An Open Letter on Faith, Doubt and the Crazy Horse Momument:

Last Saturday, one of the parents of my former students, asked me to participate in a “right of passage” ceremony for his son.  As one of four individuals charged with speaking into the life of this young man, I was asked to address the topic of “faith.”  What follows below is a transcript of our time together. With this young man’s permission, I now share these remarks with you.

 

The Sunday Seven

March 25th, 2012

Welcome to this week’s edition of “The Sunday Seven.”  As always, this post is all about sharing some of the more interesting news and insights that I have encountered throughout the week, as well as a little humor meant to lighten your day.  Hopefully, as you scan the links, you’ll find a little something here that will peak your interest and give you pause to think.   Enjoy!

 

“The Tree of Life” (2011): A One-Minute Film Review

How to explain a Terence Malick film to someone who has never seen one?  All at once, they are poetic, rapturous, maddening, illuminating, and even, perhaps, in a few choice moments, a bit pretentious. But one thing is for sure.  No matter what else you one might be tempted to say about a film by this man, you can never say that it is … expected. Enter Malick’s latest offering: The Tree of Life.  Lacking anything that could be conventionally described as a clear or linear storyline, the director, instead, seems utterly content to film a visual meditation on the themes of creation and evolution, fathers and sons, faith and doubt.  It is a story about a particular family rooted in a particular culture, but it’s larger than that, more ambitious in its reach.  Perhaps the best way to say it is to say that while this is the story of a family set in the 1950s, it is also the timeless story of humanity and its’ God.

In his book entitled Faith of the Fatherless: The Psychology of Atheism, psychologist Paul Vitz puts forth an argument in which he suggests that severe disappointment with one’s biological father often leads to an individual rejecting the concept of a heavenly Father.  Tracing both the histories of prominent atheists as well as prominent theists, Vitz turns Freud’s projection theory of religion on its head, as he makes a compelling case for a correlation between our willingness to conceive of a God that cares and our experiences with fathers that may or may not.

In many ways, The Tree of Life is an almost prayerful examination of Vitz’s central thesis, filled with wondrous moments of staggering beauty and wrenching snapshots of belittling pain.  And in the end, you can almost hear the words of the Apostle Paul echoing through the narrated voiceover:  “There are two ways in life: the way of nature and the way of grace.  You have to choose which one you’ll follow.”

I highly recommend The Tree of Life as one of the most audacious and profound films released in this new millennium.

This film has been rated PG-13 for thematic material and brief language.

 

Can He “Get Me Right?”: Doubt … (part 3)

This is the third post in an ongoing series on the role of doubt in the life and practice of the church. Other posts within this series include:

       Is There Room for An “Anthem of Doubt?

       Big Enough for Hate Mail: Psalm 88

In my first post in this series , I attempted to unpack the lyrics of U2′s classic track, “I Still Haven’t Found What I’m Looking For.”  I began there because it was in the lyrics of that song that I found my way back to a faith in the atoning work of Jesus the Christ; and because it seems to me that we need to open this discussion of doubt amongst believers.  Having said that, there is a genuine danger in allowing the reader to falsely conclude that all doubt, such as that expressed by U2,  is a search on a long, heroic quest.  While that may be true to the experience of some believers in some circumstances, there is another, darker side of that coin that I suspect is behind most of the doubts that overwhelm us.  To help me illustrate my point, I want to introduce you to a song called “Get Me Right” by Dashboard Confessional.   Might I suggest you play the video as you read through the lyrics that follow.

Click to enlarge the lyric sheet

Much like the opening verses of “I Still Haven’t Found What I’m Looking For,” the narrator of this song is on a journey.  Only here, he’s not looking for Jesus Himself, he’s looking for someone else that can point the way to Jesus.  And this, of course, brings me to my first point.  How often, in the midst of doubt, do we find ourselves unable to actually engage the one we doubt?  How often do we go looking for all sorts of other places were we can talk about our doubt, but not actually deal with it in a one to one fashion.  It’s as if a wife suspects her husband of marital infidelity, but instead of approaching him, she runs to all her friends asking them if they’ve seen anything?  At the core of our being, we were designed for relationship; and at the core of any relationship lies the ability to effectively communicate.  When we make the decision not to talk directly to the source of our doubts, we make a choice for ruptured communication, which almost inevitably leads towards a further fracturing of the relationship itself.

Now look towards the end of the song.  Do you see how the writer has shifted away from describing the journey and talking to his friend?  Do you see how he now begins to talk directly with Jesus?  Look at the difference in the lyrics.  In the first half of the song, the singer is building up the courage to talk, nervously commenting about the woods and the stairs leading up to the house and his friend’s recent hair cut.  But when he actually engages in prayer, the lyrics ascend to new heights of transparency.  Now, face-to-face with the one he doubts, he can unleash everything he is feeling.

