The Clash of Hope and History

Most of us are incorrigible optimists. And I don’t just mean the happy, bubbly people who could see the bright side of a sewer trench. Most of us, no matter our temperament, have a sense that the world will ultimately be good. We may not have all our future plans clearly mapped out, and we may be in the midst of struggles right now, but the majority of us have an inarticulate but definite sense that in the future the world is somehow going to be made right. In a word, we hope.

But hope is a curious thing in this world so filled with seemingly hopeless tragedies. We suffer directly as we or our family members grapple with pain and terminal disease. We witness the immense suffering of others in seeing Tsunamis wiping out entire cities and house fires taking the lives of children. And yet we still hold on to the belief that everything will be all right? But even if we could make every city natural-disaster proof, every house fireproof, and every disease curable, we would still eventually grow feeble and die, and that doesn’t meet anyone’s definition of all right. So where does hope come from?

It’s as if we live amidst the constant clash of two worlds: The world of hopeful desire on the inside of us, and the world of hopeless facts on the outside. The question is, which of these two worlds is the real world? Thoroughly cynical people (who, interestingly, usually still try to live as if there’s a future to hope for) accuse Christians of being childish and willfully ignorant. They say we live in a dream--that there’s no real difference between our belief in Heaven and a child’s belief in the Easter Bunny. Each of these beliefs, they say, is just a castle built in the air, with no objective facts to ground it. We’re said to be “escapists” who retreat to our inner fantasies about God and Heaven because we don’t have the good sense and fortitude to face the world as it truly is.

And it’s at just this point that confetti explodes over us Christians. The resurrection of Jesus was precisely the moment when the world of hope entered into the world of history: “Since the children have flesh and blood, he too shared in their humanity so that by his death he might destroy him who holds the power of death—that is, the devil— and free those who all their lives were held in slavery by their fear of death.” (Hebrews 2:14-15)

At Easter, and all through the year, we want to proclaim to all the stiff-lipped “sensible” people who base everything they believe on the hard facts of history, that Jesus Christ’s resurrection from the dead is indeed one of those hard facts! It really happened, and because it really happened “...we also rejoice in our sufferings, because we know that suffering produces perseverance; perseverance, character; and character, hope. And hope does not disappoint us, because God has poured out his love into our hearts by the Holy Spirit, whom he has given us.” (Romans 5:3-5)

In the words of, John Mark Mcmillan, “Jesus laid Death in his grave” and in so doing, He broke hopelessness and gave us the hope that does not disappoint.

"Combating Natural Disasters With Acts Of God."

Of course, catastrophes like the earthquake in Haiti always raise difficult questions about the goodness and the power of God. Why didn’t he stop it? Doesn’t he want the best for people? Doesn’t he care about the people in Haiti and other poor countries? These are important questions, but a big part of answering them comes in reversing the line of questioning. Why didn’t people use the resources God entrusted them with to do more to prevent the damage and loss of life? Don’t people in other, wealthier countries care about disadvantaged people in Haiti?

These might seem like unfair questions since we all know people have no control over natural disasters. But we do have control over many things that would radically reduce the suffering and loss of life that accompany those disasters. If this sounds odd, consider this: the San Francisco earthquake in 1989 was the same magnitude as the one in Haiti, 7.0. Sixty three people died as a result of the San Francisco quake; the total dead in Haiti will be somewhere over one hundred thousand.

What this shows, of course, is the difference in building codes and the way public officials did and did not prioritize safety in urban development. The pitifully flimsy buildings in Port Au Prince are largely a result of the greed and callousness of some of Haiti’s past political leaders who prioritized their personal wealth and security over public safety and well being. This corruption, not God, was a direct cause of horrible suffering for many people in Haiti. But then governments, especially third-world governments, are infamous for inefficiency and corruption, so why hasn’t more money been funneled in to non-governmental agencies (NGOs) by individuals and corporations in the private sector? I recently heard a news story about a high level executive of some Wall Street financial institution who was making a salary of over four hundred thousand dollars, and then received a bonus of a few million. Even in the areas of the U.S. where the cost of living is the highest, no human being needs four hundred thousand dollars a year to live a healthy, fulfilling life. I don’t know whether or not the CEO in question gives his excess millions to help end the suffering of people in places like Haiti, but many don’t (and many of us don’t nearly as much as we should). And so it is the greed of the wealthy, not God, that is also a direct cause of suffering for the earthquake victims.

To add to this, many people question why Haiti has been so consistently impoverished for so long since it shares the same climate and natural resources with the Dominican Republic which thrives in comparison. Remember, Haiti was the first all black nation born from a successful slave revolt. They revolted from France. A few decades later, the king of France threatened Haiti with military action unless it paid a crippling sum of money to France to compensate for all the money the French lost in labor costs after their Haitian slaves were free. This human injustice, not God, was a big factor in Haiti’s long term poverty, and consequently a factor in the magnitude of the post-earthquake suffering.

