Someone once told me that God and Creation were, by nature, intelligible, and I fought them tooth and nail. How boastful, to think that something as great as God and His Creation might be comprehended by fallen, sinful humans like ourselves! But now I believe that God can, in fact, be understood. I don't believe that He is understood (that I do or that anyone does, completely). I think that it is prideful to think that we are that close to Him, or that in control of the Creation that, already, has been proved (through our own research) to be increasingly complex. But I must believe that He wants to be understood (because in understanding Him we are closer to Him). He wants to be understood, and so He makes it possible. (This topic was brushed previously.) That's not to say it's easy. It takes effort and intent and perseverance. But God grants enlightenment. He reveals Himself to those who seek Him.
Deuteronomy 4:19: But if from thence thou shalt seek the Lord thy God, thou shalt find him, if thou seek him with all thy heart and with all they soul. (KJV)
Music for today:
Going to a Town, by Rufus Wainwright
Tonight, by FM Static
Beautiful Disaster, by Jon McLaughlin
Trust Me, by The Fray
Heretics, by Andrew Bird
Monday, July 30, 2007
Sunday, July 29, 2007
Kick-off: simplicity and complicity, election, writing
So this is the beginning of a blog. We'll see how long it lasts. It's at least going to start with a bang because, today, I have a lot to say.
Keep in mind that not all of this is going to apply to you. I'm a Christian and so a great portion of the things I'm going to want to talk (write) about here relate to that. Feel free to read it and comment on it, but don't be offended or surprised.
I just read The Poisonwood Bible by Barbara Kingsolver (and would definitely recommend it) and have started thinking about the way our two cultures (that is, the one of the Congo and America's) clash. It's a war of complicity vs. simplicity and, at first, the simplicity seemed inherently better to me. It seems that 'progress' only means growing further and further away from simplicity. I was claiming baggage at the airport today and realized, astonished, that there was nothing stopping me from taking someone else's stuff, or from someone else taking mine. How had this been overlooked? Where is the system of correct-baggage-reaching-correct-owner? A loose end. A loophole. A gamble. In this world (the 'civilized' one), we don't trust anyone. We create increasingly complex systems to safeguard some ideal or principle or process and never leave anything to unravel on its own. Somebody has always already thought of it, and if they haven't, then you better hurry up and tell someone so something can be done because sitting on it could mean the wrong sort of person will think of it next! In the world of the Congo, and others (as depicted by The Poisonwood Bible and also, by Chinua Achebe, Things Fall Apart), there are loose systems kept to voice opinions and to initiate action, but as for keeping everyone in line or being sure law-breakers can't break the laws in the first place or ensuring the underdog can be heard, there is nothing. It is trusted that the people -- according to what? love? ethics? tradition? -- will account for everyone, and will do things fairly and in the mind of the public because that is what's to be done. If someone is doing something badly, that someone is thrown out. (And we thought to teach them democracy.) It really is that simple. There is no such thing as majority rules. If majority rules, then the minority is unhappy. So they debate until they agree. These people don't want to bother with national elections or parties or capitalism. Why should they? Why meddle in such a corrupt system when the one closer to home can be kept pure? Because that is truly what it is: a system without corruption.
I am increasingly led to the belief that the best person to have power is the person who doesn't ask for it. (Doesn't want it? Doesn't look for it?) I don't see that virtue in any of the election candidates, or people currently in power. And so my conclusion: they are all bad. None of them is doing or will do a particularly good job in office. I can't trust any of their intentions, ever. And so I'll pick the one that will defend my ideals, whatever his (her) reasons for doing that.
Writing sometimes seems to take a life of its own. So treasured at conception, leaving the author's hand feverishly, from an often unsettled mind to seep into a page. But when it reaches the readers' eyes, it is as if it has changed the writer him(her)self: it comes across so matter-of-factly, so innocently, so benignly and as if it doesn't have its own purpose or took no effort. But then the reader soaks it in and it is intent once again -- wreaking its havoc or conquering its domain or providing enlightenment (mostly, I like to believe, the latter). Sometimes subtly but always surely.
Or maybe not. Maybe it is only an aide.
In a nutshell: I'm finding that the most monumental realizations, and the most difficult to come by, are uncluttered and simple. Ignorance may be bliss, but enlightenment is glorious.
Out of a nutshell: It is easy to think that God is complex. In His own way, He is, and quite so. What I mean to say is that the truths of God, and understanding them and Him, are in and of themselves not complex. (God Himself is above our semantically-bound ideas of simple and complicated, I like to think.) It might take a lot of thinking -- and very difficult and advanced thinking, at that -- to reach our understandings of God, well beyond what any Sunday school teacher asks of us, but once we reach these understandings, they are quite simple, quite apparent and uncluttered. They are remarkable, impactive realizations. They are life-changing, really. But once we've cleared away all of the clutter of human thinking -- sinful distractions, cultural biases, personal limits, implications, et cetera -- the knowledge itself comes easily and stays with us, unless we allow everything else to bury it again.
In a nutshell: There's more to being a Christian than following all the rules. God asks 100% from us, intellectually.
Out of the nutshell: Maybe another time.
We can be equally trapped in complicity or simplicity. Which is good? Which do we choose? Are we happier where we are born?
