see, except that exclusivism tells me that it has to be exactly the right thing or I'm screwed. People tell me to "Just have faith;" I really want to smack those people. I'm sure that this "simple" faith they talk about pulls in almost a complete theology in and of itself.
Most Christians with whom I talk want to simplify the situation, either through special experiences (which I do not have much of), rational arguments (which never adequately respond to objections), or brute force ("Christianity is right. Accept it."). Quite honestly, the church disgusts me with its naiveté. It can't even help those within it who struggle, let alone outside of it. I'm not really sure where God is in all of this; I hear the people around me discussing his every move in our lives, but it looks to me as if blind chance could be an equally possible suggestion. When things go right, people talk about Providence, but they don't acknowledge the negatives in life in the same fashion. They tell me that God works everything for good, but the advice I get sounds more like how I can bear whatever happens, irregardless of whether there is a God. The practical tips people give concerning the Christian life seem to be more psychological than anything, and eerily reminiscent to what I hear from Buddhist thinkers.
I am currently a Christian because I like Christ's moral example better than anyone else's, and because I find some rational arguments which can tip me over the fence, even if they don't convince me. Beyond that, I just can't stand the church in which I was raised, or related churches. Intellection for me isn't an abstract game, it is a way of communicating the problems of the world in an honest way, to at least attempt to love those who have the courage to do the same by sharing my paltry insights so that we may make it through this life together. I just find depressingly few people who are willing to take the journey, and I can't help but think that this is to some extent a deep, deep problem within the church, something which reaches out of its roots instead of a surface issue. Protestantism has been spoiled for me, and I don't really feel up to the heartache involved in more sifting through the drivel, trying to find some answers. Contemporary Catholic congregations may be just as bad if not worse, but I have more to work from in terms of the history. Maybe this isn't a very good reason for conversion, but I don't even really consider it conversion any more; I'm outside the Protestant church as much as the Catholic presently.
So, that is my current struggle of this nut in a nutshell. I want to be able to convert to something, to commit to something, but confusion, doubt, and fear surround everything. I want to be free of this so that I can go forward. I want to know some sort of peace so that I can be free to love, to leave the introspection. But in the meantime, I must remain. I can't bear to do to others what I've seen happening, and I am scared that I will choose the wrong path; I have no reason to think that I will choose rightly, or that I will have much help along the way, but I'll mislead more people around me by standing still than by pressing forward.
6 comments:
Michael,
I'd like to ask a question that's purely theoretical and probably unhelpful. I'm just trying to find out how far down this rabit hole really goes. :)
Leaving aside hermeneutical, epistemological, and any secondary theological issues, and focusing simply on the God of theism, viz. roughly the God of the Bible, is God trustworthy?
I realize that such bracketing is beset with difficulties, but I think that you can figure out what I'm getting at. Let's stipulate a fairly generic view of God, as far as possible uncolored by further theoretical or sectarian considerations. Then, again, the question: Is God a se trustworthy?
Ah, I think you're getting right at the heart of the matter. The problem is, the question is incomplete; there is never a free-floating "trustworthiness," but rather trustworthiness for a specific task (for lack of a better word coming to my head right now). So, can I count on God bringing everything to the best of all possible worlds, in the end? Sure (although then I must ask, can any finite good mean anything compared to God's already infinite good, whether there is a best possible world, and other such questions). Can I count on God utilizing me and those I influence in the best way toward accomplishing this goal? Again, sure. Now, can I trust that God has my personal best interests in mind, not necessarily short-term, but long-term things like salvation and sanctification? Can I trust that God will keep me from harming others if I fall into error? Not unless I'm a universalist, or a very strong inclusivist. Otherwise, I face the fact that most people throughout space and time, despite their honest struggles and reliance on God's mercy, are doomed, and dragging others down with them (perhaps, say, Al-Ghazali, or Ramanuja, or pushing a bit further, Shinran?).
Thanks for your persistent honesty!
I appreciate being able to have these conversations. I hope I am not exploiting your present spiritual/intellectual/etc. crisis for my own exercise, but I am being exercised by reading and reflecting on your comments here. I believe that dialogue can improve the character, intellect, and specific arguments and beliefs of the interlocutors; that is why I still do philosophy. (Unless it is really out of a subconscious, involuntary lust for the good money in this field!) I think that my participation in the conversation you've started improves me in these ways; I honestly hope that my participation may also be of some benefit to you. I am committed to all the Christian "building up your brother" stuff.
I find myself comparing (& contrasting) your position with mine at present; mine is rather undefined. I am romantically attracted to a firm commitment to a specific tradition of faith, but I don't always know which one. I get warm fuzzy feelings talking about Anabaptist-Mennonite tradition, but also about high-church Presbyterian and Anglo-Catholic traditions. I don't know that soteriological exclusivism has been one of the attractors for me, but I have always admired the ideal I have in my head of sound, passionate Reformed theology, even though I am not much of a Calvinist.
I don't think I'm "out" of the Protestant Church (if there is such a thing), but I don't feel decisively "in" a particular tradition/denomination at present, either, and this leaves me feeling dissatisfied and uncomfortable.
I probably have fewer, or at least less acute, intellectual concerns about core claims such as the divinity and authority of Christ, and the exclusivity of Christ for salvation, than you do at present. But I don't have a life full of profound religious experiences, I know I don't have a decisive response to some good agnostic objections, and I my experience agrees whole-heartedly with yours, I think, in your observation that much of the advice given to Christians by people within the church is generic: generic ethics, psychology, or whatever.
