"Praying Like Monks, Living Like Fools"

It's not often that I post about a book. It's not often that I find a new book that says something new enough -- and true enough -- to shift my perspective. On the recommendation of someone at church, I've been reading Praying Like Monks, Living Like Fools by Tyler Staton. I was skeptical of the book at first: it's definitely not written in the same way as books that I've cherished from, say, C.S. Lewis. The author did not invent the modern editorial trend to structure chapters in a way that verges on click-bait; all the same I was only reading it to follow through on a recommendation received. But now and then I'd come across a gem of insight like this one: 

Everything we interact with in this small, cramped, secular world of our own making, we have the potential of mastering. In fact, we must master it quickly in order to survive -- the most efficient route between home and the office, how to move up the ranks at work, how to eat sushi without looking stupid, how to cut across lanes on our bicycles and live to tell the tale. And if we can't master it, we can always avoid it. I'll just change industries, avoid chopsticks, and take an Uber. 

Prayer can't be mastered. Prayer always means submission. To pray is to willingly put ourselves in the unguarded, exposed position. There is no climb. There is no control. There is no mastery. There is only humility and hope. 

To pray is to risk being naive, to risk believing, to risk playing the fool. To pray is to risk trusting someone who might let you down. To pray is to get our hopes up. And we've learned to avoid that. So we avoid prayer. (p. 14)

It's not a scholarly book. It's a book of experience with insight and perspective. I'm still working my way through. It's turning out to be a book where I re-read certain sections because I want to imprint the insights more clearly in my mind. But some of the insights, such as that one, have been very much worth my consideration. 

Resenting religion -- looking for a path forward

I've made no secret that I attend a 12-step recovery group, and that these groups have some interesting tools for self-examination in the recovery toolbox. In every 12-step recovery group I've heard of, resentments are targeted for spiritual cleanup. There are tools for identifying resentments, taking responsibility for any unfinished work, and resolving them. If someone carries a resentment against someone who was a friend, spouse, employer, relative, or any other circumstance, it is expected for the person in recovery to do the hard work of identifying and resolving it with the help of various tools in the program. This is considered necessary for restoring a full and healthy mental state. And people are encouraged to see that a bad experience with one person (friend, spouse, family, or employer) does not mean that they should distrust all friends, all men or all women, all families, all employers, or even continue carrying the grudge. Over-generalization comes easily to us when we have been put at risk, injured, or even slighted -- especially if we were young at the time, with unformed worldviews and minimal skills for resolving things like that. 

But there are some odd exceptions, and religion seems to be one of them. In religion as in other areas of life, problems come up from the flawed people involved. When it comes to religion, a fair number of people enshrine their resentments as a proud part of their worldview. I am not here discussing people who honestly have philosophical objections; that's a separate question that is not before me today. I am discussing times when people are hurt and angry, have long carried a resentment for something from years ago, and direct that resentment against all people of a certain faith or denomination. The various things experienced years ago -- let's give the benefit of the doubt -- may have been worthy of the anger or fear they inspired, may have been just cause for distrust of the people involved. All that is allowed for, in the general cleanup of resentments -- but still recovery usually comes with the expectation that resentments should be addressed and resolved. In other areas of recovery, it is considered a problem to treasure a hurt so that it can be weaponized, especially against people uninvolved in the original situation. It's an escalation beyond what makes sense, though hurt and anger may not follow rational channels. 

The most intense, adamant atheists I've met on discussion boards tended to have fewer philosophical objections and more anger. And anger doesn't resolve for arguing about it. For an outsider, listening and understanding may help the person who is angry. But it may not. For resolving resentments, the person with the resentment needs to see the resentment as a bad thing and participate willingly in resolving it. So long as the resentment has a valued place in the worldview, I have not identified a path forward. Still, a brief survey of social media comments is enough to convince me: it is important that we try to find that path forward. 

Are we "by nature" sinful and unclean?

I belong to a church body that begins each worship service with confession of sins from those who worship, followed by the proclamation of God's forgiveness from the pastor. We have several different formats for the service, and so our confession of sins may be worded slightly differently from one service to the next. In one version, we say we are "by nature" sinful and unclean. This has been a cause for some discussion among the theologians. 

If we are "by nature" sinful and unclean, there are those who see that as indirectly blaming God as creator or criticizing the work of creation. After all, if we are "by nature" sinful, who created that nature? There is an easy-enough response that our current nature is not as God intended, not as we were originally created. Apart from the grace of God, human nature is prone to sin. 

Human nature was never intended to be apart from the grace of God. The relationship of grace between God and man is established in our existence and was never meant to be broken. God, who is present in all things -- who fills all things in every way -- is absent from our thoughts, from our hearts, from our intentions. That is how we are out of step with nature. That is the lack of grace, and why redemption requires God's presence, "God with us", and God's spirit within us. That is what restores the lack inside us, the cure that meets the root cause of the spiritual illness. 

