A Haunting Past and A Deceptive Conscience

           I should say that what comes next is kind of a rant, but I needed to articulate what I’m thinking. Please don’t read if you are not interested in those kind of things and do bear with me if you do continue reading. 

I had to deal with a human relationship issue and it wasn’t easy because I was confronted with failings in my past and a possibly (and likely) dishonest conscience. It seems I might have done things a bit too secretly, but then again, I’ve never been one keen to announce the things I do. I’ve realised that not telling people about what I do is enticing because there is room for irresponsibility and failure. After all, if nobody ‘outside’ knows about a mistake, it doesn’t really hurt right? Come to think of it, this is pretty scary: that I prefer to ‘work in darkness.’ Maybe that’s where my conscience is being deceitful, and I’ve been tricked – brainwashed - by my own self to think I’m doing what’s right. How brilliantly ironic.  

          Should I then divulge everything that I do to everybody? Must I report each activity to everyone around me? Would this not seem like drawing attention to myself? Perhaps I need an accountability partner, but it seems difficult to find someone in Durham to be that. In any case, I think I need to trust myself less, doubt my heart a bit more – after all, is it not ‘deceitful above all things, and desperately sick; who can understand it?’ (Jeremiah 17:9)

          Can I escape my past? Am I able to no longer slink in the shadows and hide behind verbal subterfuge when questioned about my motivation for doing things? I know forgiveness and truth can only be found in Christ, but sometimes I think I prefer covering things up and pretentiously accepting acknowledgement from others. This reminds me of John’s Gospel where he write ‘the light has come into the world, and people loved the darkness rather than the light because their deeds were evil’ (John 3:19).

          It is painful to meet the spectres of my past shortcomings because I am ashamed, terribly ashamed. If I couple that with a deceptive conscience, I think I have the right ingredients for making headway into destruction-land where I not only hurt myself but the people around me, because I’m always running away from confronting the truth. That means I’m running away from God.

          Maybe I should lay my cards bare, be man enough to face up to the consequences of my past (mis)deeds, and stop pretending I’ve got things sorted. I don’t really know how that would look like, but I think it entails not closeting aspects of my past that should be open to scrutiny. It also means that I will have to tread really carefully and constantly place my conscience on the witness dock under intense cross-examination – perhaps even to others’ gaze - when I involve myself in certain activities.

          I guess it’s time to admit that I’m wrong, and cleave ever more desperately to the cross of Christ. When times are turbulent, when I want to rectify things but am misunderstood and circumstances are exacerbated, and my carefully constructed castle of cards comes crashing, then perhaps I can learn to understand these lines ‘Nothing in my hand I bring, / Simply to Thy cross I cling.’ 

Same or Different? Let’s (not) appeal to political jargon to answer the question!

           With so many voices speaking about the ‘Same God’ standoff, I thought I might add my two cents worth of thoughts and reflect on the issue a little. But here are a few links you might want to check out if you aren’t sure about the nature of the issue: 1) http://www.christianitytoday.com/gleanings/2015/december/wheaton-college-hijab-professor-same-god-larycia-hawkins.html; 2) http://www.christianitytoday.com/gleanings/2015/december/same-god-standoff-wheaton-college-larycia-hawkins-hijab.html; 3) https://www.washingtonpost.com/news/acts-of-faith/wp/2015/12/17/wheaton-professors-suspension-is-about-anti-muslim-bigotry-not-theology/?tid=sm_fb.

          Just to quickly summarise: Dr Hawkins does 2 things: 1) expresses solidarity with Muslims by wearing a hijab; 2) writes this ‘I stand in religious solidarity with Muslims because they, like me, a Christian, are people of the book And as Pope Francis stated last week, we worship the same God.’ in a Facebook post (you can find the link to the post in paragraph 4 of the first article above). Wheaton College finds issue, not with the former incident, but in the latter statement. In this released statement (http://www.wheaton.edu/Media-Center/Media-Relations/Statements/Wheaton-College-Statement-Regarding-Dr-Hawkins), Wheaton College says ‘Dr Hawkins’ administrative leave resulted from theological statements that seemed inconsistent with Wheaton College’s doctrinal convictions, and is in no way related to her race, gender or commitment to wear a hijab during Advent.’ Alright, this sounds fair, Wheaton are aware that their disciplinary action might be misconstrued and so clearly states that it is Dr Hawkins’ theological statement about Muslims and Christians worshipping the same God which has led to this action. However, might this be a weak excuse for a harsh disciplinary action on Wheaton’s part?

          Miroslav Volf seems to think so, saying that ‘There isn’t any theological justification for Hawkins’s forced administrative leave. Her suspension is not about theology and orthodoxy. It is about enmity toward Muslims. More precisely, her suspension reflects enmity toward Muslims, taking on a theological guise of concern for Christian orthodoxy’ (see 3^rd article). He continues to write ‘What is theologically wrong with asserting that Christians and Muslims worship the same God, according to Hawkins’s opponents — and mine?’ And I think this is a brilliant question to ask. Indeed, what is wrong?

