What is faith? Part 3

What is faith?

Part 3: Medicine for the modern world

In the modern world, this faith is totally misunderstood by many who don’t have it. They think of it as a mistake, a delusion, perhaps like an infection that some people catch, but really you need to be healed of it. They think of it as a bizarre self-delusion, like those who insist that, though they are blind and in a dark room, there is indeed a black cat – even though when you, who can see, switch on the light, there is no cat there. In that respect, it is stupid, just bone-headed refusal to accept the truth. But this is because they think of faith as a “thing” – and as things should be able to be seen and touched, and they can’t see or touch faith, so it must not exist. But faith is most of all a way of living. And in modern society, it becomes more and more vital for the health and well-being of us all that people adopt faith as their way of life. Bizarrely, it is atheistic modern ideologies that are lost in self-delusion, grotesquely distorting facts in order to justify false theories that have completely lost touch with reality, while those “lost in the bizarre self-delusion of faith” are able to see clearly and uphold truth and justice. So, there is a desperate need for people to adopt an alternative way of looking and living and being – and this is what faith gives you. Enjoy the fact that those who despise faith find it infuriating and baffling; rest easily and gently with the fact that we cannot prove our faith – we do not have to respond to our critics: “Show us this “thing” you call faith, so we can test it and examine it”. We must simply draw out of ourselves the treasures of faith – baffling our critics again, “Where on earth did he get that from? How did she do that?”. Of course, if I extol this faith, we who have it must actually live in this way and perform these actions. Neither our critics nor we ourselves can see the source from which our spring flows, but we, and all, can see when we refresh those who are thirsty. And the channel through which this refreshment flows is called faith.

What is faith? Part 2

What is faith?

Part 2: A relationship, trusting, loving, fulfilling

Faith is faith in someone, in God. It is a commitment to honour him. It is a self-giving – and a self-receiving: receiving a new, transformed version of yourself, and receiving the self that is the person of God. Faith is a promise to be true to the one you love. Having met this God, this elusive stranger, this mysterious guest, this person whom we can reason out is always everywhere, but in our experience just visits us now and then, appearing suddenly, imparting a message, or just the comfort of his presence, and then he is gone again. He moves and has his will and calls to us, and is always an abiding presence, while still able to encounter us face to face in particular moments, in particular places, for particular reasons – such that at other times it seems as though he is not fully with us, though we understand he is really. But it is the meeting with him that is most precious. Like meeting someone and immediately falling in love, so those with faith are those who met him and found themselves charmed to the roots of their being.

Faith is looking up and beholding him, and smiling with pure joy to be in his presence. Faith is knowing that this is the heart of everything; it is everything, and certainly worth more than everything else put together. Faith is trust that this person you have met is real and true and worth all that you think he is. It’s trust, when you feel his presence and when you don’t, that you are enfolded in his love. Trust that if you follow his guidance you will find life in all its fullness. Trust that he cares for you completely and that he always and only wants what is absolutely the best for you. Therefore, it is trust that following his way will always lead you in the right path.

What is faith? Part 1

What is faith?

(An exploration in 3 parts)

What is faith?

Part 1: A verb, not a noun, active and purposeful

It is a way of looking at the world, of understanding reality, of understanding yourself and all your relationships – with other people, but also your inner relationship with yourself. It is a set of values, principles and goals to live by, a way of governing all that you do.

It is a source of strength and inspiration. In addition to all the usual – but still awesome – resources of mind and heart and body with which human beings are equipped, it is an additional resource, like having an additional gear, or, in times of need, a turbo-charge button that gives a mysterious extra source of strength that the normal physical world would not justify us having.

It is a relationship. A relationship with someone who is other, other, but more intimate than our own thoughts and feelings, someone who is discovered and met, not created or controlled, someone who has a will and a character, and, for unfathomable reasons, this other person loves you to the uttermost, and always will.

It is a shared understanding and commitment with other people who also have this faith, and so who form a community. It is something instantly recognised and acknowledged with the merest nod of the head and of the open heart: “You too”. It is a secret that is shouted abroad, but still a secret to those who don’t have it, incomprehensible, baffling, foolish, but for those who have the secret – or, who rather, acknowledge the truth of the secret – it is the most obvious thing in the world, and, like members of a secret society who understand the signs, just a look or a word are enough: “You know him too; you love him too”.

