the reasons I believe: transforming love

Reason #1: Looking at the world and being disappointed.
Reason #2: Creation.
Reason #3: The cross.

Reason #4: The transforming love of God.

I listened to a sermon at my church a few weeks ago and was struck by one sentence which I jotted down immediately.

The Christian has experienced God's love and has been transformed by it.

This feels like an appropriate reason to follow Reason #3, the cross of Christ, an event and a symbol of God's great, self-sacrificial love for us. As Romans 5:7-8 says, "Very rarely will anyone die for a righteous man, though for a good man someone might possibly dare to die. But God demonstrates his own love for us in this: While we were still sinners, Christ died for us."

But it doesn't stop with the cross as an event. The power of the cross is the power of a love so great that it is tangible to me, a 23-year-old in 2010, and it has been tangible to me throughout my life. The love of a God I can turn to again and again, a God who forgives me again and again, who continues to bless me despite all my failings; a God who saw me running away, fought for me, and ran to greet me with open arms as I stumbled back towards him; a God whose love has been so immediately present, so real, so comforting, in all the most horrible moments of my life.

It's not something I can quantify because it is so all-encompassing and it's so personal. I cannot prove to you the depth of God's love. A frail example would be like trying to prove that my mother loved me - unmeasurable by the fact that she fed me, clothed me, looked after me when I was sick, although that is all part of it.

However, it is something that I have seen in other people's lives, and the proof is in the transformation. I've seen proud, strong, angry people brought to their knees by God's love; men who used to drink and fight and hit their wives, lives transformed, stand before a congregation every week and declare "God is so good"; people whose actions led them to be rejected by society come in humility and shame before a God who forgave them. I've seen this in people I know, and I've seen it in me, and there is no explanation for it that does not take into account a force outside of these people, a God who loves them.

guidance

A break in the faith series for a prayer request: I need guidance.

I've come back to the same spot I was five years ago, and moved on from. Considering a career working for Wycliffe Bible Translators, which is an organisation I've always been very interested in.

When I was in my first year of university, I was taking Linguistics, and considered making it my major, so that I could train as a linguist and work for Wycliffe. In the end, I decided not to, or just drifted away from that idea - and now, I'm wondering if I was wrong. Wycliffe has appeared again on the horizon, and this time, I want to do what God wants me to do, if I got it wrong last time.

I suspect that it won't be possible for me to work for them for a couple of years. Wycliffe is a "faith mission", which means it doesn't pay wages, but it helps its workers get support from various churches and individuals. I have a student loan which is not huge but not tiny either, and I think I should probably pay that off before I do anything that requires church support.

Which means I need to think also about what I should spend my time on during the next couple of years, if I spend them with the aim of eventually working for Wycliffe. Besides paying off my loan, do I also train for certain jobs that are particularly useful for Wycliffe. Do I train further in linguistics? Teaching? Translation? Biblical training?

So - I need prayer, that God would guide me onto the path he wants for me, and (probably more crucially) that I would listen.

the reasons I believe: the cross

Reason #1: Looking at the world and being disappointed.
Reason #2: Creation.

Reason #3: The cross.

I could never myself believe in God, if it were not for the cross… In the real world of pain, how could one worship a God who was immune to it? I have entered many Buddhist temples in different Asian countries and stood respectfully before the statue of Buddha, his legs crossed, arms folded, eyes closed, the ghost of a smile playing round his mouth, a remote look on his face, detached from the agonies of the world. But each time after a while I have to turn away. And in imagination I have turned instead to that lonely, twisted, tortured figure on the cross, nails through hands and feet, back lacerated, limbs wrenched, brow bleeding from thorn-pricks, mouth dry and intolerably thirsty, plunged in God-forsaken darkness. That is the God for me! He laid aside his immunity to pain. He entered our world of flesh and blood, tears and death. He suffered for us. Our sufferings become more manageable in the light of his. There is still a question mark against human suffering, but over it we boldly stamp another mark, the cross which symbolises divine suffering. ‘The cross of Christ … is God’s only self-justification in such a world’ as ours.

I almost don't want to write any more, after this quote (from John Stott's The Cross of Christ). It is, for me, one of the most meaningful and wonderful things ever written that isn't included in the Bible. Because it captures what for me is IT, the essential kernel of Christianity that has me hooked.