          So we return to 1 more quotation from Volf’s article

‘Hawkins asserted that Muslims and Christians worship the same God. She did not insist that Christians and Muslims believe the same things about that one God. She did not state that Islam and Christianity are the same religion under a different name, or even that Islam is equally as true as Christianity. She did not deny that God was incarnate in Christ. Neither did she contest that the one God is the Holy Trinity. In fact, by having signed Wheaton’s Statement of Faith, she affirmed her belief in God as the Trinity and Jesus Christ as God and man, fundamental Christian convictions which, among other things, distinguish Christian faith from Islam.’

          I think the answer to the question ‘what is theologically wrong?’ is the plain fact that Christians and Muslims really don’t worship the same God. Why? Let’s unpack the phrase ‘same God’ and consider some of its implications.

          This phrase should encompass aspects such as same character (for want of a better word), same metanarrative, resulting in same belief systems which in turn affects the behaviour and actions of their respective human followers. Thus, when the Christian says ‘God,’ there are implications to our usage of this term. We mean one God, three Persons; we mean a relational God; we mean Jesus’ divinity; we view God’s self-revelation in history as a redemptive narrative that culminates in the death and resurrection of Jesus Christ; we mean that history is heading towards Jesus’ Second Coming and that the Christian’s role on earth now is to proclaim His gospel to the nations. These are just a few examples of the God Christians believe in, and I don’t think a Muslim can agree that Allah is the ‘same God’ as I just described.

          What Hawkins and Volf seem to have done is take the lowest common denominator between Christianity and Islam’s teachings about ‘God’ whilst ignoring the glaring and significant differences between both religions. How can a Muslim - who says Jesus is not God, and a Christian – who says that Jesus is God, affirm that they are worshipping the same God? I really cannot see how the logic works, the Christian God cannot be the same as the Muslim God. The footballer cannot say to the handball player: ‘we’re playing the same game,’ because there are certain differences that are pretty significant; here I am thinking about God’s nature. The BMW cannot say to the Nissan: ‘hey, we have the same identity.’ No, though there are similarities, the BMW is different from the Nissan in so many ways that to pick up on simplistic parallels and make those the controlling category of identification is, I think, quite absurd. I don’t think a Karate and a Wing Chun exponent would fancy other people observe that they basically ‘come from the same tradition’ (compare ‘worship the same God’).

          However, Volf suggests in article 3 that Hawkins’ ‘suspension is about anti-Muslim bigotry, not theology.’ Perhaps this is a fair assessment, I don’t know Wheaton College personally so that might be their reason, given this politically-charged issue in the US right now. But by appealing to political jargon, I think Volf is trying to shift focus away from the issue at heart: do Christians and Muslims worship the same God? In our desire for peace, harmony, and unity, our emotions can blind us from seeing clearly what the actual issue is. Let’s not change the narrative, and stick to the matter. Wheaton College should be given time to investigate, as they report are ongoing. If the voices of Hawkins and Volf matter, shouldn’t we respect Wheaton College’s voice as well? And if they need time (and are responsible in how they use it), let’s not be bigoted by calling them bigots.

I would like to note that both Volf and Hawkins are scholars, and I’m not. I don’t have the space to write everything that I want here (perhaps I will write more in another post), but if I read my Bible carefully, and think about things a little more, I find that Christians and Muslims don’t really worship the same God. This distinction might seem undiplomatic, but if both belief systems want to hold onto their identities, they (in this case specifically, Wheaton College) has to make a stand. I think it is better to be slandered for standing up for truth, rather than to be accepted for giving up on truth. These are the two cents worth of my thoughts on this issue. 

Poem: Deleted photos

Deleted Photos

Is each deleted photo

A balm for wounds?

Or mere brooding

And breeding of bitterness?

With a click, is it release –

A way of letting go?

Or a stirring cesspool

For poisonous vendetta?

I don’t know.

I only know

I can’t control

My fingers

And my heart. 

Poem: This Christmas, I won't turn on the news

         This is a poem I wrote for my university newspaper about Christmas. I don't really like free verse, but I thought I'd try my hand at writing one. It's not a happy poem. But it is a way of reminding myself that all is not well with the world. However, I believe that there is hope, not in humanity to 'make the world a better place,' because that is unrealistic; but in the baby lying in a dirty manger, 2000 years ago. 

This Christmas, I won't tun on the news.

This Christmas,

I won’t turn on the news.

Dad doesn’t like it.

I like the other TV shows.

People always talk about love and peace.

They say as long as we are happy,

The world is happy. :)

Happiness is about giving –

I’m so excited for presents!

Perhaps Uncle Dave will get me that toy gun –

The big ones I always see on the news.

But this Christmas,

I won’t turn on the news.

Mom doesn’t like it too. :/

Big brother isn’t here yet.

We moved here a few months ago.

We came with lots of other families.

A lot of babies were crying,

But now it’s quiet here.

Big brother missed the boat.

I hope the boat is repaired soon.

Before Christmas Day, I pray:

“Dear God, please help me sleep tonight.”

Then close my eyes, and shut my ears,

Against the dying day.

