Sometimes I will sit and wonder at the palace I have created. Not the workmanship or innate beauty of its architecture or engineering skill, but moreover the fact that it has stood standing as long as it has. I am by nature a deconstructionist where metaphysics and ontology collide. Words written about God have 2 dimensions and try to describe God in 3 dimensions. Theos Logos (theology) or Words of/on God are only truly effective if they embrace God in all 11 dimensions (I apologize to string theorists for co-opting the concept) and for me to truly know him to the fullest extent I can I need to break down those dimensional structures to understand how they hold together so I can get the clearest image of God possible for my 3 pound fallen brain. Sometimes that works very well and sometimes that creates a house of cards afraid of the slightest breeze.
Most of the time after careful work removing structural parts and replacing them with other pieces I am left with questions. What does it mean to be a man of God, a pastor, a man after Gods own heart? The Westminster Catechism says the chief end of man is to glorify God and enjoy him forever. Does that even have meaning today? In 1647 it was intended to bring people together around a central belief while adding value to their lives. I am not sure it really worked then, at least not to the extent they wanted, but does that have any real meaning today? If the chief purpose of my life is to be a venue or example of God’s handiwork and thereby glorify him, then what is my part in it?
What am I doing and how can I tell if I am doing it well? I experience life at what seems like a hundred miles an hour and yet the things I remember most or at least most often are the moments of pain and regret for things I have lost along the way. Vivid recollections of soul wrenching agony over the loss of a loved one or horrendous acts I can neither take back or otherwise remove from my memories. Some days I am lost in a maelstrom of tasks to complete and the desire to shut down. I fight the urge to remember the good I have done to compete with the darkness for the simple reason that if it was truly good, it can not be used as a bargaining chip to assuage guilt or shame or loss.
But wait a minute, what about grace? The central idea of Christianity that binds all things together with the power of the love of God and yet I seem to let the idea slip my mind when I am thinking about myself. Don’t get me wrong, part of the job, part of the essence of being a voice for the Creator is that I will fight (metaphorically) vehemently for others to see that and never believe the voices in their heads that say they can’t. I will travel long distances and struggles to help people see that God’s grace is real and life changing. It is not something that exists because we believe, we believe because it exists. Yet somehow in the midst of the struggle, I seem to forget that the message so crucial to the lives of others is for me as well. The simpleness of the problem is almost laughable, yet somehow still seems to haunt me.
Is it a lack of faith? Is it pride? Is it just a lack of knowledge? Simply put, maybe, could be, and I doubt it would be that easy. Faith is a construct of hope and trust held together by real world applicable experience. I have plenty of that for this purpose. Pride is a trait easy to put down when you compare yourself to the Divine but somehow it follows you like a stalking cat waiting to pounce when you least expect it only nowhere near as playful and cute. The trick is to do that comparison daily to keep it in check. Knowledge is just the applicable connection of facts to be remembered, or is it? To truly know God, we need to experience God. Not just the earth shattering sea parting salvation from our worst nightmare but the connection to our daily sustenance and air itself. True knowledge is that God is in and with us each moment, even when we are lost in the malaise.
So the increased faith through the rejection of pride and experiencing God daily for all that he does seems to be the candlelight in the darkness that lets us navigate our way home. Could it be that easy? Well, I am not sure easy is the right word for it, but it is that real, that sure, and that comforting. I think I will give that a try.
the christian philosopher 