I am so often confused, so often bewildered, by life; so often unsure of my own ability to understand; so often horrified by what is happening in the world and what has happened in the world. I don't know why I believe. I doubt. I object. I am overcome by fear of the largeness of it all and by the sting of death. I worry that God cannot possibly love so disappointing a creature as I and that my sin is too large for it to be forgiven.

And then I look to the cross. It answers all my questions.

The God who could crush me like a beetle loved me and "humbled himself and became obedient to death - even death on a cross!" That is no frail love. It is more powerful than my sin and is enough to save me.

When I have moments of terror - I don't want to die! - I am suddenly hit with the memory that Jesus was terrified too. He went through everything I go through and more. He did not want to die, yet he did it, for me, and I cannot ignore such love.

Love so amazing, so divine - demands my soul, my life, my all.

the reasons I believe: creation

Reason #1: Looking at the world and being disappointed.

Reason #2: Creation.

In a sense the debate about evolution vs. creation is, for me, supremely irrelevant, and completely fails to address the substantial problem of existence: origins. (Add to that that I'm just not all that interested in science.) Regardless of the age of the earth, of the adaptation and evolution of human kind, of my personal interpretation of the book of Genesis, evolution cannot explain the philosophical problem of the spark of existence.

How is it that something is here at all? Our knowledge of the "Big Bang" alone makes it very clear that something hasn't always been here, and I don't think belief in a designer is all that far-fetched when you consider the other options.

And then there is the astonishing, amazing unlikelihood of the universe. To provide you with a cliche, standing at the top of a mountain and surveying everything around me is something that, for me, minimises the possibility of chance by rather a lot. Seeing something of the order that governs even the smallest organisms. Watching a child grow. Wondering how such beauty could simply evolve of its own volition. Viewing by chance the raw power of nature and our own defencelessness. It's strange, given that my other reason to believe so far is a rejection of the reality of the (social) world as it is. The (natural) world, as it is, is so wonderful that I do not think it is possible without a Creator.

All this makes the following Bible verses really resonate with me:

For you created my inmost being;
you knit me together in my mother's womb.
I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made;
your works are wonderful,
I know that full well. Psalm 139: 13-14

For since the creation of the world God's invisible qualities—his eternal power and divine nature—have been clearly seen, being understood from what has been made, so that men are without excuse. Romans 1:20

For these reasons, if I ever tried to be an atheist I would be a very bad one. I cannot get out of my head the sense that there is something too amazing here to be a fluke.

------

So far, I am aware that my reasons to believe lead only to belief in a God, identity unknown. The reasons I specifically chose to follow Christ will come soon.

the reasons I believe: looking at the world and being disappointed

No. 1 reason to believe in my series on faith: Looking at the world and being disappointed.

I cannot get over a feeling, when I look around me, that something has gone terribly wrong. I study history, and the history I study is only of the last eighty years or so, and yet there is so much evidence of human evil that it would be enough to persuade me.

Here's what this says to me. SIN MATTERS. I know it's an unfashionable word, but it seems to me to sum up a reality - that human beings know that the Good is preferable, but for some reason the Bad remains a fundamental part of our reality. We can't get it out of our system. I certainly can't get it out of mine. I am part of the problem, and I'm never going to be able to solve it. The evil we commit is not excusable. And the evil we commit may be "small", because most of us have been lucky enough to be placed in contexts in which our actions affect few other people, but it is nonetheless evil.

I could, having come to this conclusion, live miserably and guiltily, try hard to do good, but wallow in guilt whenever I, inevitably, stuff up. I could stop caring, and just live for myself, taking, taking and taking, and making myself the centre of the universe.

Instead, I've found a God who gives hope in the midst of this disappointing, crazy world. He offers forgiveness for sin, because he took human evil seriously enough to send his Son to take the punishment we deserve so fully. He gives me strength to fight my natural selfishness, and he gives me assurance that when I stuff up, he'll take the blame off my shoulders. He gives me encouragement just to keep swimming, as Dorie in Finding Nemo says, struggling along hand-in-hand with the Creator who made this world and who one day will restore it.

faith

And without faith it is impossible to please God, because anyone who comes to him must believe that he exists and that he rewards those who earnestly seek him. Hebrews 11:6

You believe that there is one God. Good! Even the demons believe that—and shudder. James 2:19

Lately on this blog my posts have been rather "negative", in the sense that they've been arguing against something (in the last two cases, atheism or, more accurately, atheists). I want to change this. And I've been thinking a lot lately about the reasons I believe, and what it is that I believe in.