Wing Chun - A Gospel Analogy

Ever since I watched Ip Man, I’ve always had a desire to learn Wing Chun. And now at university, I have a chance to pick it up. The experience thus far has been excellent. There is a nice small community and we have a coach who believes in serious fun. I enjoy the fact that our coach is very concerned with applicability, and he’s realistic in saying that if someone threatens us on the street, running should be our first instinct.

Anyway, from my understanding, there are three basic (weaponless) forms in Wing Chun. So far every week, we start our training session with basic drills: opening stance, forward stance, basic punching, stepping, turning, etc. I’m fine with doing these drills because I’m a neophyte, but I wonder at how even experienced students go through these drills with us. I guess our coach explains why we do the same drills every time we go through the basics, but it’s only recently that I’ve begun to understand why.

He says that although some other martial arts teach different techniques – whereby you learn a particular technique, then move on to another, or something like that – in Wing Chun, everything starts from the basic movements, or forms, and everything else is merely extending, or applying those forms to different situations. That means, when engaging an opponent, a Wing Chun practitioner merely employs the basic forms he’s learnt in response to the situation, or attack.

This reminded me of the role of the gospel for the Christian. But first, a question: when challenging and encouraging Christians to grow in godliness and to fight sin, do we assume they know the gospel, and tell them the ‘top ten tips for battling lust’? I think we are tempted to immediately appeal to do’s and don’ts when it comes to Christian living, focusing on certain ‘techniques’ on battling sin. But what learning Wing Chun has taught me is that before I can fight sin and grow in godliness, I need to be so steeped in, so familiar with, and so disciplined by, the gospel. Why do we in Wing Chun go through the basics every time we train? Because it’s not natural, and we want to be so in tuned with the various moves that there is no easy way but hard work and constant practice. If this applies to something like Wing Chun, I think it should apply to the Christian life. Why do we assume that people ‘already know the gospel,’ or that ‘the gospel alone isn’t enough’? Certainly we are not saying that we just say the same things and people will ‘automatically’ know how to act. But the gospel has to be our starting point every time.

I think that Christian messages or talks that make moral injunctions without any reminder of the gospel is questionable - for how is that message different from moralism? And any message that talks about grace without a challenge to pursue holiness, I find suspicious – for how is that message different from antinomianism? Besides learning some bits of Wing Chun, from these training sessions I’ve observed a few things that might be helpful analogies when thinking about the Christian life.

Firstly, we need to constantly remind ourselves about the gospel, not in way that becomes mundane, but in a way that we are self-critical and self-evaluative. In Wing Chun, as we are doing our basic exercises, we are constantly checking to see if we are following the correct form. This is important because if we don’t lay a foundation, and don’t strengthen it, sooner or later, we’ll just be waving our hands in the air and look silly. If I don’t want to practice the basics, it’s as good as saying I don’t want to learn Wing Chun. Similarly, if we don’t constantly remember the gospel, there is the danger of losing the ultimate source of power for the Christian life.  

Secondly, we never mature from the gospel. I think there is a tendency to think that mature Christians understand grace and all that stuff, so we only tell non-Christians or new believers that; and once they’ve understood it, we move on to the more important stuff like dealing with sin, prayer, or finding God’s will. I think that that is a fallacy which has to be corrected. It is striking that in 1 Corinthians, a letter where Paul deals with lots of issues in the church, he says in the opening verses of chapter 15 “Now I would remind you, brothers, of the gospel I preached to you” (v1); also “for I delivered to you as of first importance what I also received: that Christ died for our sins … was buried … was raised … in accordance with the Scriptures” (v3-4). Have we forgotten that the gospel is central to Christianity?

          In Wing Chun, we are reminded that the basic forms are absolutely crucial - if we want to be able to apply it to real life situations - by repeatedly practising it. I think in Christianity, we need to be reminded that the good news of Jesus’ death and resurrection is foundational - if we are to live as Christians in this world - by repeatedly reminding ourselves and others these truths. 

Thomas More's Utopia - serious joke?

While reading in preparation to write an essay on Thomas More’s Utopia (ISBN: 0521403189) (which is the ‘father’ of subsequent utopian works), I stumbled across a few interesting points. But firstly, anyone interested in modern utopian (or dystopian) literature should read More. I would also like to note that I regard Utopia as a serious work, although many people don’t. Some scholars argue that the unwillingness to accept More’s work in its entirety (there are some ‘acceptable’ bits that gets discussed and praised; and there are ‘unacceptable’ bits that are dismissed and ignored) results from paying too much attention to what we as modern readers want to read or don’t want to read. So for this reflection, I stand on the side that takes all of Utopia seriously, even the satiric parts.

But I wanted to briefly comment on 3 things: 1) Utopian military foreign policy; 2) it’s depiction of human nature; 3) is the Utopia described in the book desirable?