What do you think?  Do you think that doubt can be lessened by talking directly to the One that you doubt?  Or is that asking too much of the individual who is struggling to believe?

 

From Occupy Wall Street to “V for Vendetta”

Late last week, cnn.com, Time magazine and other similar news outlets carried a story about the appearance of Guy Fawkes masks at various Occupy Wall Street protests around the world.  Having just written on the subject of David Fincher’s Fight Club, I was not terribly surprised to see this, for I had concluded my review with a prediction that the Occupy Wall Street movement, modeled as it was on the Arab Spring, could only move in the direction of violent resistance.  So where’s the violence you ask?  How does a mask equal violence?  Well, in order to understand that, you need to understand another recent film that popularized the mask and explained its origins.

Still feeling a bit confused?  Let me break it down for you.  V for Vendetta is a film based on the now-famous graphic novel written by Alan Moore in the early 1980s.  The film itself is set in the near-future Britain, which is under the control of an extremist, right-wing government called Norsefire.  Having survived a nuclear war that has decimated other parts of the globe, “Britain prevails” by submitting itself to the policies of a planned economy, government-controlled media, and concentration camps that segregate racial and sexual minorities.  Moreover, the government itself is legitimated – or propped up – by religious images and language that are used to justify the harsh, totalitarian actions of the leader, who can only be charitably described as a Hitler-esque figure.

The cross depicted in the film is a papal or archiepiscopal cross, marked by two transoms of uneven length.

As for the protagonist of the story, V is a man that has been deeply scarred by the appalling experiments carried out under the authority of this government.  Enraged, and permanently disfigured, he adopts the persona and mask of Guy Fawkes, a true-to-life historical figure that attempted to blow-up Parliament in 1605.  As an anarchist, V’s violent plan of action is driven forward by two overwhelming desires:

1. The desire to expose the lies that undergird the actions of the government.
2. The desire to awaken the political consciousness of the dulled masses that have been drugged into a stupor by the idiocy of the television and propaganda.

Sound familiar?  At the heart of the Occupy Wall Street movement — at the heart of the Arab Spring and the G20 protests – lies a deep, globalized dissatisfaction with the way that governments have conducted themselves.  Moreover, these movements are founded on populist ideals that don’t propose a way forward, so much as they propose a revolution in which society is reordered for the purpose of meeting the needs (or wants) of those that are either legitimately oppressed or those that mistakenly see themselves as such.

So the only questions that truly remains are these:

How long will it be before one of these mask-wearing protestors takes their dissatisfaction to the next level? 

How long before “Fight Club” becomes “Project Mayhem?” 

How long before the people tire of “peaceful resistance” and go looking for salvation in the form of revolution? 

V for Vendetta is rated R by the Motion Picture Association of America.  It contains: strong violence, some language and a scene with dead, naked bodies being tossed into mass graves.

 

Big Enough for Hate Mail: Psalm 88

This is the second post in an ongoing series on the subject of doubt in the life and practice of the church.

In my first post in this series, I gave a you brief glimpse into my journey out of doubt and into the world of faith. 

Let’s try that again.  In the first post of this series, I gave you a brief glimpse into my journey out of a prolonged period of doubt into the world of faith that was actually large enough to include room for doubt.  You see, doubt isn’t something that ever truly goes away.  Doubt is the very human tendency to take our eyes off of what we can’t see only to focus them on the things that we can see.  And given the fact that I am highly skeptical of my ability to ever stop doing this until I am made complete in the New Creation, I imagine I will always have periods in my life where I can’t see the things that I hope for because I’m too busy looking at the things that press down upon me and make me fearful.

This, of course, raises the question: how do I deal with doubt when it arises?  Where do I go?  It’s one thing to simply say, “Turn it over to the LORD,” but it’s another thing entirely to turn something over to someone that you are struggling to comprehend, let alone trust.   So for me, the answer to the question has become quite routine.  When I doubt, I turn to Psalm 88.  Why that particular Psalm you ask?  Because it has the virtue of being utterly unique amongst all of the other lament Psalms found in the pages of Scripture.  Allow me to explain.

In the middle of the Bible, there is a book of poetry called Psalms.  Within this book, there are exactly 150 works of poetry that were composed by the Jewish people as they sought to follow in the footsteps of YHWH (or “Yahweh”).  Within those 150 works, there are approximately 40 poems that are classified as “Lament Psalms.” Now what is a Lament Psalm, you ask, and why should I care?  Well, a Lament Psalm is a poem that expresses a deep and profound disappointment with God.  These are poems that intentionally give voice to the inner doubts and fears of the very human authors that desperately wanted to believe in God, but found Him lacking in terms of keeping His promises to them.  Not surprisingly, by the end of a typical Lament Psalm, the author has come around and he finds himself on his knees worshiping and repenting for his lack of belief.