God's truths, when found, are quite simple. Do I think this means that simple is good and complicated is evil? No. Simple and complicated are polar in the same way that wet and dry are: wet is certainly sinful when it is a murdered drowning victim's last sensation, but quite the very opposite when it is a sweet lover's kiss, a manioc field in drought, a prisoner-of-war's first taste of freedom. I think that these truths are simple frankly because God wants us to understand Him. He truly reaches 99.9% of the way; all He asks is that we put everything into that last little stretch.
Music of today:
Find Me Tonight, by Everyday Sunday
When I Go Down, by Relient K
Deathbed, by Relient K
Hallelujah, by Rufus Wainwright
Swing Life Away, by Rise Against
Fred Jones, Part 2, by Ben Folds Five
Currently reading:
Catch-22, Joseph Heller
Keep in mind that not all of this is going to apply to you. I'm a Christian and so a great portion of the things I'm going to want to talk (write) about here relate to that. Feel free to read it and comment on it, but don't be offended or surprised.
I just read The Poisonwood Bible by Barbara Kingsolver (and would definitely recommend it) and have started thinking about the way our two cultures (that is, the one of the Congo and America's) clash. It's a war of complicity vs. simplicity and, at first, the simplicity seemed inherently better to me. It seems that 'progress' only means growing further and further away from simplicity. I was claiming baggage at the airport today and realized, astonished, that there was nothing stopping me from taking someone else's stuff, or from someone else taking mine. How had this been overlooked? Where is the system of correct-baggage-reaching-correct-owner? A loose end. A loophole. A gamble. In this world (the 'civilized' one), we don't trust anyone. We create increasingly complex systems to safeguard some ideal or principle or process and never leave anything to unravel on its own. Somebody has always already thought of it, and if they haven't, then you better hurry up and tell someone so something can be done because sitting on it could mean the wrong sort of person will think of it next! In the world of the Congo, and others (as depicted by The Poisonwood Bible and also, by Chinua Achebe, Things Fall Apart), there are loose systems kept to voice opinions and to initiate action, but as for keeping everyone in line or being sure law-breakers can't break the laws in the first place or ensuring the underdog can be heard, there is nothing. It is trusted that the people -- according to what? love? ethics? tradition? -- will account for everyone, and will do things fairly and in the mind of the public because that is what's to be done. If someone is doing something badly, that someone is thrown out. (And we thought to teach them democracy.) It really is that simple. There is no such thing as majority rules. If majority rules, then the minority is unhappy. So they debate until they agree. These people don't want to bother with national elections or parties or capitalism. Why should they? Why meddle in such a corrupt system when the one closer to home can be kept pure? Because that is truly what it is: a system without corruption.
I am increasingly led to the belief that the best person to have power is the person who doesn't ask for it. (Doesn't want it? Doesn't look for it?) I don't see that virtue in any of the election candidates, or people currently in power. And so my conclusion: they are all bad. None of them is doing or will do a particularly good job in office. I can't trust any of their intentions, ever. And so I'll pick the one that will defend my ideals, whatever his (her) reasons for doing that.
Writing sometimes seems to take a life of its own. So treasured at conception, leaving the author's hand feverishly, from an often unsettled mind to seep into a page. But when it reaches the readers' eyes, it is as if it has changed the writer him(her)self: it comes across so matter-of-factly, so innocently, so benignly and as if it doesn't have its own purpose or took no effort. But then the reader soaks it in and it is intent once again -- wreaking its havoc or conquering its domain or providing enlightenment (mostly, I like to believe, the latter). Sometimes subtly but always surely.
Or maybe not. Maybe it is only an aide.
In a nutshell: I'm finding that the most monumental realizations, and the most difficult to come by, are uncluttered and simple. Ignorance may be bliss, but enlightenment is glorious.
Out of a nutshell: It is easy to think that God is complex. In His own way, He is, and quite so. What I mean to say is that the truths of God, and understanding them and Him, are in and of themselves not complex. (God Himself is above our semantically-bound ideas of simple and complicated, I like to think.) It might take a lot of thinking -- and very difficult and advanced thinking, at that -- to reach our understandings of God, well beyond what any Sunday school teacher asks of us, but once we reach these understandings, they are quite simple, quite apparent and uncluttered. They are remarkable, impactive realizations. They are life-changing, really. But once we've cleared away all of the clutter of human thinking -- sinful distractions, cultural biases, personal limits, implications, et cetera -- the knowledge itself comes easily and stays with us, unless we allow everything else to bury it again.
In a nutshell: There's more to being a Christian than following all the rules. God asks 100% from us, intellectually.
Out of the nutshell: Maybe another time.
We can be equally trapped in complicity or simplicity. Which is good? Which do we choose? Are we happier where we are born?
God's truths, when found, are quite simple. Do I think this means that simple is good and complicated is evil? No. Simple and complicated are polar in the same way that wet and dry are: wet is certainly sinful when it is a murdered drowning victim's last sensation, but quite the very opposite when it is a sweet lover's kiss, a manioc field in drought, a prisoner-of-war's first taste of freedom. I think that these truths are simple frankly because God wants us to understand Him. He truly reaches 99.9% of the way; all He asks is that we put everything into that last little stretch.
Music of today:
Find Me Tonight, by Everyday Sunday
When I Go Down, by Relient K
Deathbed, by Relient K
Hallelujah, by Rufus Wainwright
Swing Life Away, by Rise Against
Fred Jones, Part 2, by Ben Folds Five
Currently reading:
Catch-22, Joseph Heller
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)