"Thy will be done" is not always about self-sacrifice

"Thy will be done" is a well-known phrase to Christians. It is part of our regular prayers, including the one Jesus taught us: "Your kingdom come, your will be done on earth as in heaven." The same phrase is also famously, heart-wrenchingly part of Jesus' prayer before his arrest: "Abba, Father, all things are possible for you. Take this cup from me. Yet not what I will, but what you will." And we often interpret it in that light: no matter how costly, we are to trust God's direction. So we think of what God's will may cost us. 

But it is not always shown that way in Scripture. Jesus also speaks of God's will in terms of the connections it creates, the fellowship it builds: 

"Whoever does the will of God is my brother, and sister, and mother." (Mark 3:35)

And so an act of seeking God's will transforms the situation to where Christ is our brother, and finds us as brothers and sisters to each other. Even an orphan and an only child may find themselves part of a large family in that light. Doing God's will brings us into a preview of the kingdom of heaven, as it begins to foreshadow itself on earth in the fellowship of those united in God's will. Which brings us back: "Your kingdom come, your will be done on earth as it is in heaven." 

There are times when we feel alone, seem alone. It is part of the human condition. The will of God changes that. Being aware of that may make us more eager to welcome it. 

Answering those who have lost their faith

I've had a long-standing interest in answering those who have doubts or questions about their faith. My main focuses are generally Jesus' resurrection, the general integrity of the New Testament gospel accounts, and the problem of evil. But today I have in mind a woman I met who had left the faith for a different kind of reason: two leaders in her church, married to each other, were each having affairs on the side. Of course that doesn't have a direct bearing on whether God exists, or whether Jesus loves her. Even the best of us mere mortals has both good and bad mixed together in us.

But that doesn't really let us off the hook. Not many should be teachers; teachers are held to a higher standard. Their failings will affect people in that way. It's a variation of the problem of evil: how can a 'good' institution allow things like that? How can 'good' people do things like that? For some, it's a short step from taking God's forgiveness for granted to becoming hardened sinners. And if those hardened sinners are teachers, other people find it's a short step out the door, especially if their faith is new and fragile.

Church leaders aren't the only ones in responsible positions. I know people who were turned away from their faith by their parents' mistreatment or hypocrisy.

Here's the thing: If we count ourselves as witnesses for Christ, we're all responsible. I'm not saying that each of us is obligated to become the next great saint (though I suspect that one person the caliber of Saint Francis or Mother Theresa outweighs a dozen of the snide attackers). I'm saying that simply refraining from evil is far more important than we've given it credit for. If we consider ourselves witnesses for Christ -- or if we're the only Christian that someone knows -- we cannot be the one with the temper, the one with the hatred, the one with the arrogance, the one bearing false witness or slandering our neighbor, the one trying to dominate or put down the other person, or the one cheating or stealing or committing adultery.

Because honestly, some of the atheists that I've met have arguments that don't fully make sense or aren't particularly persuasive, and once an objection is answered they simply produce another objection. That's the sign of someone whose real reason is held in reserve or kept protected. May we not be the reason that they have left the faith.

Create in me a clean heart: Digging into David's prayer

I return to King David's prayer of repentance time and again: "Create in me a clean heart, O God, and renew a right spirit within me" (Psalm 51:!0). He captures the human desire so well as we long for a purity and holiness beyond our ability to attain. So I want to consider what a clean heart might look like. 

• A clean heart will be joyful: "Restore unto me the joy of your salvation" (Psalm 51:12)
• A clean heart has rid itself of things that make it unclean: "Let all bitterness and wrath and anger and clamor and slander be put away from you, along with all malice." (Ephesians 4:31)
• A clean heart holds fast to and desires the Spirit of God: "Take not your Holy Spirit from me" (Psalm 51:11)
• A clean heart desires to be presentable to God: "Let the words of my mouth and the meditations of my heart be acceptable in your sight, O Lord, my strength and my redeemer." (Psalm 19:14)
• A clean heart is a treasury, carefully filled with treasures: "Therefore every scribe who has been instructed in the kingdom of heaven is like a master of a house, who brings out of his treasure what is new and what is old." (Matthew 13:52)

So the faithful are careful about repentance, about reading Scripture, studying together, and pursuing wisdom. These are some of the ways we build the treasures in our hearts. 

Seeing the Invisible God: The Holy Spirit in symbols

The Holy Spirit is God's gift to us of himself. This is similar to Christ, as Immanuel. As we cannot see the Spirit, the Bible provides some other symbols to help us understand the Spirit: 

• Wind symbolizes the Holy Spirit: a breath that gives life. 
• A dove symbolizes the Holy Spirit: a creature of the air and relatively untouched by earthly problems, it is gentle, an emblem of peace and hope. Doves were also at times used as a sacrifice. 
• Water symbolizes the Holy Spirit: washing, cleansing, and renewal. We see the Holy Spirit descend on Christ at his baptism with water, and speaking to his disciples about a baptism of the Holy Spirit and fire. 
• Fire symbolizes the Holy Spirit: light for wisdom and understanding, counsel and knowledge. While the Psalmist praised the Word of God as "a lamp to my feet and a light to my path," the image used for that light and guidance is that of fire. Fire was associated with courage, empowerment, and freedom from fear. Fire was also used to purify and refine.