Faith: an inside view

A few reflections from recent discussions. It's struck me how crucial are humility and an effort to establish common ground for fruitful discussion. We all alike as human beings experience to a large degree the same physical, emotional and psychological realities in our path through life, and within this debate we share similar reasoning skills. We would all admit limitations to our knowledge and awareness: in short, none of us knows everything. Key question you might ask then: what keeps me resolutely pursuing a path of faith? So a spot of testimony. I'd approach the question from several angles. For starters, life gives me both a desire for and sense of meaning (M), not meaninglessness; and also a sense that personhood(P) and relationship(R) are foundational, critical dimensions of life. From the thinking and reading I've done, I've seen nothing that seriously philosophically undermines the idea that the M, P and R here are fundamental to reality (the Francis Schaeffer Trilogy of books is good on this, influential in the formation of my faith worldview). A heart-level sense of this, combined with intuition of eternity, moves me to seek personal relationship in ultimate reality, like a child's impetus to put hand into father's and trust. And I find a profound response: revelation in the bible that ultimate reality is personal and reaches to embrace humanity. So faith is kindled and the journey of faith embarked on. Not blind, not just a subjective notion like that fairies live at the bottom of the garden, because underpinned by testimony, history and a body of truth, handled in community, passed down the ages, with strong grounds to be considered divinely revelatory (in support of which plenty of good reading material can be highlighted and explored). And sustained by a sense that by stepping out on this journey, I'm allowing myself to be fully alive, not just in mind and body but in spirit. Like sap coursing through a tree nourishing life and growth, or being in a dance or romance. God is not a chemical or physical property that you can analyse with cold neutrality in a test tube. In that sense he is not testable. But when given the chance to be God, when the risk of faith is taken at the end of a path of honest truth-seeking at whatever intellectual level is required, then yes, in relationship I believe God and his goodness most certainly are 'testable' - can be found in experience to be real. Matt 7:8 ask, seek, knock, 'he who seeks finds', and Psalm 34:8 'Taste and see that the Lord is good', or Jesus' invitation to Thomas to touch his wounds as illustration of a personal response to doubt (but not a closed heart), John 20:24-29.
Finally, a word about what I see as barriers, real or potential, to having a condition of heart that could be open to God. I think intellectual debate, while it has its place, can be one: the mentality of excited 'win/lose' competition and camaderie it can generate is potentially inimical to the calmness, humility and receptivity of heart needed properly to consider God. And remember the fable of the man whose tightly wrapped coat the wind and sun competed to remove, and which of the two in the end succeeded. An insight which seems relevant here.
It's a viewpoint, anyway. Happy Christmas.

A physicist on values

I'm finally posting, with permission, some thoughts on values written by a member of St Silas Church who teaches in the Physics Dept of Glasgow University. Should be of interest. Values - an analysis of the possibilities

The Golden Compass: taking a bearing

Despite mediocre reviews, the invitation of friends and prospect of a wintry CGI spectacle lured me to go see The Golden Compass last night. Certainly watchable, though my impetus to read the books has been slightly dampened by a family member's first impressions of 'Northern Lights': 'kidult' lit. The Lord of the Rings books and films won't I guess be easily matched. Clear parallels in Compass with both the Rings trilogy and CS Lewis' Narnia chronicles: quest, power, good v evil, talking animals,... which reminds me of atheist author Philip Pullman's castigation of Lewis's creation in a review two years ago as 'racist' - White Witch?, 'misogynistic', and if I recall, moralising. (heard my first whiff of news today that the Narnia franchise is alive and kicking; a family acquaintance is in Prague working on props for sequel 'Prince Caspian'). Though I'm no expert, Pullman's anti-religion, anti-Church stance seems only thinly disguised behind the clerical robes of the 'Magisterium' henchmen and nun-like aspect of the captured children's sinister guardians in the north (I'll do my homework later). Against this dark backdrop - suffocating grip of authoritarianism, being told what to think and do - is pitted the wild spirit of 'free thinking' embodied in Lyra and her uncle, Lord Asriel. What intrigues me here is the transfer - less charitably I might say hijacking - of universally recognised values, both good and evil. In Narnia it's Aslan - Christ figure - who's both wild and good ('not a tame lion'), and the White Witch, symbolic of Satan, who proffers Turkish Delight but specialises in turning things to stone; in Compass it's the Magisterium and its cohorts who get the boos and hisses - they've even got the slavering wolves. A fuller dissection of this Pullmanesque-Enlightenment view would need to wait. Meanwhile, Compass is still worth seeing, if nothing else for the giant wrestling polar bears and daemons expiring in clouds of gold dust .

