makeshiftmind

We’ve probably all walked through our local bookstore where the “romantic fiction” section spans twice as many shelves as, say, the classic literature or history books. We’ve all seen the racy covers, where large hunky men are holding scantily clad women in poses that would give any normal person severe back pain for the rest of his or her life. We’ve all thought, “how silly”, but one man has the gumption to do what we all should have done upon seeing these cheesy literary cop-offs: he publicly ridicules them! With an excessive use of artistic license, Longmire “bought a few of them at the used book store and got to work on them. The artwork almost writes its own jokes.” Go take a look.

What makes faith superior to knowledge? There are plenty of people that pit faith against knowledge, or reason. I’m wondering exactly what the nature of faith is (in concise, unambiguous terms), and why it is the vehicle of the Christian life. My assumption is, of course, that God would choose the best possible vehicle for imparting the Christian life, therefore making faith superior to other forms of knowledge. But how is it superior, and why is it superior?

Jesus Himself seemed to indicate that faith was different than knowledge (at least, empirical knowledge). Jn. 20:29 Jesus said to him, “Because you have seen Me, have you believed? (43) Blessed are they who did not see, and yet believed.” This is a strange thing to say, especially when a major portion of Jesus’ ministry was devoted to empirical miracles and signs. Why was Thomas chastised for his desire to know empirically that Jesus was alive?

Faith and knowledge are not the same thing; we properly categorize empirical experience as a method of knowing, but I have yet to see anyone explain how faith is a method of knowing anything. I don’t believe that all forms of knowledge are empirical–a great deal of it is, but there are certain truths that are self-evident, though not empirical; i.e., statements that are true by definition. I would like to know how faith is a knowledge of the Truth.

If faith is “looking past the empirical world”, we must ask, “past the empirical world, to what?” To a world we cannot know or understand? Does that make sense? How can you place your trust or hope in what you do not understand? How can you call this “heavenly thinking” when there is no “thinking” to it?

I agree that there is no contradiction between faith and knowledge; that is to say, they are not mutually exclusive. However, I fail to see why faith is superior to knowledge. As human beings, we place our “trust” in that which we know. We drive cars because we have a tremendous amount of empirical knowledge about how they work. Whenever we have a problem to solve, we seek empirical, rational answers. There is no value in trying to contemplate or dwell on the unintelligible or unknowable, and we certainly don’t place our trust in it. Perhaps our knowledge of things empirical/rational will lead us to the conclusion that there is something beyond this world, but unless that could be understood, what would be the point of trying to have faith in it?

To state the core of the issue another way: since God is not objectively verifiable (not that He couldn’t be, but it seems He’s chosen not to be), “faith” is necessary. My question is, why is this the case, and what makes it superior to objectively verifiable knowledge?

Now, you might draw the conclusion that there are plenty of “observable” facts that would suggest Christianity is true, or God exists (such as the resurrection of Christ as a historical event). But all this does is establish such things as bare facts. My concern is over faith as it applies, not to bare facts per se, but to relationships. For example, I believe, based on historical evidences, that a man named Socrates actually existed and drank hemlock. It is reasonable to draw such conclusions. But no one in their right mind would suggest that, just because Socrates existed as a matter of historical fact, I should have a personal relationship with him. Relationships must be present, real, dynamic, and objective. They involve knowing another; even the Bible presents relationships as such. Believing that Jesus is a historical figure is one thing; loving and trusting is completely different.

