Improbability...
Okay, sorry about the political rant yesterday. I hate politics. I hate talking about politics. Every now and then, though, I read something that bothers me...and I have to vent. So now that's out of the way, maybe I won't do that again for a while.
...
Anyway, I was driving down Modaus Road the other day staring at the old farm equipment that sits in a cotton field (at least, I think it's a cotton field), and I suddenly had a weird thought...partly motivated out of the irony that a city-boy like me now lives in a town that has things like farm equipment and partly because I just think about weird stuff when I drive.
My weird thought was this: Why am I here? Not the same old question with emphasis on the why, but with emphasis on the here. And I don't just mean Decatur. I mean...why am I here...in the body of a 34-year-old white male in Alabama in America.
Bear with me...it's just curiosity...but I wonder sometimes why God elected to stick my soul into the body of the baby of two white parents from Atlanta in the year 1971 in the United States. Why I think about this is just a weird curiosity that asks questions like: What if God had put me in, say, a life of a child with Hindu parents in India in 1831. Or as the daughter of an American Indian in 1745. Or the son of a Buddhist in Tibet in 1430 (or whatever Tibet was called back then)?
I was born healthy. Early, but healthy. I've lived - so far - a healthy life. Though we never had a lot of money, we never struggled financially in any serious way. Overall, a pretty well-functioning family. Sure, we had hiccups in that function over the years (some big ones), but nothing worthy of Jerry Springer or even Dear Abby.
So...why?
I'm not much on predestination or anything like that. But I do wonder what I would believe in today had I been born into different circumstances. I must admit, it's easy to call myself a Christ-follower. Of course it's easy...I grew up with Christian parents, in a largely Christian nation, in the Bible belt.
But what if I hadn't? Maybe I'd be a Buddhist monk right now sitting in a Temple on top of a snow-covered mountain. Or maybe I'd be a die-hard atheist in New York City. Or a severely mentally-retarded person unable to comprehend lofty stuff like religious principles.
Had I been born in different circumstances, would I be blogging about Christ right now? Or Mohammed?
What if?
I guess my point is...to really know why I believe in the things I believe in. Do I believe because it was simply handed down to me? Or do I believe because I really and truly feel convicted about the truth of what I believe? Those are two different reasons. One is choice. One is mindless action.
I guess all of us need to examine why we believe the things we believe. Either make it our own or reject it, but do anything but follow blindly. It's something to keep in mind, also, as we seek to dialogue about beliefs, too. Few things are more frustrating than conversing with someone who adamantly sticks to some belief...and it's obvious they only believe it so adamantly because they've never even questioned the validity of it.
Over the years, I've looked at my beliefs...my faith. I've questioned it. I've even sought to gain an understanding of other religions and philosophical stances. I've even stood ground on a hybrid belief of Christian principles and agnosticism back in my very early college days (when I was first exposed to different ideals from my own). But I've always come back full circle to believing in the Christ. To seeking to imitate him. To believing that the things he said were true. To believing that He can somehow save me. And I've done this after scrutinizing (and separating) all the crap that Christians have piled onto this person Jesus over the years.
...
More than this. It's not just the sum of ideals I've grown up with and investigated. It's not just the intellectual pursuit. I think that's part of it, but maybe just a beginning.
Lately, I read a writer who voiced a clever understanding of religious intellectualism. He said something like..."I know Christians who can prove God exists. I know others who can prove God doesn't exist. But the dialogue is not about God anymore, anyway. It's about which person is smarter than the other." God is lost in the 'proofs.' It's about what you can prove...what evidence there is. But, as this writer says, "What can any of us really know (according to our 'intellect'), anyway?"
In the end, God is real to me because I know him. Not as a the sort of nut who also believes in Santa Claus or the Easter Bunny. I'm not trying to prove to anyone reading this that He (or the Tooth Fairy) exists, either. But I have to say, I've met God. I didn't shake hands with him. Nor did he tell me which stocks to invest in. I couldn't tell you if God is a man or a woman...or if he has blonde hair or brown...or if he's a Tennessee Titans fan or not.
But I can tell you that this great, un-name-able God has done some amazing things in my life. I've experienced him, though I can't prove him absolutely.