And this is just it, really - faith. There are so many implications about our views on faith displayed in the way we Christians do things that I'm not sure are always right. We are ashamed of doubts. Or we slam other denominations for not believing exactly the same doctrine as ourselves. We hold up actions above faith; we hold up faith above actions.

And I look at the two verses displayed above - seemingly contradictory to someone without faith, perhaps - and try to take in both messages, messages which are like two hands joining.

So I'm going to start a little blog series about faith. Not an all-encompassing diatribe covering all time and all space. Just on how faith works itself out in my head, in my life, in my confusion, in my moments of clarity. I will say no more now, but I will leave you with the verse that has been running through my head for weeks now:

Let us fix our eyes on Jesus, the author and perfecter of our faith, who for the joy set before him endured the cross, scorning its shame, and sat down at the right hand of the throne of God. Hebrews 12:2

atheist buses

The atheist bus campaign in the UK, supported by people like Richard Dawkins, above, has been publicised all over the world, and is appearing elsewhere - apparently my own country now has a few of the same.

"There's probably no God. Now stop worrying and enjoy your life."

To me, this is just another example of how people like Dawkins do not have a CLUE as to my motivations as a Christian/religious person.

I am not worried. I LOVE my life. I am a very happy person.

I didn't lie in bed last night worrying that God will smite me because I told a lie yesterday, which, for some reason, is an image that a lot of non-believers seem to have of Christians.

I didn't lie in bed last night clenching my fists, squeezing my eyes shut, thinking "Must. Rid. My. Mind. Of. Sinful. Desires." or "Must Make Myself Want Things I Don't Want."

I lay in bed, relaxed, thinking, "Thank you, God, for making life so amazing. Thank you for giving me so many good things."

If the atheist bus campaign is aimed at "converting" people from religion - which the message seems to imply - I think it is a waste of money, and it is one of the least convincing messages for atheism that I have ever heard.

letter to an evangelical atheist

Dear Evangelical Atheist, of the kind that broadcasts anti-religion in all possible spheres of communication,

YOU DO NOT HAVE A MONOPOLY ON REASON. Your self-satisfaction with your own powers of deduction is truly awe-inspiring. Your belief in atheism's potential to save the world from irrationality and boredom is, ironically, irrational in itself, and not all that tempting. In my opinion the increase of atheist dogma spouted in all public forums over the last decade or so is far in excess of anything the Church or other religious bodies or individual Christians have "forced" on New Zealand society.

Sincerely,
Allie

Why God is amazing, #256

Okay. So. This is what has happened tonight in our flat which gives me one of those lovely shivery feelings of "My goodness, God is really looking out for us!" Looking out for us in every aspect of our lives, not just the big "important" stuff.

1) I spent some birthday money my grandmother gave me on a new vacuum cleaner, which our flat sorely needed, as our old one had basically lost all sucking power. This enabled me to vacuum all living areas and my room in time for my birthday party a few days ago, and it enabled the other girls to vacuum their rooms.

2) I decided on a whim the other night not to leave my new vacuum cleaner in the laundry, where it was a little bit in the way, and moved it into my room.

3) This afternoon (and this is going to sound like a bad thing) our washing machine clogged, and flooded the laundry, also sending some water out into the kitchen and the bathroom. We had to mop up these rooms, leaving them sparkling clean, and we also tidied up the numerous Things that were lying around the laundry, leaving it neat and sort-of-spacious-looking.

4) A couple of hours later, there was a knock on the door. It was the woman who will hopefully be our landlady next year. She had rung up our current landlord (who has a grudge against us because we had to take him to court) for a reference, and he had said that we were too messy - which is, by the way, a very unfair statement and not borne out by his overall experience of us. She liked us when she met us, viewing her rental property, and decided a good idea would be to turn up unannounced and ask to view our current flat, to see if we really are as messy as our landlord says. Knowing that a) all our rooms were clean because we had a new vacuum cleaner, and b) we had just mopped kitchen, bathroom and laundry, we happily showed her around!