I’ll list down a few aspects of Utopian military foreign policy. Firstly, ‘they utterly despise war as an activity fit only for beasts’ (p.201) yet they go to war for ‘good’ reasons: to protect their own land, to drive invading armies from the territories of their friends, or to liberate an oppressed people, in the name of compassion and humanity, from tyranny and servitude’ (p.201-3). I think this sounds fair, but later we hear about some of their practices that might make us squeamish. For example, ‘they war not only to protect their friends from present danger, but sometimes to repay and avenge previous injuries,’ and the example of a war over ‘a wrong (as they saw it)’ – this sounds suspicious to me – follows (p.2013). When war is declared, they also send spies to incite rebellion against the current enemy ruler and offer rewards for assassinations of high-profile enemy targets, among other things. They also hire mercenaries (especially from a people group called the Zapoletes) and basically put them on the front lines and are unaffected by the implicit genocide they are committing. I think we are right to feel disgusted about these military policies, but I wonder whether the Western world needs to rethink theirs as well. Just today Prime Minister David Cameron made his case to MPs for UK airstrikes against IS in Syria. Scholars have suggested the imperialistic slant in the Utopians’ militaristic practices, and I think there are corollaries between them and that proposed by Cameron.

Secondly, its depiction of human nature is bleak. The character More in the book offers a stinging reason why things really aren’t getting better (despite we wanting it to be so): ‘For it is impossible to make everything good unless men are good, and that I don’t expect to see for quite a few years yet’ (p.97). We’ve waited for about 500 years and Jacob Needleman seems to concur with More in his book ‘Why Can’t We Be Good?’ I think the title speaks for itself. So More in the book proposes institutional structures as a means by which human happiness or flourishing can be achieved. Using human reason – that faculty so celebrated by the Enlightenment that it became the god of the modern age – More conducted a best-commonwealth exercise which probably surpasses Plato and Aristotle in numerous ways. And yet, his conclusion is not positive as there are problems aplenty in Utopian society that modern readers will be terribly uncomfortable with. In this exercise, More shows the limits of rationality in achieving ultimate human happiness.

          This leads to my final question of desirability. I was in a tutorial a few weeks ago and when our tutor asked us what we thought of the book, 6 of 8 students said they couldn’t connect with the book and they found many of the Utopian governing principles distasteful, perhaps verging on outrageous according to modern standards of ‘human rights.’ But I found the book relevant in that 500 years after its publication, the book still critiques a predominantly capitalist society that exhibits all the vices More talks about in his book. One of the differences is that these have now somehow become acceptable norms. Realistically, Utopia cannot be achieved. No amount of technology or self-help can overcome the innate problem within us – that which Christians call rebellion against our Maker. At our core, we aren’t good people, and we know that, that’s why we have laws. We know that left to our own devices, we will tend towards harm instead of good.

          So what options do we have? As a Christian, this reminds me not to desire a ‘heaven on earth,’ not to desire a ‘Christian’ nation. Because Jesus will return, and he will restructure society totally - all evil will be wiped out and the new world that he ushers in will be perfect in every way. So what shall I say as I sit reading Utopia and seeing the mess that we’ve made the world into? Only this: ‘Come, Lord Jesus!’ (Rev. 22:20b). 

Poem: I asked God in a tiny voice

       I wrote this poem about not knowing why I am facing the things that I am facing. And I needed a space to articulate. 

I asked God in a tiny voice

I asked God

In a tiny voice:

Why do I feel alone?

I asked Him

In a soft whisper:  

Why do I feel afraid?

I asked God:

If You could just –

Just show me!

So I can understand…

Christ replied

In a still small voice

Swept in from Calvary:

Hush, my child.

I hear, I feel, I know.

Poetry as Perceiving

          I was in a seminar and we were reading Elizabeth Bishop’s “The Fish.” It is a great poem about perceiving, about the difficulty of knowing something accurately and poetically. In this sense, we could say that it captures the poetic angst that language fails to completely describe a scene; and to extend it, emotions. I have realised that when I read poetry, I carry a lot of baggage, I want it to teach me something: maybe about grappling with life, or how poets deal with life – because I think that they are oftentimes the most acute observers of it; maybe about social ills, how poets challenge – or even promote – the ‘ideologies’ we are enslaved to. I want it to be didactic, similar to how liberal humanists approached literature.

          Yet going through this seminar, I’ve realised that my mind needs to be trained to see, not recognise. But perhaps more than see, I need to perceive. I need to be sensitive to sound, to syntax, to diction and the ways words on a page relate to one another. I think poetry is poetry because it is unfamiliar, there is an element of ‘enstrangement’ (to borrow from Shklovsky) so that we are led ‘to a knowledge of a thing through the organ of sight instead of recognition’ (Art as Device).

          However, to be attentive to words is, I think, at the same time to be aware of its inadequacy to fully convey meaning. Bishop’s poem certainly does suggest that. It is a picture of perception, showing us its difficulties but also the ‘rainbow’ moments when we finally see. I think that kind of epiphany is akin to the ‘road to Emmaus’ seen where after Jesus shows how all Scripture points and is fulfilled in him, Cleopas and his friend said to each other, “Did not our hearts burn within us while he talked to us on the road, while he opened to us the Scriptures?” (Luke 24:32).

          Sadly, I think those moments are hard to come by, because we are swamped with the automatising and desensitising effects of the media empire. We as people don’t see anymore, because everything happens so quickly, there is no time to stop and stare and be amazed – amazed at how beautiful and ugly this world we live in is. Words and images do not make us think anymore, because to stop is to be left behind.