The testimonies of historical figures may lead us to the fact of a love between two historical people, but how does it convey that love to us in a present, personal way? The interaction between God and man in the Old Testament seems very objective–even to the point that God’s enemies knew He existed in their own objective experience. Certainly this is amplified in the prophets, and the promise of the New Covenant is that the relationship between God and man would become increasingly more personal (i.e., would improve). Assuming that Jesus was God, no one would doubt that His followers shared in an objective, personal relationship with a real person. Jesus promised yet another stage (improvement) in the God/man relationship–the Holy Spirit. Yet this seems to place Christians in a worse position than before the Old Covenant–namely, one in which a relationship with God is vague and sketchy, based on subjective experiences instead of on an objectively verifiable personality. It seems odd to me that the immediate followers of Christ–the twelve apostles and their immediate followers–demonstrated the objective nature of the God/man relationship with, what they termed, the “power of the Spirit.” Signs, miracles, etc. are clearly objective, though not intrinsically personal. Why, then, has the last 1600-1800 years seen so much confusion over what constitutes a personal relationship with God? The history of the church may well be one of doctrinal clarification (and confusion, I might add), but from what I understand about history, and the present condition of the church in America and abroad, there doesn’t seem to be much, if any improvement in the relationship of God and man (other than, one might argue, the technicalities of justification–but if that is all that is relevant to the Christian life, then a personal relationship is meaningless; the penal satisfaction is all that counts).

I have witnessed a tremendous amount of evidence to bolster this point. For example, my family used to attend what may be called a solid, Bible-believing, conservative church along the lines of the Reformed tradition. Most of the members (about 250-300) are individuals who strive for godliness and desire an intense personal relationship with God. One aspect of this is the amount of energy poured into worship. Visitors acknowledge that this church has a very “powerful” worship time. But what confuses me is that this worship time seems to be nothing more than a weekly mantra–all the same things are said, all the same requests are made, and nothing ever happens or is fulfilled. Songs are sung about wanting to reach out and touch God, or hear His voice, or experience His presence, or be guided by His Spirit, etc. All of these are clear requests for an objective, personal relationship with a person, not an untouchable, utterly-transcendent being. That’s all fine and dandy–except it’s always the same requests every week. This means that the requests for this intimate relationship are not being granted. When a man asks a woman to marry him, he does not ask her every week for an undefined number of years and continue to take silence (or no) as an answer–eventually he quits asking. I see this same phenomena in prayer. When I listen to the way people pray, and what they pray for (very similar requests as the worship songs), I am sad that these prayers must be repeated weekly. Again, this tells me that there is no answer.

Thus, my intense probing into the nature of the so-called “relationship” with God. What does it consist of, what should a Christian expect from it, have we made it something that it is not, and why does it seem that everyone has either a foggy definition of what the Holy Spirit is and does in the believer’s life?

CNet news is running a story on the most recent development in national ID legislation: Senate approves electronic ID card bill

From the article:

“If the act’s mandates take effect in May 2008, as expected, Americans will be required to obtain federally approved ID cards ‘machine readable technology’ that abides by Department of Homeland Security specifications. Anyone without such an ID card will be effectively prohibited from traveling by air or Amtrak, opening a bank account, or entering federal buildings… After the Real ID Act’s sponsors glued it to an Iraq military spending bill, final passage was all but guaranteed.”

The House vote on the bill was 261-161. The Senate vote was unanimous. At least our country has bi-partisan support for one issue: tyranny.

Can anyone say “totalitarian”? Whatever happened to freedom and liberty? Why do I need the almighty government’s blessing to do things that I have a natural right to do? When will people stop bowing at the alter of Big Brother and sacrificing their lives to a bunch of stiff suits who want to tell them how to live and what to do? When will we stop being addicted to the idea that legislation cures all?

I’ll be damned if I know.

“Actually, what is the political struggle that we witness? It is the instinctive struggle of all people toward liberty. And what is this liberty, whose very name makes the heart beat faster and shakes the world? Is it not the union of all liberties — liberty of conscience, of education, of association, of the press, of travel, of labor, of trade? In short, is not liberty the freedom of every person to make full use of his faculties, so long as he does not harm other persons while doing so? Is not liberty the destruction of all despotism — including, of course, legal despotism? Finally, is not liberty the restricting of the law only to its rational sphere of organizing the right of the individual to lawful self-defense; of punishing injustice?”

“It must be admitted that the tendency of the human race toward liberty is largely thwarted, especially in [19th century] France. This is greatly due to a fatal desire — learned from the teachings of antiquity — that our writers on public affairs have in common: They desire to set themselves above mankind in order to arrange, organize, and regulate it according to their fancy.“

Frederic Bastiat, The Law (emphasis mine)