So, somehow, I removed my new vacuum cleaner from a room that was going to flood the next day, without knowing this was going to happen. Somehow, an "accidental" flood that caused a minor inconvenience for us actually ensured that our flat was sparklingly clean and well-kept when our possible landlady arrived.

God is AWESOME.

now I know in part, then I shall know fully

A very ponderous old man at my church stood up yesterday and gave us a rendition of a little poem which I'm not going to try and reproduce here, but went something along the lines of this: If Jesus came to visit your house, would you try and hide all the magazines, TV guides, books lying around and make it look like your Bible had pride of place?

Okay, so I get what he's trying to say, but all I could think of was how excited I would be to see Jesus.

God and suffering

What heartbreaking news. Two-year-old Aisling Symes. One week missing. One child's body found tonight in a gutter in West Auckland.

Last week, the tsunami in Samoa. Earthquakes in Indonesia. Floods in the Philippines. Et cetera.

In September, me, my friend, visiting Auschwitz. It happened a long time ago but time does not diminish the horror of what happened.

Break the teeth in their mouths, O God;
tear out, O LORD, the fangs of the lions!

Let them vanish like water that flows away;
when they draw the bow, let their arrows be blunted.

Like a slug melting away as it moves along,
like a stillborn child, may they not see the sun.

It's times like these that I am thankful for a God who is just and who will punish the evil.

But it's times like these that I feel I have to justify the title of my blog. How can a God who lets these things happen possibly be nice? The Psalm I quoted; why doesn't God always answer this prayer? And I'm never going to have a definitive answer for this.

I will be thinking about this over the next while and I will try to say something that does not sound incredibly trite and easy. At the same time I will not deny that I feel, overwhelmingly, that God is GOOD.

turning the other cheek

"You have heard that it was said, 'Eye for eye, and tooth for tooth.' But I tell you, Do not resist an evil person. If someone strikes you on the right cheek, turn to him the other also. And if someone wants to sue you and take your tunic, let him have your cloak as well." Matthew 5:38-40

Sometimes I wonder if we, as a Church, really take Jesus seriously. Or if we really want to implement his ideas in our lives.

I've had a lot of conversations lately that involved situations I was faced with, or other Christian people were faced with, which centered around a "difficult" or "dishonest" person who was trying to take advantage of me or them, sometimes in very small and insignificant ways, sometimes in much more significant ways. And I mentioned this principle, spoken from the very mouth of Jesus, as an example of how, perhaps, we should behave.

These are some of the responses that have followed:

- Jesus didn't mean we have to become doormats.

- It's not "loving" to give way to people all the time, because they'll just learn to rely on people always doing that for them.

- Jesus was talking about "evil people", not every-day relationships.

In response, I would acknowledge the grain of truth in these arguments. We would not, for example, give our children everything they ever asked us for, because it is definitely not loving to allow them to grow up spoiled and greedy.

But I wonder if we are in danger of explaining Jesus' words away entirely, treating the Sermon on the Mount as an amazing example of theological radicalism, and removing the need for it to be applied to our lives. We should not deceive ourselves - they are radical teachings - and Jesus meant every word. I don't think any of us will ever be able to live up to them, but shouldn't we at least acknowledge the desirability of this?

high church

I'm on a learning curve. A Church of England learning curve. Okay, so I actually attend an Anglican church at home, on Sunday evenings, but it's a student church and VERY "low church" - actually quite similar to the church I've grown up in, with its emphasis on Biblical teaching and meaningful singing.

Then the denomination I've grown up in (Open Brethren) has always been inherently anti-high church and grew out of a protest at the ritual and repetition of Church of England services. We don't DO glitzy churches or strange clothing or incense or liturgy or anything along those lines. We just don't. It's not so much a strong opinion anymore, as it used to be, it's just how we do it.

Since I got here (England), the only churches I have attended have been high church.

