I’m continuing to expand on some comments I made at over at glassdimily, as requested by Jeremy John. In the previous post, I compared Peter Rollins and St. John of the Cross. I concluded that a difference between Rollins and St. John is that while both may call for a radical doubt of our conceptions or beliefs about God; for St John there is a more radical act, that of trust in what is beyond our conceptions of God.
In Micah Bales post (yes I haven’t moved on just yet. I think there is a great deal to unpack and good reason to sit with the disagreement between Micah Bales and Peter Rollins) he used a comparison that I both understand and question, between needing God and needing air to breath. In the context of Atheism for Lent and Rollins’ work this seems like admitting he needs his belief in God to get along in the world, that with out his beliefs he’d be unable to function in the world. This is how Rollins’ chose to read Micah’s statement in his response to Micah. When I first read Micah’s piece I chose to read it differently. I heard him articulating that God is like air in that we as organisms can’t exist without it. Analogically God (not our beliefs about God) can be likened to air as God can be said to be that in which all that exists subsists and receives it’s being as gift.
One doesn’t have to grasp what air is (and even saying air is imprecise as what we actually need is oxygen) or even name what we need correctly for the relation between my being alive and “air” to simply be the case.
I also recognized the romantic element that Rollins points – As we may speak about a significant other, or spouse or lover as one whom one needs like air. Such a statement can romantically speaking either simply be untrue or co-dependent, but it also can be a hyperbolic expression of true and deep intertwining of two people in a deep love and trust. Thus, I heard Micah’s words as an expression of depth and experience of God as ultimate concern (to use Tillich’s term as Rollins did) as that which simply is in which all things have their existence. But also, recognize that such analogy suffers from the limits of all metaphorical speech, and if taken literally is then problematic even destructive.
I interpreted Micah in this way because, as i said over at glassdimly, as far as I can remember I’ve never given much importance to my experiences or “beliefs” of God. Feeling God’s presence or feeling God’s absence were of no particular significance for the possibility of God. I have long, first intuitively and then more consciously, been aware of what I might project upon God. But I have also had moments of encounter that were not simply an experience of beliefs I might hold about God. At three and ten years of age I experienced seeing the world glowing, become translucent with a light that came from nowhere and everywhere accompanied by an overwhelming sense of love for all. At ten the experience occurred while sitting at the edge of the camp fire at church camp, somewhat bored with the campfire program, looking up into the starry night. At a great depth in myself, answering a question I had hardly articulated and would always wrestle with, a thought/voice/resonance said “It is true.” When queried “what is true”, the resonance simply insisted “It is true.”
It is relevant to note that while I was baptized as an infant, the denomination in which I was baptized and raised also had those who were very concerned that children “say the prayer of salvation”, concerned that we children of the church have a moment of conversion (my parents and their friends didn’t have such a concern). I never went forward for an altar call. I never went forward or raised my hand in Sunday school. I disliked those Sunday School teachers who felt it was their duty to get us to say some silly prayer. Yet, it wasn’t that I doubted there was a God, or that I was to be in relationship with God. I didn’t find the prayer necessary for me to be in relationship with God. I was baptized after all.
Baptism and the experiences of the un-created light at three and ten, were the only overt experiences of God I had as a child. The cathedrals of Europe and the shrine of Lourdes I encountered when eight and nine resonated with me but it was only as an adult that I came to recognize their spiritual impact.
For much of my life God’s absence has been a more enduring experience, that is if evident spiritual experiences of God’s presence and God speaking to one are signs of God’s presence.
“Belief” in God, as I was taught to believe, had little to do with these experiences or even discrete propositional statements, called beliefs. Even something like the Apostles Creed was not interpreted to me as beliefs I was to hold, rather it was given to me as expressions of a trust in God, who was totally other (though I didn’t use that phrase until an adult in college). Belief was trust, it was faith, that is entrusting oneself to an other. This ‘belief’ did not guarantee outcomes. My father lost a number of jobs, often due to his faith (that is the way he lived his life as a person of faith). Dad believed all the same, not in spite of the evidence, because trusting in evidence would suggest that God was an object to be manipulated and controlled for our benefit.
I never found apologetic literature, like that of Josh McDowell’s “Evidence that Demands a Verdict”, convincing let alone as having anything to do with the faith I had, or raised to believe. I saw such apologetic as a profound lack of faith.
Once in University I plunged into intellectual exploration with gusto, I read widely, was part of a philosophical theological and literary group called The Society, we read Marx, Nietzsche Feuerbach, and I surprised a Religious Studies professor in a course on Christianity and Marxism with my familiarity with Hegel, and Marx and Feuerbach. Around this same period, I doubted my salvation, was convinced I was going to hell, found myself to be an atheist (though I never stopped going to church, so if Wittgenstein is correct and practice and belief are intimately connected then I sabotaged my atheism, but also if Wittgenstein is correct atheism is just another language game no more true or real than any other). In the midst of this or at the culmination or throughout this time, a persistent image remained of my self represented by large stone bricks suspended in space slowly dissipating into the nothingness, and as they dispersed at the center the crucified Christ was there, and it was the gravity of the crucified one on the cross that kept the pieces of myself from dispersing into oblivion.
Doubt, faith, relationship, and the Crucified One all conspired together to keep me in relation with God. A god who is as absent as present, a god I believe in as I believe in other persons I trust and entrust myself to, not in the sense of mere propositions that have nothing to do with the real relationship, mere abstractions of a person. I entrust myself not to that which props me up, but that which knows me and is closer to me than I know or am to myself. Therefore each Sunday I say ” I believe in God…” not as some intellectual assent but an act of trust and love.
I have doubted. I have questioned all the major doctrines and dogmas of orthodox Christian faith. I have more often than not felt God’s absence than God’s presence. Even now as a pastor, someone committed to leading and aiding people in the spiritual life and a life of faith, God’s presence is not a consistent experience nor an experience upon which I depend. I have no certainty.
As I transitioned from seminary to pastoral ministry, I recognized that beliefs and life of faith, the spiritual life, was more than struggling with questions and maintaining a dubious attitude towards the propositions of the faith handed on to me. I came to see the creeds, the doctrines of Trinity, resurrection, divinity of Christ, and virgin birth as invitations to radical trust and commitment precisely because they were things I doubted and because I could not solve them without remainder. I committed myself to a path, though nothing solved without remainder. I’m not certain, but I trust myself to the one who is other than I and in whom and from whom I have myself as a gift.