suffering + free will + time

Now I’ve known the existence of suffering, of bad things happening to good people, most all of my life, in the trauma and pain and brokenness of people that were no more aware of the world than I was but somehow so much less fortunate. But – and forgive me for the self-centered nature of this (after all, mine is the clearest/closest perspective I have) – semi-recent events have presented a mystery in a test of that lens. In a temporary abandonment of that clear perspective of suffering what I keep coming back to is why. I guess what I’m trying to say is it’s so difficult to link some bad thing that happened to a person to the bad things that person has done to deserve it. It doesn’t match up to me. And that’s because there is suffering in the world not because we deserve it, but because we’re just far from God. This is not new news for the many of us, I’m sure, but its meaning has taken on a far more personal turn for me now. Bad things that happen are not good things, any way you look at it. It’s true there are good things about something that has happened, it’s true people learn from bad things, but that does not really make it worth it. In fact, appreciating these things makes me more aware of the fact that in a good world it wouldn’t have happened. People wouldn’t have to learn from mistakes or gain some amount of life experience. We can’t pretend like we don’t live in a broken world. We can’t strive for perfection or oneness with God without taking into account the place we’re in and what we are. Suffering isn’t a good thing, ever, whatever way we look at it. It’s also not dismissible. It is as much a part of our lives and our identities – as humans (humanity) as much as individuals – as anything else is. That inevitability is key. We are not human without free will, free will doesn’t come without people screwing up, people screwing up makes the world a bad place, thus that is a key part of our humanity. A key fact of our humanity. And I’m not going to skate over what I just said: “We are not human without free will.” I do believe that. I imagine a humanity created by God without His accompanying blessing (debatable) of free will and it does not seem as whole to me. I think that this move by our omniscient God was a deliberate one – forbidden fruit eaten and all. As much as we (or I) don’t want to accept that, free will was/is necessary. Tragic and necessary. We are human and we are inquisitive. Knowledge-seeking. We are human and we are complex. We are human and we are not God. How could we ever be absolutely close to God if we didn’t choose it? If we didn’t know what He was not? If we weren’t aware of ourselves? Etc etc etc. If we could, we wouldn’t be human. Obviously, we are not close to God, not now. The culmination approaches. It is even now swiftly arriving. There is now for me a large significance and validity in the concept of a common consciousness of humanity. Of course! Reference my thoughts on time: we are all one person. It is all one moment. And as we near the second coming and pass on our genes and enter into the minds of our ancestors we are getting closer, closer; we are gaining and always gaining the pieces we need for the end, the knowledge and wisdom of ourselves of God of the universe, and some of us will move on. And we will be ready, then, to join God.

Does any of this make sense?

pride, running from God

I'm gonna articulate something in this post that feels to me to be universal to Christians, but realistically there's only one other person I know who might go through the same process. Tell me if I'm wrong please.

Every non-surface Christian (I realize I haven't yet explained what I mean by this, but hopefully I'll get the chance to soon -- if it helps, I've heard C.S. Lewis call surface Christians semi-Christians), I suppose, has an individual way of striving for the perfection God asks of us. The way I've done it in the past and the way I'm trying not to do it now is a prideful one. It says, "God, You have a lot to do anyway. I'll go ahead and try on my own. I don't feel comfortable asking for Your help when You've given me so much already." We must let go of the attitude in which we do it ourselves or we don't do it at all. It breaks everyone's heart. We (and by we I mean the people who do this, me included) spend so much time running the race with our shoes tied together, weights on our back, saying, "Watch me, God! I can do it myself, I'll finish, You don't have to help me." And then we fall flat on our faces, tasting dirt, anguish, despairing in our failure, and it is God who picks us up again, it is Him that embraces us in His loving arms and gets us back on our feet and tells us it's okay that we can't do it on our own, that we weren't made that way. And we thank Him, we are so grateful. He nurses us back to health and as He does confidence in ourselves rekindles and plants its seed. "I feel so much better," we tell ourselves. "I'll never make that mistake that tripped me up again. " And then, once again, we take off and leave God behind. What a childish, naive pride. Such a desire to please God and such an inability to do it, such an inability to realize we can't do it without Him. And then, inevitably, our humanity hits us square in the face. We can't do it. It is impossible. We are fallen and sinful and it is only the grace of God that allows us to do any pure good. And yet, we still do not accept God's help. There is no falling out, because how can there be in the face of this truth? We are tragically stubborn. We say, "Well, God, I'll do the best I can. I'm sorry it's so horrible."

Profoundly relevant songs:
When I Go Down, Relient K
Find Me Tonight, Everyday Sunday

I don't have much of substance left, but I can leave you with some food for thought. Those of you who know me most likely have heard me talk of C.S. Lewis (and actually I've talked of him here), and that is because I think he is absolutely amazing. This is an excerpt from a letter by C.S.L. found in a book called A Severe Mercy by Sheldon Vanauken:
My feeling about people in whose conversion I have been allowed to play a part is always mixed with awe and even fear: such as a boy might feel on first being allowed to fire a rifle. The disproportion between his puny finger on the trigger and the thunder & lightning wh. follow is alarming. And the seriousness with which the other party takes my words always raises the doubt whether I have taken them seriously enough myself. By writing the things I write, you see, one especially qualifies for being hereafter 'condemned out of one's own mouth'. Think of me as a fellow-patient in the same hospital who, having been admitted a little earlier, cd. give some advice.
Earlier, Vanauken speaks of Lewis (who was a close friend and mentor to him), saying:
...and I therefore saw and heard, both at table and at the semicircle by the fire in the common room as the port went round, the Lewis who, in brilliance, in wit, and in incisiveness, could hold his own with any man that ever lived.

C.S. Lewis played (and, myself as proof, plays) such a great (and personal) role in so many people's lives, but his very influence would have been rendered entirely useless and even very detrimental if he hadn't been able to (and, realistically, God hadn't given him the ability to) discover humility and realize his actually nonexistent role compared to that of God.


Current music:
Globes and Maps, Something Corporate
When I Go Down, Relient K
Find Me Tonight, Everyday Sunday
Take Me Out, Everyday Sunday
Apathy for Apologies, Everyday Sunday

Currently reading:
A Severe Mercy, Sheldon Vanauken