Carshalton All Saints, the local church which I have been attending with the family I am staying with. This is high church (though not exceedingly) - we attend the children's service, but it's still all liturgy and some very traditional hymns with pipe organ accompaniment. A bizarre experience when kids are running round, bursting into tears, talking noisily, playing in the aisles - actually kind of nice. It's strange for me, though, getting used to the idea of getting splashed with water as the vicar walks down the aisle splashing it at people (and I still haven't found out why), while going to take the bread and wine and having it placed in my mouth for me seems like a weird invasion of personal space.

Then on Sunday I attended Evensong at St Paul's Cathedral. Standing as a procession of choristers and a whole bunch of ministers parade in behind a big gold cross, sitting, standing, repeating, singing (which was fun), chanting, listening to passages of Scripture read out with a solemn "Here ends the lesson" afterwards - the only familiar thing for me was the sermon. In that glorious setting, though, it all seemed to fit. I can't say I felt any closer to God than in my boring little church building at home, though, or the school hall where our campus church meets. The only exception was the absolutely spinetingling pipe organ which was obviously played by someone really good, and which swelled up to fill the whole, enormous building at the conclusion of the service. Wow.

When I think of these two churches, and compare them to my only experience of Anglicanism at home - I realise how varied the Church of England is. And in the past I would have been tempted to say, my type is better. I still prefer my comfort zone. But I am starting to see how ritual could suit some people, and how the words they repeat every Sunday could mean just as much, or more, to them than the "freer" atmosphere of the "low church" or the nonconformist denominations. I don't know. In future, anyhow, I will try not to judge.

Chagall in Chichester Cathedral

Based on Psalm 150:

Praise the LORD.
Praise God in his sanctuary;
praise him in his mighty heavens.
Praise him for his acts of power;
praise him for his surpassing greatness.
Praise him with the sounding of trumpet,
praise him with the harp and lyre,
praise him with tambourine and dancing,
praise him with the strings and flute,
praise him with the clash of cymbals,
praise him with resounding cymbals.

Let everything that has breath praise the LORD.

Praise the LORD.

encouragement

I would consider myself an encouraging person. When I realised, in my late teens, how much a single compliment meant to me, or an attempt to build me up and strengthen me to persevere, it occurred to me that other people probably felt the same way. From then on, I've really made an effort to be someone who notices other people - that girl who looks a bit hesitant because she's got a new hairstyle and isn't sure whether people will like it; the person who was absolutely terrified about the public speaking they just did... and to give them genuine and helpful praise. If I notice that someone is looking particularly nice or something like that, I'll tell them, not just keep it to myself, especially if they're someone who doesn't usually get a lot of compliments.

But this weekend I got a card from one of my favourite older people at the church, who I've known pretty much since I was born, and who has The Gift of Encouragement (and a lot of other gifts too). She basically said that when I go away on Thursday for a couple of months (to Europe, eee!), I would be missed. Not because of my super-stunning good looks, or my musical prowess, or anything like that. :) But because of something in my spiritual life in the church that she thinks has been developing.

I just found this really encouraging. What she was encouraging me in is something I've struggled with for a long time and I have been making a real effort, but still don't feel like it comes naturally to me. For her to notice and encourage me to persevere... well, it means a lot.

And I started wondering - I pride myself on being an encouraging person, but do I really give out spiritual encouragement? Compliments on the way someone looks are not exactly the be-all-and-end-all of encouragement, especially as a Christian. I don't mean to stop giving them, but I feel challenged to do something more than that.

believing Thomas

I have a soft spot for the apostle Thomas. In case you need a reminder, this is his most famous appearance in the gospels:

Now Thomas (called Didymus), one of the Twelve, was not with the disciples when Jesus came. So the other disciples told him, "We have seen the Lord!" But he said to them, "Unless I see the nail marks in his hands and put my finger where the nails were, and put my hand into his side, I will not believe it."

A week later his disciples were in the house again, and Thomas was with them. Though the doors were locked, Jesus came and stood among them and said, "Peace be with you!" Then he said to Thomas, "Put your finger here; see my hands. Reach out your hand and put it into my side. Stop doubting and believe."

Thomas said to him, "My Lord and my God!"