          So then I should be more attentive to words, and because words do not exist in a vacuum, to the people who say them or write them. Perhaps this will grant me a greater awareness of what others are thinking and feeling. Because I believe reading poetry is a process of training the mind’s eyes to see rather than recognise, then I hope I will be trained to see people rather than recognise them.

          There is probably an unspoken criterion that good poetry has to meet: universality. And on Calvary, the living Word who became flesh perceived human existence in all its glory and horror; he is both the particular and the universal. He is the light that gives people the ability to perceive. In other words, He is the perfect poetry. 

Poem: There is a Terror - Greater

I wrote a poem in response to the news of the Paris terror attacks, knowing that Paris gets coverage because it is an ‘important Western city.’

I didn’t spend much time on it and it’s not a good poem, and I must admit that reading Emily Dickinson has caused me to uses lots of dashes and to capitalise certain nouns. As I was writing, I realised that these two elements did help me in my attempt to articulate my thoughts. And I’m beginning to understand Dickinson a bit better.

But anyway, here’s what I wrote:

There is a Terror - Greater

There is a Terror – greater

Than the carnage in Syria, Beirut or Paris.

It’ll be a day of reckoning

Where none pleads innocence –

For we all like sheep have gone astray.

There is a Comfort – greater

Than the hashtags and profile picture changes can provide.

It’s news that justice will – nay – has been served

On all the evil of this world –

Meted out on a perfect man.

Let’s pray for Syria, Beirut and Paris –

And for all the suffering there is.

But will our hands and feet be equally as earnest

To bring murderers – of which we all are - 

The good news of Tree and Tomb. 

Thinking of Home

         After studying away from home for the past 3 years, I have realised that I find it extremely difficult to focus on my duties and responsibilities when I head back to my accommodation at the end of a day.

          I never was really lost when I was in primary or secondary school. I would come home and know what had to be done. Sure there was structure and routine, but those existed in a familial context; and it has taken me 3 years living away from home to realise that there are missing elements when a young bird leaves its nest.

          Sure there is freedom, yet there is also a sense of restlessness. I believe it is easy to overcome the uneasiness of leaving home by indulging in activities that occupy our time, mind and energy, yet these lines from George Herbert’s poem ‘The Pulley’

                   When God at first made man,

Having a glass of blessings standing by;

Let us (said he) pour on him all we can:

Let the world’s riches, which dispersed lie,

                   Contract into a span.

So strength first made a way;

Then beauty flowed, then wisdom, honour, pleasure:

When almost all was out, God made a stay,

          Rest in the bottom lay.  

          For me, this sense of restlessness is perhaps due to a lost sense of real community. I know I am much more hardworking when I am out of my current rented house, but when I am inside my room, I often am distracted.

          I don’t believe there is a quick fix to this issue. Perhaps I could be more meticulous when I am planning my timetable, or perhaps I should be more disciplined in implementing my proposed plan for when I get back. Yet, I think there is a deeper issue that I have to resolve. Should I seek a permanent sense of rest and security on this earth? Should I seek to establish a comfortable hearth and home? I certainly think that the answer is ‘no’ even if I want it to be in the affirmative.

          The Apostle Peter calls Christians exiles (1 Peter 1:1; 1:17), and he wants us to have a future-focused framework. He says ‘therefore, preparing your minds for action, and being sober-minded, set your hope fully on the grace that will be brought to you at the revelation of Jesus Christ’ (1:13).

So I am living today waiting for the time when Jesus returns to me home. If today, or tomorrow, or the day after, I feel rootless, like a fleeing refugee, I have to remind myself that this shouldn’t be unusual. Instead, I should relish in the hope that one day, those memories I have of my childhood spent with family will be perfected when my Saviour and my King returns to take me and my Christian brothers and sisters home. There, we will find perfect rest.  

Poem: Once upon a Time

I wrote a poem for my school newspaper. Not sure if the form works, but I hope I achieved the effect I was aiming for. Feedback would be much appreciated. So here it goes:

Once Upon A Time

I watched my star of innocence atop

My roof go down, like brash Phaeton whose

Discontentment of his lot on earth, sought

To let the threads that held him earthbound loose.

No great amount of truth-seeking can rend

The veil that hides the truth that in man dwell

Such greed and pride and selfishness that bent -

A perfect world into a perfect hell.

A quick peek, a furtive peep – Terror yields.

Now I know not to which tale I make my plea:

That which, truth concealed or that which it reveals

This then my despairing confession be:

I pine for ‘once upon a time’ – that myth

Before the painted veil called life was lift. 

Poem: The House

I thought I'd share this poem I recently wrote. It's not great, but perhaps it will still be heard. 

The House

Let the doors be shut

And bar the windows too.

Lock the gates

That life may not tread

On its ground now bitterly shedding

The footprints of ebbing memories.

For this house is no more,

Its front an empty shell.

Its heart for bless’d Utopia has depart

A place of perfection surpassing all

The echoes of glories these four walls

With scarce, faint, dim, and weak vibes did impart.

The days progressed to years on end,

Till thoughts of hearth to forlorn pits descend;

Now warmth has left the double doors,

And silent whispers kiss the dusty floors.

For this house is no more,

Its front an empty shell.