In the shadow of the moon

A few weeks ago I wound up with a friend at the GFT (Glasgow Film Theatre) to see 'In the shadow of the moon', a British-made documentary about the Apollo space missions, featuring interviews with surviving members (notable exception, the apparently very reclusive Neil Armstrong). The film captured the awesomeness and sheer riskiness of the whole space travel experience. I was struck by the levels of technology, human ingenuity and teamwork required to orchestrate and mobilise such an enterprise. Like the brilliance and risk of plane flight ramped up several orders of magnitude. Even with all those ruthlessly pain-staking safety measures, there was no negating the sheer vulnerability of those men strapped into a capsule on top of what was basically an enormous firework, its' balance as fine as a pencil as it was hurled upwards from the launchpad (they could feel the shimmying as it righted itself). In short, you might say: madness. Mike Collins, the Apollo 11 command module operator, described the sequence of what had to happen and be done during the trip as like a 'daisy chain' of risk; if any one link in that chain had been broken, it could have spelt disaster. Alongside dream-like footage of astronauts' weightless gambolling in the lunar desert, were some profound reflections from the interviewees on the effect the experience had had on them. A sense of the earths' beauty and fragility granted by seeing it suspended in space; of the smallness of earths' problems and preoccupations when its' orb could be hidden behind your thumb; and of transcendence - the overwhelming feeling from this vantage point of an embracing, over-arching power and purpose. When one of them mentioned having joined a bible study post-mission and becoming a Christian, there was an audible tutting from at least one person in the audience; which I felt reflected a broader public view: vague sense of transcendence and higher power, ok; specific religious commitment - or at least talking about it, not ok. But to conclude: peach of a film.

Sermon in a symphony?

I want to address a common theme of atheistic thinking about God as shown in recent comments, that only measurable experimental evidence would persuade of His existence. It's my conviction that such a demand is a feature of a western scientific materialist mindset, and that as an approach to the question of God it is fundamentally flawed. Coming from an arts not science background, I find image, metaphor and analogy helpful ways to think, opening up fresh perspectives. Picking up on the tail end of comments from the 'All channels engaged?' post below, I'm pondering the metaphor of a symphony or other great work of art. Listening to great music, one is intuitively aware of intelligent, inspired creative activity underlying the experience, and the work itself. It's a big picture kind of response, a response of the whole person. But it's not the only way of contemplating music; changing the focus, you could study in detail the quantity, range and patterns of notes, and their effect at various levels: on the ear drum, on the brain, on the emotions. In other words, the musical experience can be broken down, reduced and explained in many ways. But most reasonable folk would accept that no amount of such analysis alters the experienced reality of a great work of art, stimulating the senses, stirring the emotions - and plainly the product of genius. And note, that power and mystique is not something 'extra' to the analysable musical notes and effects; it's right there in it. It's a case of different ways of appreciating the phenomena. I see a parallel with nature and God. The biblical perspective is clear, that nature manifests the presence and glory of God, Romans 1:19,20. In the western scientific community in particular, this perspective has in large part been lost. And it strikes me that looking for 'the difference God makes' as an additional factor in the processes, through measurable controlled experiment, is like a musical analyst searching for 'evidence of genius' by analysing the notes of a symphony. It doesn't work like that. You need to widen the camera angle and open up the avenues of appreciation. Problem is, prevailing scientific ideology can make that difficult to do. Which takes us to the heart of the problem: the problem of the heart. Jesus said spiritual 'new birth' is needed to enable us to see spiritual realities - like a chrysalis opening its wings to absorb and enjoy the light and warmth of the sun. A beautiful process - for which faith is a vital ingredient.