It is something that is nothing, in that there is nothing to see or touch, but it is everything to those who have it. Yet it is nothing – until the person speaks what is in their heart, or acts in ways that surprise, disturb and delight. “Why did she do that? There was no reason for it. Nothing in our normal understanding of how the world works prepared me for that”. And it is disturbing, but if you look and ponder, it is delightful, for faith produces extraordinary acts of gracious love. Too often, faith is translated into ideas in the mind that are agreed to, but really, faith is a new and additional source of love.

Listening to the Benedictine monks sing their Gregorian chant

Listening to the Benedictine monks sing their Gregorian chant

Listening to the chant, I’ve long been able to hear the joy in the monks’ voices, but now I can hear the love. These are men in love, but not with a woman, but with God. They are in love with love, in love with the love they experience within themselves. They have discovered a spring of love that keeps bubbling up, filling them, and overflowing. They cannot stop it and so must return to chapel over and over again to sing their hearts out.; if they kept silent, they would burst.

They found a well and drank deep to quench their thirst, but, unlike others who then felt free to leave and go about their business, the monks were drawn to stay. They have peered deeply into the well and, staying still until the water was completely stilled, they caught a reflection of themselves, transformed. “So, here I will stay”, each one has said, and glad to have found others who feel the same, they give their hand in companionship and say, “Welcome, brother”.

And I imagine that some days it is the spring, and other days it is the well: sometimes they cannot help but sing out their love for God, and sometimes they slog to haul up the bucket from deep in the well – but either way, they find refreshment, and pour out living water to all who hear.

It is the ability of the monks to focus that makes them what they are. Most of us get bored after a while, no matter how delightful the experience initially; we seek distraction and variety. But they decide that this is worth more than everything else put together; they have the staying power and make their commitment. “This is the well-spring of my life”, they say. “Here I will stay and sing. I want no more”.

That black cat. Part 4

That black cat

Part 4: Accomplished – reunited at last!

However, thinking for a moment, the illustration was always ridiculous because haven’t we all accepted that God is nothing like a cat. Some of the ancient Greek images suggest that they may have thought of the gods in concrete terms – that Zeus, for example, was like a superhuman being, who might be seen at particular times and places, doing specific acts. But all today accept that – if God exists – then he is a spiritual being. And this does open the path for conclusions like “God is the feeling of love that I get when I consider how good it is to be alive” – “and that is what I discovered when I finally stopped being frightened and frantically searching, in that dark room, in my blindness. When I accepted that this is my state of life, it was then that I did find something. Not easy to describe, but I did discover a presence, a feeling of being loved, a whispering voice. I cannot tell you what this “thing” is. And I’m not even sure that “thing” is the right word. It’s not like a cat you know! I can’t pick it up and show you it. It’s not solid like a thing; it’s ephemeral and insubstantial – and I know those sound like negative words. It is an experience rather than a thing. A relationship rather than a body. So, in a way, I agree: I found nothing – no “thing”. But I did experience a relationship, and in all my other experience in the world, when I have experienced a relationship, it’s because someone was there”. Notice, how we have moved far beyond the statement “God is the feeling of love that I get when I consider how good it is to be alive” – which is an emotional response that an atheist could easily make – and they would simply drop the word, “God” from the start of the sentence. We have moved back deeply into the sense that something is present, ready to be found.

So, regardless of the evidence, despite the evidence – or, rather, because of the evidence, because of my experience, I have concluded – have had to conclude, and certainly regard it as legitimate to conclude – that there is someone there. I have found the cat. There is no cat, but I have found it anyway. I have certainly found what there is to be found. You were wrong to say in your illustration that it’s like looking for a cat “that isn’t even there”. Of course, superficially, you were also right – but only because you misunderstood what this particular cat is like.

That black cat. Part 3

That black cat

Part 3: Deceitful – say what you mean

But this relies on the cat being there, and we are still confronting the punch line of the anecdote that “the cat isn’t even there”. So, is this an accurate illustration? Of course, the honest answer is: “We don’t know!”. Some people say they’ve found the cat – but they can never show you the cat (the room is dark, and we are blind, remember). Some people say they searched and never found any cat. But did they search hard enough and long enough? Were they just unlucky, and they and the cat kept missing each other in the dark? I think we need to judge that the illustration is not apt for the search for God.

Religious believers can sometimes be annoying when they keep using language as though God is the equivalent of a cat – something that can ultimately be picked up and held and cuddled – when really, when pressed, they admit that they have redefined “God” to mean something quite different – something like, “God is the feeling of love that I get when I consider how good it is to be alive”. Not that this is an unprofound way to define what we mean by God, and, in a moment, we will consider the precious validity of such a view, but it is deeply dishonest to tell people to keep looking for a cat, when they have themselves decided there is no cat, as cats are usually understood, but have not admitted that they mean something quite different when they refer to a “cat”.