Posted on a website just after the Haiti earthquake, I saw a Salvation Army ad with the best tagline I’ve ever heard: “The Salvation Army: combating natural disasters with acts of God.” In his sovereignty, God decided it was best to create us and the world we live in so that we live everyday with an entrusted power to impact the world for good or for bad. The choices we make with that power make a profound difference one way or another. Because of this, God often chooses to act in the world through his Church. With the Salvation Army line in mind, the question we must grapple with as we face the aftermath of the earthquake in Haiti (and so many other evils) is this: Will the “acts of God” that come through Christians be as powerful in healing and providing as the earthquake was in destroying?

MM

Korn Conversion

I know I'm a late in the game hearing about the conversion of Brian Welch, the former guitarist for the band Korn, but I just saw his testimony and was cut to the heart. Just watch.

God is powerful!

http://www.iamsecond.com/#/seconds/Brian_Welch/

MM

Great Quote

This quote is better than the article it comes from, but it's a great question nonetheless--asked by book reviewer, Timothy Larsen, in Books and Culture this month: 

"Is evangelicalism today too accustomed to breezy, overconfident answers to contemporary intellectual challenges to retain some of its most thoughtful adherents? "

MM

Rick Warren and Obama

I didn't vote vote for Obama, but I can't help seeing him in a little more positive light after reading the article linked below about the response of Gay rights groups protesting his choice of Rick Warren to give the invocation at the inauguration next month:

http://news.yahoo.com/s/politico/20081217/pl_politico/16693

MM

Funeral Poem

I went to a funeral today and it reminded me of a poem I wrote several years ago: 

The Funeral Card

Nothing trumps hard

Like the funeral card.

It leaves no hope for another hand,

Not even a jovial, get-ya-next-time goodbye

To the others at the table from the losing man. 

A funeral sobers all with silent solidity,

Leaving us in impotent disarmament 

And toothless rage, 

As if we find the game is rigged

Just after all the money has been waged. 

Thank you God for funerals.

They teach me why I need to be saved. 

MM

Glorious Utah

Here are some pictures from a trip back to Utah last month. 

The first and third were taken from the trail up Mt. Loafer in Utah County, just east of Payson (If you look closely on the ridge line in the third shot, you can see the trail). The middle shot is a sunset taken from about 10,000 feet on the Sanpete--Emery County border:

 

Heaven: Real vs. Imagined

Certainly I can't be the only one who's experienced that ridiculous snowballing of speculations that happens when waiting for something without knowing many details. Let's say I have a good friend, one of my closest whom I've known for years—someone I'd trust with my life. He calls and asks me to  lunch. I get to the restaurant and notice I have a voice mail. It's him, saying he's going to be about a half hour late because of some “unexpected business.” 

After the first ten minutes I wonder, “What kind of 'unexpected business?'” Then I remember that's the type of thing undercover agents always say in spy movies. During the next ten my imagination begins to race through a series of increasingly absurd images: “What if he really is a secret agent? And not for the U.S.? Maybe he's an undercover Russian? Maybe he's working for the mob? Maybe the Russian mob!—just using our 'friendship' to get information” (It never occurs to me I don't know anything). During the next ten minutes I start to picture him late at night, wearing sunglasses nonetheless, at some undisclosed location speaking in Russian on the phone to his commanding comrade, using secret code to plan the next “drop.” Then my emotions kick in. I'm almost angry, and start to wonder if all my friends might be just as duplicitous. I start to think of how hopeless and lonely a world it would be if that were the case. But before I imagine any more, my friend walks up to the table at the restaurant, takes a seat as he tells me he's late because of an extra long line at the post office, and then says he's paying for lunch to thank me for always being a good friend.

The thing that gets me in all this is the emotional effect. Once these groundless speculations hit a certain point, I actually begin to feel a tinge of anger and loneliness. And then when my friend walks in and pops my ludicrous bubble with reality, I feel a sense of inner embarrassment, saying to myself, “How stupid can I be!? Why does my imagination conjure up such craziness! Where does this stuff come from?”

It’s going to be like this for a lot of us when we first get to Heaven. All our lives different voices have whispered, and sometimes shouted, that Heaven is fiction, that believing in it as a real place where we’ll live with God for eternity is like believing we could really stay at Santa’s house if we could make it to the North Pole. These voices strike at our emotions more than our reason, especially so in certain circumstances. Our grief over the loss of a loved one, or discouragement over rampant evil in the world makes us feel vulnerable. Ceasing the opportunity, the voice of unreason kicks in, and our imaginations run like a scolded dog into a busy street, darting to and fro, scared and senseless. Then doubts begin to snowball, and with them our fears and insecurities, and we begin to wonder, “Maybe there’s not…” “What if there’s nothing…” 

Oh but the day is coming when we, through Christ, will open our eyes in Reality on the other side of our last breath. And when we finally drop our suitcases in the foyer of our real Home, not only will we, as Paul says, know fully as we are fully known, but, deep down, we’ll realize that we’ve always known. (Evidence abounds here and now: Jesus in history, our relentless concern with beauty and morality. Why all this if there's nothing after?) That day will make all those that came before seem like a dream in comparison. And in the midst of that raging joy with Him, maybe we will remember those hollow voices of doubt and feel a little embarrassment, saying to ourselves, “How stupid was I!? Why did my imagination conjure up such craziness!? Where did those doubts come from?”

MM