Then Jesus told him, "Because you have seen me, you have believed; blessed are those who have not seen and yet have believed."
John 20:24-29

I find this one of the more moving and amazing post-Resurrection stories. And I identify with him. I feel like someone who has been not reluctant to believe but innately skeptical, yet Jesus has overwhelmed all that and I have thrown myself at his feet, pronouncing him my Lord and my God. Moving from intellectual assent to a personal faith.

Now, this is why I sort of resent the fact that Thomas is henceforth referred to as "Doubting Thomas" by most Christians. "Don't be a doubting Thomas!"

Actually, I see Thomas as a model to emulate, much like any of the other apostles. Were any of them especially admirable around the time of Jesus' death? Did ANY exhibit great faith in Jesus' plan? Peter, especially - does anyone call him Denying Peter? No, because the resurrection came, and his life turned completely around. He became a man on fire who shared the gospel with thousands and thousands of people, stopped only by a torturous martyr's death. It is utterly inappropriate to call him Denying Peter, because he was forgiven, and he changed.

Judas, on the other hand, is still called the Betrayer, because he never recovered himself from that act.

Thomas, then - the Thomas who went off into the world, into India according to church tradition, and who died a martyr's death much like almost all the apostles - deserves a break. Thomas' 'flaw', like Peter's, was overcome by Christ, and Thomas became a warrior for the early Christian church. He should be remembered for his belief, not for the doubt which was a crucial part of his personal journey to belief.

learning a practical internet-based lesson

You know those blogs like this one, Debunking Christianity, or forums for religious debate on the internet? You know how it's really tempting to join in the mud-throwing or to defend yourself from the mud-throwing?

Do. Not. Bother. Just don't. That's my Lesson From The Week.

First of all, it's embarrassing, when you see people whose side you are on just behaving foolishly. Either making arguments that are stupid or that completely miss the point, or being MEAN. I hope I'm not being too biased when I say that in my experience, name-calling is a fundamental part of the anti-Christian approach. This can be as obvious as something like "idiot", or it can be more subtle - on "Debunking Christianity" this week, it was "nitpicker". No need to explain why exactly someone shouldn't pick nits in his argument, just the name itself is enough to pull forward a negative image. Anyway, we can take it. We are told to expect persecution; a few names thrown at us is not exactly being fed to lions. Just get over it and respond in a mature and respectful way, which is so much more persuasive an argument for Christianity than any logical rabbits we can pull out of our hats. Unfortunately, while Christians generally aren't the first people to do this, the temptation is just too strong once the mud starts flying, and we retaliate in kind all too often.

Secondly, people on these forums don't get that there is more to an argument than logic or cleverness. And it is impossible to convey that over the internet. I've seen some people respond to Christians on this forum: 'Go away and learn some elementary philosophy and theory of ethics, and then I'll listen to you.' Okay, so academic knowledge can help someone's argument skills. But do we really have to be so pretentious as to believe that unless you've got a DEGREE IN PHILOSOPHY you can't hold religious or anti-religious beliefs? Surely there are better ways to spend our time.

Thirdly, the people whose opinions you are questioning do NOT want to have a reasonable debate. They haven't entered forums or blogs like this in order to hear both sides of the story, just as we probably haven't. And if you disagree with someone they approve of, they're not going to listen to you. They will either ignore you, or completely misinterpret your points (which happened to me), twisting your words to make it sound like you are arguing something completely different. Then when you clarify your position, they won't give an inch, instead diverting the argument down some road which is irrelevant to the topic at hand (while not necessarily a bad argument in itself).

Fourthly, this gets really frustrating, and polite, respectful argument becomes nearly impossible. Just the act of disagreeing is quickly interpreted as an aggressive act, not merely an observation. No matter how hard you try to remain dignified, your words can be interpreted differently. This is because you have chosen an internet forum for this debate. Subtext is impossible, irony flies over heads, and people who are used to fighting everything will read everything you write in that light. Unless you fill your comments with emoticons or explain in parentheses every time you say something that you don't mean it in a negative light, you just can't convey meaning like you can in spoken language.

Fifthly, in little comment wars on blogs - well, you can pretend the other person is just some text on a computer. They don't have a background, or a family, or wisdom, or experience. You can't see them or look them in the eyes when you tell them that you think they are wrong, and as hurtful as it can seem, they don't realise the effect on you when they insult you or call you names. In effect, unless you have had a lot to do with someone over the internet, you don't know them, and you don't care. Result: snarky, painful, rude, horrible debates.