That black cat. Part 2

That black cat

Part 2: Tragic – despair, for all is emptiness

However, we must return to the punch line: “the cat isn’t even there”.

If this is true, then it is an utterly heart-rending condemnation of humanity’s wasted efforts in a futile attempt to find what is not there. If we just take this in for a moment: consider the countless pleas for help, the desperate hope, the senseless sacrifices – all futile, wasted effort, betrayed hopes, unrequited love, calling into the wind for help that never comes, or even simply calling for an answer – but one you never hear, but there is always someone to lie to you, saying that they heard a whisper of something, and so you cling onto that. I think this is how self-confident (and sometimes aggressive) atheists view the matter. And, of course, if the cat is not there, it would be sensible to stop looking for it. We must not gather up crumbs and say that at least searching for the cat gives you something to do and a bit of exercise. If the cat is not there, there are better alternatives – ways to spend our lives that will produce better fruits.

And, to switch the illustration, I think it would also be wrong to use the idea of the cat in the box, which may, or may not, be dead, (and it is dead really) but if we don’t ever look in the box, then we will never know it’s dead, and so we are free to go on believing that it’s alive really. We must always go with the truth. Wherever that leads us, that is the path we should follow.

This also takes us to a crucial matter. We have acknowledged before the powerful truth that the benefits of believing in God are largely realised whether God actually exists or not – just provided the person truly believes he does. However, this truth needs to be taken up truthfully – and we have seen that there are perfectly legitimate ways to live a life of faith where you overtly accept that it is your commitment to your faith values that is at the heart of your belief. Taken to its furthest, this sort of faith is actually compatible with accepting that God does NOT exist – but you believe in the value of love, forgiveness, compassion etc – all those values which the person of God embodies. However, this sort of commitment to faith as a way of life usually relies on a reasonable possibility that God exists. We can happily accept the ambivalence of the evidence, and maybe God isn’t real, but we have a feeling in our bones that he does exist – and this is a legitimate conclusion because the evidence does also point to this possibility. In this case, we are back to the religious believer who acknowledges that finding God can be extremely difficult, because in that dark room the cat can prove pretty elusive – but don’t give up; keep trying and you will find him.

That black cat. Part 1

That black cat

(A theological reflection on the search for God, in 4 parts)

That black cat

Part 1: Comic – difficult but worth having a go

There is an old saying – relatively amusing – that searching for God is like a blind man, in a dark room, looking for a black cat – that isn’t there!

It is the final “killer point” that is so tragic.

If we think about it, the saying doesn’t need the man to be blind and for the room to be dark – one or the other will do, but it emphasises the extreme difficulty of finding the cat – and is, in fact, saying something profound about the human condition, that the desires of our hearts, for which we search with such longing, are so hard to find because we are, within ourselves, damaged or not complete, and the environment in which we find ourselves is far from ideal for finding happiness.

Nevertheless, we accept the blindness and darkness as part of the reality of our situation, and they emphasise the difficulty of finding God. However, it would still be possible – if the cat was there. We can smile as we imagine the poor blind man endlessly, and fruitlessly, sweeping his hands through empty air in a vain attempt to catch hold of the cat. Yet, in this scenario – if the cat is there – there is still a chance of finding it. This scenario is actually supportive of the religious quest: if finding God was easy, would that reduce the joy when you finally succeed? There could also be an element of thinking, “Well, of course, only the dedicated, faithful people will persevere till they succeed, while the feckless will give up after a few feeble attempts”. This isn’t necessarily a mean thought, and fits in with the religious view that finding God is so important that it is worth persevering no matter what the difficulties. There is the overriding hope that God can be found, and when you discover him, your rejoicing knows no limit – and this is true whether you find him early in life, or late, late on.

We can explore the illustration further. It would, indeed, be amusing (if a little unkind) to watch through an infrared camera the hopelessly, hilarious attempts of the blind man, in the dark room, to catch the cat – but this is assuming that the cat has a devious determination to avoid the man. However, if the cat is pleased to have company at last, in this dark room, then finding it would be the easiest thing in the world. The man would simply have to keep still, and the cat would come up and rub against his legs. In fact, in good old-fashioned spiritual advice, we could shout encouragement to the man, “Stop flailing about, you’re scaring the cat away. Just be still, and it will come to you”.