Now, take a look at Psalm 88.  Like all the other Lament Psalms, it brings a serious charge against God.  The author has tried to follow in the ways of God and yet, he finds himself in a position where he believes that God has not kept His end of the bargain.  Now look more closely at the closing of the closing of the poem.

     I am oppressed and have been on the verge of death since my youth.

     I have been subjected to your horrors and am numb with pain. 

     Your anger overwhelms me; your terrors destroy me.

     They surround me like water all day long; they join forces and encircle me. 

     You cause my friends and neighbors to keep their distance; 

     those who know me leave me alone in the darkness.

Stop and think about that for a moment.  Whereas every other Lament Psalm ultimately ends with the human author turning back to his Maker, Psalm 88 ends in complete and utter despair.  The author does not turn and worship.  He does not bend knee and submit.  His simply closes his poem with a series of charges and lays down his pen …

I love that Psalm.   I love everything about it because it tells me something about the character of YHWH.  If you take seriously the claims of 2 Timothy 3:16, than you know that God is intimately involved in the writing of this Psalm.  It is, as Timothy says, “God breathed” and “profitable” for study.  Think about that for a minute.  Think about the nature of a God who is so invested in the life of this despairing author that he inspires the author to write hate mail.  And now think about a God that is so invested in humanity as a whole that He sees fit to include this kind of poetry in His divine revelation.

What does that say about God?  What does it say about the room He leaves for anger, doubt, despair, and rage? 

 

Big Enough for Hate Mail: Is There Room For An “Anthem of Doubt?”

Twenty-one years ago, on the verge of walking away from everything I had ever been taught about faith, God and forgiveness, I came across a song entitled “I Still Haven’t Found What I’m Looking For.” Now many of you have probably heard this song, and some of you may even know it as one of U2′s signature “Christian songs.”  But I want you to take a moment to read through the lyrics with me, for it was these lyrics that brought me back from the brink of finally walking away for good.  And it is these lyrics that continue to push me as I consider the role of doubt in the life of the Church.

I Still Haven’t Found What I’m Looking For
I have climbed the highest mountain
I have run through the fields
Only to be with you
Only to be with you

I have run, I have crawled
I have scaled these city walls
These city walls
Only to be with you

But I still haven’t found what I’m looking for
But I still haven’t found what I’m looking for

I have kissed honey lips
Felt the healing in her fingertips
It burned like fire
This burning desire

I have spoke with the tongue of angels
I have held the hand of a devil
It was warm in the night
I was cold as a stone

But I still haven’t found what I’m looking for
But I still haven’t found what I’m looking for

Up until this point, the song remains fairly ambiguous.  Set to the sound of a bell-like guitar, it could have been about any number of things, up to an including the pursuit of a woman whom the author had scorned.  But watch how all of this ambiguity comes into sharp relief over the next two verses.

I believe in the kingdom come
Then all the colors will bleed into one
Bleed into one
Well, yes, I’m still running

You broke the bonds and you
Loosed the chains
Carried the cross
And my shame
All my shame
You know I believe it

Do you see what I am seeing?  What was uncertain over the first few verses has now become crystal clear.  The mountains that have been scaled, all the running, all the crawling — all of this has been done in the search of a Savior.  And not some nebulous, generic “savior” or some earthly, man-made construct mind you, but the Savior of the Christian Story — the Savior on a mission to build a Kingdom that truly has broken the bonds and loosed the chains.  And that is why, once you understand the subject of the song, the chorus is all the more shocking.

But I still haven’t found what I’m looking for
But I still haven’t found what I’m looking for

Back in 1987, when this song first exploded onto the scene, many mistook the jubilant sounds of Edge’s guitar and the choral sound of the New Voices of Freedom Gospel Choir as the music of faith.  But Bono himself has gone on record as saying ”[this song is an] anthem of doubt more than faith.”  And for me, that “anthem of doubt” was as vital and as important as it was shocking.  For you see, I had been raised in a context where the internal doubts I experienced every Sunday weren’t allowed to be raised in a serious fashion.  When I tried to ask these questions in my confirmation class, I was told to keep quiet, lest I disturb the faith of the other students who were clearly more godly and pious.  So when I heard a self-professed believer in Christ openly admit that he had doubts, it was as if I finally had found a conversation partner – someone who I could “talk to” about the things that I was told shouldn’t be brought up in good company.

Years later, I find that I still wrestle with doubt from time to time, but never in the same way that I once did.  Gone are the sleepless nights spent worrying about whether I was “in” or “out” or whether there even was an “in” or an “out.”  Now, my doubts have become grounded, tethered to the mooring of the Psalms which give voice to all sorts of doubts and fears.  Now I know that my doubts are just one more sign of my own frailty and dependence upon God.   Looking back, it’s kind of ironic how it took an “anthem of doubt” to restore my sense of faith.

This post is the first in a longer series of posts on the subject of doubt in the church.  If this has struck a chord with you, be sure to come back for more.  Next up: “Big Enough for Hate Mail.”