One of my big questions right now is: Does it matter that Christianity be original and shockingly distinctive from other lifestyles or worldviews? For example, can community and love of enemies be core values for the Church *and* be embraced fully by some non-Christians?
I agree with you that "trust" is a relative term--it should properly come with an object. (i.e., Do I trust God for *what*?)
On what I think are my good days, I do trust God for the things you mentioned in your last comment in response to WC. But I think you're right. It's easier if I can consider universalism seriously.
I'm sure you don't want to read yet another book, but I'm curious to know if you have considered universalism, and if you've read Talbott's book on the subject?
gtg
By all means, SC, "exploit" away. I fully agree with you on the aims the the discussion, and I am glad if my situation can help anyone in any way. Trouble happens, but at least it can be useful trouble.
You had asked, "Does it matter that Christianity be original and shockingly distinctive from other lifestyles or worldviews?" I think that this is where my uncertainty comes in. My concern is that there would be two people, one Christian and one non-Christian, who would in practice act pretty much the same. It seems incongruous to say that one is damned, and the other isn't; not that the actions themselves are necessarily salvific, but that God's grace would seem to be working equally (or equally enough) in two equally merciful and just people. So, I feel compelled to say that either both are damned, or that both aren't. If this is not the case, than God seems arbitrary rather than loving & merciful.
Also, the only options for heaven and hell which I can justify have to do with the being of the person in question. The person "in hell" (whether Hell is a place, state of being, annihilation, etc.) simply could not enjoy eternal life no matter what, while the person "in heaven" (with the appropriate qualifications) would find ultimate enjoyment in communion with God and the saints (based on this model, I'm also currently leaning towards a Purgatorial model, independently of my RC and EO sympathies).
I haven't actually considered universalism per se, though there seem to be several traditional currents of thought which hope for it while condemning the preaching of certain universalism as heresy. I also find Barth interesting in this matter, as he considers it presumptuous to assume either that all will be saved, or that all won't be (though I have no idea how his soteriology escapes universalism; I think that he merely wants to emphasize God's grace in the matter). At any rate, the more I read through Scripture (especially Johannine passages), the more open I am to an inclusivist model. My worries on this issue aren't so much intellectual, as that the emotional spectres of my past just won't go away. Which, in turn, drives me to denounce the current state of the church and to keep myself from inflicting the same scars upon others.
Just a minor factual matter. Speaking of presumptuousness, it is always presumptuous to try to clarify Barth, whose standard reply to any critical question was: "You have not read me sufficiently." Nevertheless, the prevailing opinion is that Barth definitely believed in hell, but that he was pretty sure that no one would be occupying it. He based this view, not on arguments from fairness, which are always precarious when you're talking about the moral obligations of the infinite God, but on the doctrine of predestination, which he read as implying that all are predestined.
Rom. 5:18: Consequently, just as the result of one trespass was condemnation for all men, so also the result of one act of righteousness was justification that brings life for all men.
I'll let you judge the accuracy of the exegesis.
What I'm about to say may not make much sense, but I'm much less troubled by universalism than by inclusivism or pluralism. Universalism bases salvation on God's grace, while inclusivism and pluralism wind up looking at the works of the person.
Thanks for the clarification on Barth!
I'll have to ponder your take on universalism; it does sound better from the standpoint of systematic theology, though I find it easier to read at least the possibility of inclusivism in Scripture. Maybe we could say that Christ's warnings were similar to God's judgments in the OT, in that God's people can intercede?
I have two concerns which make me lean toward inclusivism (or universalism), though, which I see as rooted in the question of who God is. First, is God just? And what would this justice entail? I believe that I've heard you say that for those in heaven, they will to God, "Thy will by done," and to those in hell, that is what God will say to them. At any rate, it seems that there is something about the being of those in heaven and hell, such that they are fitted for their spot (leaving aside the question of how they got that way; it could be entirely through God's grace and to the exclusion of their own works). On this concern, what do I do when I see someone in some other religion who would be more likely to say, "Thy will be done" to God than most Christians (again, this may be entirely God's work)? Is God just for condemning them because they don't know the secret password? What saves Christianity from becoming a new sort of gnosticism?
Which brings me to my next concern: what makes God gracious, rather than capricious? If I am saved, am I simply the winner of a cosmic lottery? Why should I believe that God loves me, or Joy, or the person to whom I'm trying to witness? Even if I am "graciously" elected, there seems to be something almost sinister about this grace (especially if we are all totally, invasively depraved from birth, in which case we're punished for being misprogrammed robots if not elected). Also, I have no problem with saying that people "less worthy" than me (if that were possible) being in heaven, but I would find it rather disturbing if those who were more worthy (of whom there are many) were passed over (even if we are all sinful, not everyone is equally sinful). Dante helps me out through this quandary somewhat, but I'm still uncomfortable. At any rate, it would seem that the advent of Christ would only be the euangelion for some; it would be a dysangelion to those now elected against through lack of opportunity to hear the message, for whom God might have had grace in a prior era. How could John then truthfully say that the Son has not come into the world to condemn the world?
I don't mean these points to be my best arguments against the position (I could probably recite a counter-argument for any one of them), but simply indicators of where I am at. I think that all could be turned into stronger arguments, however, but that would be for a later post.
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