A cord of 3 strands is not easily broken. Part 3

Part 3: Learn to see through the false and hold on to what is true

New understandings that I think will help me are:-

So many things in the world we live in are false. They trick and dupe and lure us by taking something that is true and good and pure and lovely and ride on the back of that by offering us substandard alternatives. In this sense they are our idols – they promise fullness, but are, in fact, hollow and empty. We must use our faith to see through the façade that traps without satisfying, in order to embrace all the joys of life that open up to us as we follow the path of being true to God. In some ways, we are all like addicts, who constantly have to battle the lie in their minds that they really must have whatever is their addiction, in order to stay true to their understanding that the addiction can only destroy. Therefore, we need to keep reminding ourselves that it is a liberating joy to follow God’s way, and that the pull of our addiction – as though we are losing something precious by leaving it behind – that is the compelling delusion.

There are no valid alternatives to truth and goodness; anything that you think you’ve found that is not rooted in God is also a false and trapping idol. There is no need to keep looking, just in case there is something apart from God that might also be satisfying. Instead, revel in the liberating joy of living in God’s presence and following his way. When we do, we discover that all the gifts of life shine out before us; they become within reach; they are ours to accept in joy and thanksgiving.

We are who we are. The essence of our nature is that we have this awesome ability to do both good and evil. It would be tempting to focus on our awesome ability to do good; this is so amazing, and perhaps no other creature has the ability to do this. Perhaps too, they do no evil, in the sense that they have no choice over their behaviour – yet we know that, from our human perspective, much that we see in nature is cruel and heartless. But we, we have the ability to choose, to reflect on and to judge our own behaviour. We do not simply shrug and say, “We do what we do”. And so, it is of the very essence of who we are to be poised on the brink between doing good and evil. We must therefore understand and accept what evolution has given us – with that cruel and heartless drive, but not let that be the last word, as though our actions will be determined by that, as though we have no choice. And it is our faith, above all else, that opens up to us the possibility of choosing the good, and so of being true to God. Therefore, we must not hate ourselves for our failures, but love God more, and focus on his love more than on our distress at failing. And we must go on loving him, accepting no alternatives to his way, for every alternative will be substandard, leading us to a dead end.

This is what our faith is for. Exercising our faith – truly “exercising” it – pushing and striving and stretching – is the way for each of us to show that we love God, that we are devoted to him, and put him first – first and only in our hearts. When we choose a life of faith, we are not making a sacrifice; we are choosing life in all its fullness.

A cord of 3 strands is not easily broken. Part 2

Part 2: Faith is like a beating heart, not a bar of gold.

I accept that I have fluctuated like a weathervane when I need to be like a hand on the rudder of a boat, not shifting with every breeze, but holding a steady course in the direction I have chosen. I have regarded myself as too weak to resist pressure, when really I am just being weak, and not attempting to exert myself sufficiently to be true to my chosen way. My faith is the tool that God has given me and I must use it better: work with it, lean on it more, depend on it, trust it, wield it like a weapon to knock the stuffing out of what is bothering me, and as a shield against what is troubling me. As we strive with our muscles to move a heavy object, so I must press my faith against the challenge and overcome it.

It is time to join battle, with victory in no way ensured, but intent on fighting through if I can. If I fail, then I will call on God’s mercy to forgive me. If I succeed that will also be an act of God’s grace. But it is now essential that I make my stand and live by faith. It is no longer acceptable to fluctuate between renewed promises of faithfulness and easy surrender in the face of challenges – and then a new promise to try even harder in future. Not that I am perfect, nor that I will never fail; I will certainly fail, but God’s grace is sufficient. But I need to radiate strength and confidence outwards, rising from God’s Spirit within me, and which I have taken up by faith, to press outwards against challenges to extend the arena in which God’s will holds sway, in which his kingdom is established, in which I move freely within the boundaries of God’s grace. Not that his grace is not everywhere, but I want to establish and extend the sphere in which he is honoured, and within which I live and move and breathe – and I mean this both in terms of God being honoured in every part of my own life, and in terms of me being an agent of change in God’s service, in the life of the world. I don’t want to cringe or cower before challenges, fearing that I have no chance of overcoming them. I don’t want to be someone who loves God in the inmost parts of my heart and soul and mind, but who still has a divided will – wanting both God and what is not of God. It is time that he held unrestricted sway over all of my life. And to achieve this, I need to combine my existing stillness, resting in God’s grace, with a resilient strength, exerting itself to stay true to God.

I think that this approach will help me with all the causes in my life, all aspects, as I try and work out what it means to be truly devoted to God.