St Silas men's weekend: way to go

Taking a break from discussion with atheist friends, a little reflection on a recent event of note: the St Silas Church men's weekend away, 23-25 November. Seventeen of us descended on a hostel in the picturesque village of Comrie in Perthshire. Now I've been to all four of these weekends since the indomitable Will initiated them in 2004. With Will and family's departure 3 months ago to France for a posting in his career as a particle physicist (a job title I reckon's always worth mentioning), the jovial Greg DM coordinated the occasion. Numbers were a bit down on previous years, but this helped create an unthreatening, family kind of atmosphere. Quite a contrast with the more macho, competitive, image-conscious feel - perhaps tinged with slight mutual suspicion - that can sometimes pervade get-togethers of men who don't know each other well. It was recognised that the very concept of a 'men's weekend' is dubious in the eyes of a lot of guys, and raises questions in the minds of our womenfolk too (eg. 'What do you actually do?'). It's a given - and a generalisation - that blokes are often more comfortable in a situation where they're actually doing something together, be it watching football or building a hut. So what did we do? Well, we took our pick of playing pool, ping pong and cards (of which at least one game was rather chaotic and not a little fraught). On the Saturday afternoon a bunch of us tramped with Scott-like fortitude round a reservoir - ask Michael which one - in deteriorating conditions (driving wind and rain) and with unfortunately patchy levels of waterproofing; and counted ourselves pretty lucky to get back to Comrie with no suspected cases of pneumonia. Ian Hopkins, a minister from Edinburgh, led thought-provoking studies from 1 Thessalonians. We sparked some ideas about how men in the church can better fellowship and engage in useful ministry. And perhaps most importantly, we had the chance to spend enough time together - as one of the group memorably put it - 'to get past the grunting'. A good start.

Meditation on the beautiful game

In an effort to be a bit topical, I'm thinking today about that lightning rod of national and international fervour: football. From a Scottish point of view I am of course four days late - the Scotland Italy game has already slipped into the annals of Scottish history; sadly not in the file marked 'Bannockburn'. Now I didn't actually see the game as I was visiting a friend, and didn't even find out the score till next morning. It's true, I'm not the world's biggest football fan (another shocking statistic, never actually been to a stadium game), though have occasionally graced the sidelines of a St Silas team match and do think it's the best sport to watch on telly. Still, mingling briefly with the mayhem in Glasgow city centre on Saturday afternoon a couple of hours before kick-off, I was struck afresh by the talismanic power of the game on the Scottish psyche - a phenomenon replicated of course from Blackburn to Brazil. The supreme sense of 'event', the euphoric feeling of unity with one's countrymen, the gladiatorial spectacle of the game - who could , who would want to, bottle the power of this genie? It's a potent demonstration of the human attraction to a unifying cause - something to really get excited about. And then I think about the national indifference, if not to God, then at least to the Church with a capital C; what's easily labelled 'organised religion'. But also that in parts of the world where the church's centre of gravity has shifted - Asia, Africa, Latin America - the church and the Christ worshipped there are loci of comparable public devotion. And I ponder: what might it take for God to ignite such a flame of passion here in Scotland, in Britain? For God to become as popular as football?

All channels engaged?