So. I've learnt my lesson. Instead of listening to people argue about why God allows suffering, why don't we go out and actually do something about suffering? Instead of wasting our time trying to convince or de-convince people who have already made up their minds, who live thousands of miles away from us and don't want to talk to us, why not talk to the people who are actually around us?

The Red Dean

I've been thinking about Faith and Works lately, and the arguments which the modern Church has about them. My whole take on the issue: faith is the crucial cornerstone of Christian belief and attitude. That doesn't minimise the importance of works, and people who say you have to emphasise one or the other are building a false dichotomy. They can and do go together. However, it is not enough to entice people into Christianity by telling them it's all about loving one another and doing good. It is impossible to love your enemies or to do good to your enemies without first accepting that we have all sinned, and that God has forgiven us all. Faith in Christ's sacrifice and resurrection comes first.

Anyway, that's my current opinion.

And it's slightly influenced by some of the sources I've been looking at for my research - which is about British worldviews of the Soviet Union, and how they developed and were challenged over the period 1928-1943. It's a dramatic period, and I can see why many people really wanted Soviet Russia to succeed in building Utopia. But the wishful thinking of these people led them to ignore or excuse extreme brutality.

Especially interesting to me as a Christian are the Christians who supported the Soviet Union and tried to make excuses for it. Hewlett Johnson, who was the Dean of Canterbury in this period (nicknamed "the Red Dean"), is the most famous example of this. I'm currently reading his book The Socialist Sixth of the World.

"Unquestionably the material results [of Russian industrialisation] are astonishingly great, and may well be envied. The moral results are still more striking, and cannot be obscured by all the mistakes and crimes which from time to time have caused triumph to Soviet enemies and sadness to Soviet friends."

Johnson's whole argument is: Okay. So the Soviet leaders are atheists who believe that religion is the opiate of the masses. But they are fundamentally Christian, because they want to provide for everyone equally, economically, and raise the masses from illiteracy and poverty. This is what Christ would have wanted, and Christ laid the most emphasis on this.

A more specific example of his theory, perhaps? Here's one quote:

"The vast moral achievements of the Soviet Union are in no small measure due to the removal of fear. Fear haunts workers in a capitalist land. Fear of dismissal, fear that a thousand workless men stand outside the gate eager to get his job, breaks the spirit of man and breeds servility. ... Christian moralists are right in their attack on fear. To remove fear is to release energy. ... 'Fear not' was a word constantly on the lips of Christ."

So basically, a) Christ told us not to fear - it's irrelevant that he told us not to fear precisely because of God's control of the world, which is a matter of faith. Johnson is twisting Christ's words. Christ never told us that fear itself is just wrong - he said it's a waste of time for the Christian because of our faith in a God who cares for us. Not because of our faith in a government that will provide job security.

b) The only thing to fear is the loss of a job. This ignores the numbing fear that millions lived with in the Soviet Union, the fear of not being quite enthusiastic enough, the fear of making some mistake of theory that results in purge, the fear of the NKVD knocking on your door in the middle of the night, the fear of disappearing into exile or death.

Finally, in perhaps one of the more ridiculous sections, he says: "They are working for a common good that seems to me essentially Christian in its morality, however much they may deny the fact."

Looking back from the vantage point of the historian, we can see just how wrong Johnson was. To be fair to him, he didn't know the extent of the Terror in Russia. But he knew enough, and what he didn't know was often because he didn't want to know. Because, in theory, the Soviets promised economic freedom to the masses, he thought this was enough to make them Christian in morality - faith in God was unimportant, or at least not as important as works. This was shortsightedness.

getting it

I've been struggling with the concepts of predestination--which I believe in--and free will--which I also believe in--for a while now. Does God simply pluck a few lucky individuals out of the masses, and bestow on them the ability to sense him? Or do we find him? I have a feeling there is an element of both, but that it's mostly weighted towards God's call and God's power.

However, I still believe that salvation is open to everyone. God is not willing that any should perish; God so loved the world; whoever turns to me I will never cast out; and so on and so forth. And if we are willing to ask, seek, and knock, I believe God has chosen us.