Demons

I was listening to Imagine Dragons’ song ‘Demons’ and the lyrics struck me as being very true. The chorus goes

                    When you feel my heat

                    Look into my eyes

                    It’s where my demons hide

                    It’s where my demons hide

                    Don’t get too close

                    It’s dark inside

                    It’s where my demons hide

                    It’s where my demons hide

I think it is true that naturally we are very protective about who we really are. We never really consciously reveal our true selves to other people; because we know that it’s ugly and it’s messy and we are afraid that others cannot accept us for who we are. I know that’s very true of me.

But I think what is hardest for me to do is to let the people we are closest to see who we really are. Perhaps it’s because I don’t yet know if they will accept or reject me. I don’t want to disappoint, but I am often a disappointment to myself. I think it’s really tough trying to figure out the best way to be real to other people.

So yeah, there are demons that I hide, afraid of revealing them to the world. But often they haunt me; when I am alone, or when tired, when I’m faced with pressure or disappointment. This sounds bleak, but yes, I do think life is such – we often create illusions and consider them our reality; and we trick ourselves to believe in the stories we write: getting a good career, being a kind person, taking care of the planet – delusions really to feed the human ego.

But I’ve found one story that I think makes sense. It’s the story of the Bible – not the stories we find in the Bible - but how the whole Bible depicts and describes reality: that there are demons hiding in us, and that God Himself has come to deal with that problem through Jesus’ death on the cross and resurrection 3 days later. Colossians 2: 13-15 goes

And you, who were dead in your trespasses and the uncircumcision of your flesh, God made alive together with him, having forgiven us all our trespasses, by cancelling the record of debt that stood against us with its legal demands. This he sat aside, nailing it to the cross. He disarmed the rulers and authorities and put them to open shame, by triumphing over them in him.

So my demons have been dealt with, they have been defeated and forgiven; and I am no longer a slave to them, though I am still prone to heed their seductive calls. But when that happens, I guess I need to remember that what’s real is not the show I put on, but that I have been saved from my demons, and I no longer need to hide them – at least not from my Saviour.

But not hiding them from the world? I know I’ll still struggle to do that. Will people accept me when they see those defeated demons desperately try to regain a position they will never again attain? Maybe not. But that’s alright. I am reminded of a hymn I really like that says

                    When Satan tempts me to despair,

                    And tells me of the guilt within;

                    Upward I look and see Him there,

                    Who made an end of all my sin.

So even if everyone in the world despises me; even if those I hold dear rejects me, I know that Him who created me, and in whom I live and move and have my being, will not. 

Poem #5 Perspective on Might - John Poch: The Enigma of Modern Poetry

Superior to the philosopher of God's absence,
the avalanche is patient above those pines
it might sublimely clean its teeth with.
At the lip of the highest peak snow accumulates
on a dead man's moustache like a dead man's moustache.
Repetition isn't funny to the dead man who never
made it to that bar in Champagne for champagne
or to the avalanche whose time has almost come.
We might consider how scale means to climb
or to remove the scales from a dead creature
with this precious, precise violence we call a knife.
A philosopher needs a sharp knife to cut the cord
of pride hanging her like a Christmas ornament
from her parachute caught in the trees of the supernatural.
After all, God is present as that last snowflake settling
on the lip, the tickle which has come a long way
to now. From afar it looks so soft. Even the knife.

          Being someone who prefers traditional formal poetry, I have often asked myself how anyone can appreciate modern poems written in ‘free verse.’ Perhaps the biggest struggle I have with appreciating these kinds of poems is that I don’t know where to start in my analysis of it. I am beginning to suspect that I need another way of understanding free verse. Someone noted that lesser examples of free verse reads like chopped-up prose, and I guess that my apprehension towards this genre is partly due to the (apparent?) lack of structure and form in the poetry.

          But I am hoping to start learning how to read and enjoy free verse, otherwise I will only be outdated, so I thought that this poem would be a nice one to share. I cannot say I fully understand what the persona is saying. It does however suggest that ‘the philosopher of God’s absence’ should be a little more humble, because she is hung ‘like a Christmas ornament’ by her pride. The image of being ‘her parachute caught in the trees of the supernatural’ evokes a kind of helplessness and weakness. It is after all trees of the supernatural, and I am assuming that philosophers generally do not believe in the supernatural. 

          If I read the first 3 lines and the final 3 lines as frames or the bookends of the poem, then structurally the poem has a progression from God’s absence (marked by the philosopher’s presence) to God’s presence. Furthermore, the choice of adjectives in the final 3 lines bring to mind smallness, for example ‘snowflake,’ ‘tickle’ and ‘soft’. I think these words are used so that the irony of circumstances becomes all the more striking. ‘The avalanche whose time has almost come’ is described meekly to show how one should adopt a proper perspective on might. This is because, ‘from afar it looks so soft. Even the knife,’ but both in reality are much more superior than the ‘philosopher of God’s absence.’ 

Book #6 In The Beginning - Henri Blocher

         I’ve been particularly interested in the opening chapters of Genesis, because there is so much contention about it; and as Blocher puts it ‘the beginning unlocks the principle, the constitution reveals the nature. The human race quite rightly feels that it cannot find its bearings for life today without having light shed on its origins’ (p. 15). This book (ISBN: 9780851113210) is an attempt to examine carefully the first few chapters of the book of Genesis. I think Blocher has done a fine job in highlighting certain aspects of the texts and he comes to some good conclusions of which I will attempt to share a few.