I and one or two other Christians have been engaged in blog discussion with a few atheists of late - see also Jonathan's 'Musings...' blog linked on the right - and it prompts me to reflect on the deeper dynamics and issues in considering human response to the universal question of God. One of our atheist friends has a pretty hefty arsenal of biological and bible data which he readily deploys in constructing his arguments. The amount of 'knowledge' on display can look impressive. How much of it is accurate, comprehensive and reasonably deployed is sometimes debatable, but that is not to dismiss it; I recognise it needs to be engaged with. What I'm mulling just now though is what limits the impact of this kind of 'information' in undermining faith - in a person of faith. And my basic response would be that there is a dimension, the spirit, through which a human being, if willing - a point I recognise as controversial for the atheist - is enabled to appreciate something of the reality and presence of God in a way that the intellectual information/misinformation doesn't threaten. I'm not at all dismissing the place and role of the intellectual stuff; but I'm trying partly here to convey to atheists a sense of its limitations to a person of faith. I believe this realm of spirit is fundamental to our make-up as human beings - part of the fullness of my humanity. At the root of the power of the bible's communication - like much literature, art and music - is its frequent appeal to this side of me, appealing to emotion and intuition (though not at the expense of mind) - often through potent imagery eg Psalm 23 'The Lord is my shepherd...' A criticism sometimes levelled at the religious is 'you're blinkered, trapped in dogma, open your mind!'; one of my questions to atheists is, are you truly open to the variety of 'channels of our humanity' through which truth, and perhaps even God, might communicate to you?

An inside job

As someone interested in the communication business, I often think about the problem of how, if at its heart Christianity contains timeless, universal truth, it can be communicated to a world that's lost interest - largely, in the west at least - in a way that re-engages the imagination, makes people sit up and take notice. I think one of the keys for a Christian communicator is to take the time and effort to immerse his/her spirit and imagination in the truths and stories of the faith. I find that the more I imaginatively get 'inside' and 'under the skin' of the resources of the faith eg perhaps simply a single verse or passage from the bible, the more creative and original my communication... Take the Christmas story for example. The basic narratives in the gospels are so (relatively) simple and familiar, that they can easily lose their power to enthrall. But get inside the story eg get inside Herod's head in his position as king of the Jews and puppet ruler of Rome, and imagine how the news from the magi of a 'new king' would have threatened him, and you can begin to create powerful drama. This is of course what creative artisits do, from Shakespeare transforming an obscure Italian novella into Romeo and Juliet, to Rice and Lloyd-Webber creating Joseph. Nice.

Why does the devil have all the good music?

Picking up from the end of that last post, and that paean to a Madonna song... want to explore my broader point about music - and indeed other creative endeavours - a little more. My broad observation is that creative material produced by Christians can often appear bland and lacking in emotional punch, innovation or experimentation, in comparison with secular material (take that 'Hives' youtube video on Gadgetvicar's blog as an example of innovation). And I'm interested in why that is. My disclaimer at the outset is that of course I'm generalising here, and recognise there is some great material on the Christian side and some lousy stuff on the secular side, and also that taste is to a degree subjective... That said, here's my current take on it: for starters, I guess a lot of religious/worship music is produced in a 'Christian music' type context , where the composers and musicians are influenced by what is current and what has gone before in what may be a relatively closed community. And in a lot of Christian music, this means, for example, extensive use of a particular keyboard setting - you know, the one that just sounds so 'Christian'! It strikes me the secular music industry, being generally I think more open and competitive, is an environment often more likely to foster pioneering creativity in the actual art of making music. There's another issue that I wonder about. Take a song like Madonna's 'Live to tell'; or 'Somewhere only we know' by Keane to pick just two on my mind; I guess a big reason for the emotional power of the music is that the song expresses a deep but accessible dimension of human experience - human relationships, love, betrayal - the kind that inspires artists' passion. I think with secular artists this passion to express deep feeling, ask deep questions - the whole quest aspect - is what drives such powerful music.
Worship music is of course doing a different thing, and comes in many varieties, eg meditative, proclamatory, exuberant... and then there's other kinds of Christian music... I guess one of my key questions is, in view of the fact that some of the big questions and emotions that secular artists tackle find peace-giving 'responses' in the Christian faith... how can artists (in broad sense) with faith go about accessing passion and allowing it to generate powerful and creative music/art? The Christian conviction is surely that the journey of faith opens up even deeper, greater passions. What then might be holding back Christian artists from producing even more powerful music, writing, art, than their secular counterparts?
Answers on a postcard please(!) Some overlapping issues here, and got a feeling I'm just scratching the surface...