For me, that's enough. And I can only hope that other people can find that experience for themselves.
...
Anyway, I was driving down Modaus Road the other day staring at the old farm equipment that sits in a cotton field (at least, I think it's a cotton field), and I suddenly had a weird thought...partly motivated out of the irony that a city-boy like me now lives in a town that has things like farm equipment and partly because I just think about weird stuff when I drive.
My weird thought was this: Why am I here? Not the same old question with emphasis on the why, but with emphasis on the here. And I don't just mean Decatur. I mean...why am I here...in the body of a 34-year-old white male in Alabama in America.
Bear with me...it's just curiosity...but I wonder sometimes why God elected to stick my soul into the body of the baby of two white parents from Atlanta in the year 1971 in the United States. Why I think about this is just a weird curiosity that asks questions like: What if God had put me in, say, a life of a child with Hindu parents in India in 1831. Or as the daughter of an American Indian in 1745. Or the son of a Buddhist in Tibet in 1430 (or whatever Tibet was called back then)?
I was born healthy. Early, but healthy. I've lived - so far - a healthy life. Though we never had a lot of money, we never struggled financially in any serious way. Overall, a pretty well-functioning family. Sure, we had hiccups in that function over the years (some big ones), but nothing worthy of Jerry Springer or even Dear Abby.
So...why?
I'm not much on predestination or anything like that. But I do wonder what I would believe in today had I been born into different circumstances. I must admit, it's easy to call myself a Christ-follower. Of course it's easy...I grew up with Christian parents, in a largely Christian nation, in the Bible belt.
But what if I hadn't? Maybe I'd be a Buddhist monk right now sitting in a Temple on top of a snow-covered mountain. Or maybe I'd be a die-hard atheist in New York City. Or a severely mentally-retarded person unable to comprehend lofty stuff like religious principles.
Had I been born in different circumstances, would I be blogging about Christ right now? Or Mohammed?
What if?
I guess my point is...to really know why I believe in the things I believe in. Do I believe because it was simply handed down to me? Or do I believe because I really and truly feel convicted about the truth of what I believe? Those are two different reasons. One is choice. One is mindless action.
I guess all of us need to examine why we believe the things we believe. Either make it our own or reject it, but do anything but follow blindly. It's something to keep in mind, also, as we seek to dialogue about beliefs, too. Few things are more frustrating than conversing with someone who adamantly sticks to some belief...and it's obvious they only believe it so adamantly because they've never even questioned the validity of it.
Over the years, I've looked at my beliefs...my faith. I've questioned it. I've even sought to gain an understanding of other religions and philosophical stances. I've even stood ground on a hybrid belief of Christian principles and agnosticism back in my very early college days (when I was first exposed to different ideals from my own). But I've always come back full circle to believing in the Christ. To seeking to imitate him. To believing that the things he said were true. To believing that He can somehow save me. And I've done this after scrutinizing (and separating) all the crap that Christians have piled onto this person Jesus over the years.
...
More than this. It's not just the sum of ideals I've grown up with and investigated. It's not just the intellectual pursuit. I think that's part of it, but maybe just a beginning.
Lately, I read a writer who voiced a clever understanding of religious intellectualism. He said something like..."I know Christians who can prove God exists. I know others who can prove God doesn't exist. But the dialogue is not about God anymore, anyway. It's about which person is smarter than the other." God is lost in the 'proofs.' It's about what you can prove...what evidence there is. But, as this writer says, "What can any of us really know (according to our 'intellect'), anyway?"
In the end, God is real to me because I know him. Not as a the sort of nut who also believes in Santa Claus or the Easter Bunny. I'm not trying to prove to anyone reading this that He (or the Tooth Fairy) exists, either. But I have to say, I've met God. I didn't shake hands with him. Nor did he tell me which stocks to invest in. I couldn't tell you if God is a man or a woman...or if he has blonde hair or brown...or if he's a Tennessee Titans fan or not.
But I can tell you that this great, un-name-able God has done some amazing things in my life. I've experienced him, though I can't prove him absolutely.
For me, that's enough. And I can only hope that other people can find that experience for themselves.
1 Comments:
Good thoughts.
I also need to write more on my blog. I have lots of thoughts - I just get too lazy to write them out usually.
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