          Firstly, the creation accounts shouldn’t be read literally. Chapters 1 and 2 argue for an appreciation of the literary genre of the chapters and Blocher adopts the ‘historico-artistic’ interpretation of the week of creation (p. 49). The text doesn’t warrant a literal reading, but this doesn’t mean we are compromising to the pressures of science. The author of the creation accounts had a message to share, and that was certainly not to establish scientific facts. Furthermore, Blocher suggests that a ‘form-filling’ understanding of the creation week is probably the most faithful interpretation of the stories. Also, the emphasis of the author is in the orderliness and aesthetic goodness of God’s creation.

          Secondly, what is traditionally called ‘the Fall’ is perhaps better understood as ‘the breaking of the covenant.’ It does not revolutionise our understanding of Genesis 3. But it does help us to be aware that no one approaches the Biblical text without presuppositions. Blocher argues that this event is historical, but the Biblical author has no qualms in using figurative (or symbolic) language in his narration. We need not take ‘historical’ to mean ‘literal.’ Nevertheless, he argues that we must affirm that there was indeed a historical man called Adam (although the Hebrew wordplay allows the convincing argument that the chapter describes the human condition, rather than explain its origins). This warrant is found in the New Testament treatment of Adam, especially in Paul’s writing. Thus, Genesis 3 does try to narrate how sin originated in the world. Blocher argues that God is not the creator of evil, but doesn’t necessarily locate its origin. Scholars like Westermann and Moberly would argue that the reticence of the text hints that the question of origin is probably one we should avoid. Nevertheless, Blocher interprets the snake as a symbol of Satan, citing other Biblical usages as the warrant for such a reading.

          Thirdly, Blocher does argue that Genesis 3:15 is the ‘protoevangelium’ – in other words, the prototype of the Gospel message. He places emphasis on the curse as being a long and extended warfare that ultimately ends in the triumph of the woman’s offspring over the snake’s offspring. This is probably the safe Evangelical understanding of the curse. Although many scholars do argue that this reading is difficult to locate within the context, Blocher draws from other parts of Scripture to support his assertion. For Blocher, and many Evangelicals, the punishments God pronounces on Adam, Eve and the snake are not merely bad news. There is also good news, for instance when God clothes Adam and Eve with garments of skins.

Evangelicals find the ultimate fulfilment of God’s grace and mercy - where sin abounded as evinced in the chapters following Genesis 3 – in the death and resurrection of Jesus Christ. It is not outrageous for one to come to this conclusion and I dearly hold onto this understanding of the opening chapters of Genesis although my mind is torn between this interpretation and the very convincing arguments of Biblical (and less traditionally-Evangelical) scholars. It sometimes does seem like a battle between faith and the intellect. I’m attempting to reconcile this dichotomy within myself but sometimes end up more confused.

The opening chapters of Genesis is full of literary and theological riches, but if I’m not careful, I might be swimming in waters too deep. Perhaps this is why I often hear about Christians losing their faith after being exposed to academic theology. In churches and families, we certainly need a more robust theology that will help Christians cope (for overcoming is really difficult) with the challenges to our understanding of Scripture that the outside world offer. I have learnt from reading Blocher’s book a lot about God’s character; but I have also learnt that a simplistic faith, that ignores the importance of grappling with the Biblical text does more harm than good. I’d rather be marvelling at the Bible than be illusorily (like Adam and Eve) thinking that I’ve got the important things about the Bible and life sorted out. 

Poem #4 Bitter-sweet - George Herbert

          Ah my dear angry Lord,

          Since thou dost love, yet strike;

          Cast down, yet help afford;

          Sure I will do the like.

          I will complain, yet praise;

          I will bewail, approve:

          And all my sour-sweet days

          I will lament, and love.

Living as a Christian is difficult because there is suffering when we serve, regardless of its shape or size. And if we are honest, I do not think most people enjoy pain. True, if we look past the temporality of anguish, disappointment and loneliness, there is a reason, there is the hope of the resurrection where everything will be made right. However, it sometimes seems so far away. And when I consider the sins I struggle with daily; when I consider the lack of passion in my evangelism, a little corner of my heart cries in despair – wanting all this to end – because the call to give my life in service to the Gospel and to others is a burden greater than I can bear.

          Yet, maybe that is the plot set out for me: that I do not find belonging nor acceptance; that I silently plough fields, not staying long enough to see the harvest before I have to move on. Well, if that is my lot, so be it then. It is not an inconsistency in God’s character to assign me this road. Herbert sustains a tension between ease and discomfort throughout the poem; in almost every line there is a clash seemingly opposite actions or characteristics. So I do pray that like the persona in Herbert’s poem, ‘I will lament, and love’ ‘all my sour-sweet days.’

           Though the outside world will not hear the silent sobs of disheartened hearts, our God listens; and though he strikes, He loves and reveals that love through the death of His Son on a wooden Cross. 