Regardless of my tenative conclusions on this subject, I've noticed something that is perhaps a part of this. Several people I know who have grown up in Christian families, who have perhaps even seen themselves as believers for a period of their lives, have amazed me in their lack of understanding of the beliefs of those of us who still believe. I would have thought that being an eyewitness into the workings of a Christian family would have given them a certain insight into how Christians live/think... but no.

I don't want to be specific with examples in some cases, but it involves things like assuming that unmarried Christian couples would already be sleeping together, or practical things like that, that seem pretty simplistic to figure out if you're aware that someone is a Christian.

Other cases it's been matters of interpretation. Brooke Fraser, a Kiwi singer who is a Christian, has released a couple of albums of music that is not quite overtly Christian - but I would have thought you'd have to be pretty stupid not to pick up on the overtones. However, someone heard these lyrics, from a song which is about asking God to throw you a "lifeline" in the seas of life:

Wake up feeling convicted 
I know something's not right 
Reacquaint my knees with the carpet 
I have to get this out 
'Cos it's obstructing you and I 
Dry up the seas that keep us parted

This someone, who had lost the faith not all that long ago, thought that Brooke, when she sings "reacquaint my knees with the carpet", was talking about how she'd been abused as a child, by someone who would drag her knees over the carpet! Uh... no.

These aren't that hefty as examples, but: Have you ever found this, and been surprised by it, in ex-Christians or people who have been pretty clued up in Christian life? That even though they've had huge experience of Christians and the basics of Christian life and so on, they just don't seem to get it? Is it possible that getting it is a gift of God, and some people just don't have it?

guess what? I'm happy

I have come to the startling realisation that I am really, really happy. 

For a long time I've thought depressed = interesting. Being happy, especially in the College of Arts at universities, is frowned upon. Happy people go and become engineers or nurses or mathematics teachers or plumbers; the great philosophers, artists and novelists of the world are drawn from a pool of sad, angry people who, paradoxically, form groups based around the mission statement "we are loners whom no one understands", and sit in cafes bemoaning the world with eyes like dead fish. Insight is seeing how horrifying everything is, and being sort of okay with it or resigned to your inability to do anything about it, unless it all becomes too much for you and then you die.

I remember last year someone saying to me that they got depressed quite often but they didn't really want to be happy all the time because that's boring. They actually have a playlist on their iPod, a playlist of music that encourages a depressing state of mind. Of course, who am I to suggest their masochism is needless? In fact, I have behaved very similarly in the past, in the mistaken belief that I should feel more sad. At the same time, I look back now and think that perhaps they are wrong. I definitely believe that I don't have to be embarrassed about being happy.

Joy doesn't mean that I'm never sad. My mum comes into my mind a lot at the moment, and I miss her very much, and wish she was around to give me the advice and support I didn't always take advantage of when she was alive. I see things on the news almost every night that are downright depressing and make me wish that Jesus would just come back RIGHT NOW and sort things out. Nothing about my future is clear, and it's sometimes scary.

But there's something irrepressibly happy within me. I can never milk my sadness to full effect; opportunities to make people feel sorry for me never last long, because someone will say something funny and laughter will bubble up - actually, I'll probably end up laughing at myself. I'm happy - and it's all because of God.

Besides, being a happy person doesn't mean you ignore the troubles of the world. I tentatively believe that people who like drowning in depression over the state of the world do exactly that - drown - and nothing more. Happy people want to spread the joy; they are the active ones who will fight the tide of sorrow and not give up.

What I am not saying: Only Christians can be happy. I know that's not true. But I do think that my happiness depends on something constant, someone I can trust. And I know from experience that hard things will happen and yet somehow I will still be happy. It's something underlying, not a superficial overlay. The only thing that can threaten it is drawing away from God, as I found out over last summer.

It sounds supremely arrogant, and it doesn't sound very sophisticated. I hate it when people say precisely what I am saying, especially when they say it as an instruction - i.e., you're in a church, act happy! even though you've gone through an absolutely hellish time, you should be happy! So I am not saying this as an instruction, but as a self-expression - I have been surprised by joy, in the words of C. S. Lewis, and no one can take it away from me.