FOMO?

         When I see some of the activities my friends (or acquaintances) are involved in, especially those concerning social issues, I am often confronted with a sense of FOMO (fear of missing out). I am unsure whether this is a genuine sense of wanting to be involved in social work or just that doing these kinds of activities can be considered glamorous. I know my heart and I do not think selfishly desiring to serve others is beyond its depravity.

          For instance, the other big church (in terms of size and activities) in Durham is conducting a ‘June Project’ where students who have finished their exams are engaged in lots of communal work; whereas in the church I am attending, we only have a ‘Bible Week’ organised where we look at how the Bible fits together. Although I acknowledge that the choice between doing social work and studying the Bible is a false dichotomy, I cannot help but feel that by not engaging in active work that makes a visible difference, I might not be sufficiently engaging with the world.

          Sometimes I wonder if I have become too obsessed with studying the Bible and getting the ‘right’ interpretation that I unconsciously distance myself from the world. This is something I urgently need to think about.

          This article (http://www.desiringgod.org/articles/four-ways-to-fight-the-fear-of-missing-out) has been somewhat helpful although it does not address my particular fear, but it is encouraging to be reminded that satisfaction and a sense of fulfilment should not come from personal achievement in whatever form. 

Book #5 Oedipus Rex

          After a gap of 3 months, I have finally run out of excuses to put off updating this blog, although not many people read it. I guess the practice of thinking and then formulating them into structured sentences is still a helpful exercise to keep one’s mind alert and organised – otherwise my brain becomes a jumbled nexus of ideas with no beginning or end.

          In light of this needing one’s mind to be clear and able to process and organise information, I thought that I could write about a recent book I read and studied for my exams – Sophocles’ Oedipus Rex (ISBN: 9780140444254). The play is based on the mythic tradition of Oedipus, who is prophesied to kill his father and commit incest with his mother. The play seems a straightforward process of self-revelation whereby Oedipus gradually finds out his origins, thus confirming that he has indeed fulfilled the prophecy of the Oracle at Delphi. I have to say that in writing this, I am assuming a basic understanding of the Oedipus myth.

          However, some scholars have suggested that in Sophocles’ treatment of the myth, we cannot take it for granted that he is merely adhering to the established facts of the myth, after all, there are other contemporary playwrights who change certain details of the story. An example would be Frederick Ahl’s thesis (ISBN: 9780801425585). He suggests that in fact, Oedipus is misled into believing that he has indeed fulfilled the prophecy when there is a glaring lack of substantial evidence to support his self-accusation. The warrant for such an unconventional reading is that these scholars have the mythic tradition in mind, but do not let that tradition override the actual play. Thus, in Ahl’s analysis, he considers the original Greek and shows that Sophocles has expertly used wordplays and ambiguities of speech to dramatise a story of Oedipus’ self-deception. I cannot go into further details about Ahl’s thesis, but it is quite convincing, at least for me. What I want to consider are some thoughts that reading Ahl’s argument and rereading the play have struck me.

  

          Firstly, speech is power. The ability to manipulate language and people’s emotions with the words we say give an individual so much power and authority over others who are less articulate. If we consider Oedipus as a play of language where characters are engaged in a contest of speech, then we begin to grasp the significance of Oedipus’ fall from greatness. But why do we say speech is power? It is because characters in the play have successfully (whether intentionally or otherwise) given Oedipus wrong information or vague information; and it is Oedipus’ inability to distinguish between trustworthy and untrustworthy sources that leads him to misinterpret facts.

          This leads to the issue of asking questions. I know it might seem trivial but I have begun to see how asking the right questions is crucial if we want to make right judgments. An example within the play is the question of the number of King Laius’ murderers (King Laius’ is the supposed father of Oedipus). Reports say that a gang of people killed the king and his entourage. But Oedipus insists that he killed an old man and all of the members of his party, and Oedipus acknowledges that this is probably the most crucial information that will confirm either his innocence or his guilt. However, when he meets with the supposed survivor of that incident, he fails to ask this most important question. He was distracted by the question of his birth and origins that he has forgotten the real issues at stake. This is another reason why we can affirm that Oedipus is wholly responsible for his tragedy – his inability to keep his head in a time of crisis.

          Thirdly and finally, be careful when speaking to masters of rhetoric. In our modern society, they would be the lawyers, the politicians and maybe the salesman. If speech is power and that the ability to ask right questions is a sign of discernment, then we must be careful when encountering people who derive their power and authority from the words they say, or more importantly, words they do not say. Silence and the lack of reliable information led to Oedipus’ misrepresentation of reality, let us not follow in his footsteps.

          The tragedy of Oedipus is then his blindness – his inability to distinguish truth from half-truth. The catharsis of the play is not Freud’s suggestion that he has fulfilled the Oedipal complex all of us dream about, but that we need to see what Oedipus fails to see. If we are unable to see past the web of lies Oedipus surrounds himself with, his tragedy becomes ours.

          Nevertheless, thankfully, God has revealed Himself to us in the form of His Son and He has spoken definitively that we are not left with half-truths about reality (Hebrews 1:1-3). Let us then be people who ask the right questions and be not swayed by false rhetoric.