by jimwalton » Sat Aug 12, 2017 4:01 am
> Faith...and chairs.
Almost all faith is based on evidence, as I said in my first response to you (in case you want to look back—where the first analogy of the chair came into the conversation). You're saying that your experience is that you fall to the floor far more often than the chair holding you. That's what we need to talk about, and maybe we can, eventually, if you choose to continue this conversation. But I'll do my best to respond to you with the other things you've said.
> No faith, or faith.
There are degrees of faith and different kinds of faith. It isn't just all or nothing. It's more like the weather than crayons in a box—partially this, some of that, changing every few minutes or hours, sometimes staying the same for a day, and certainly going in seasons.
> But it is subject to misinterpretation
You are so right. As much as we can work through something to a proper interpretation, we also have a gift for coming up with a misinterpretation. And you're right that translation can cause problems, too. God chose to reveal himself through the Hebrew prophets and writers, and then through the apostles in the Greek language. Why did God reveal Himself to them, and commission them to take the message to the whole world? We can only guess at that, but their geographical centrality, their dedication to education, writing, and accurate transmission of written documents, and their undying commitment to religious commitment may give us clues.
But we also have to think that for God to plop the same Scriptures on civilizations in South America or the Pacific islands doesn't make sense. God operates in history, and so if He dropped on the Samoans the story of King Hezekiah, they'd only look like deer caught in the headlights. It would be meaningless to them.
> Panic attacks...
Sorry to hear about that. It does make it awfully difficult to be in a church setting. Perhaps a small church would be a better idea, but even those have more than 4 people. And you're uncomfortable with group conversations, which again makes it hard because we like to teach each other and be a family together, both of which usually mean a group larger than 4. So I can understand your discomfort.
> One day, a church member committed suicide
This just breaks the heart. Someone so troubled that they couldn't see any hope or any way out.
> That's when I first wondered why God would give him so much that he was driven to suicide. He gave him more than he could handle.
These are always tough judgment calls. We know that there are more spiritual forces active in the world than just God—the Bible teaches about Satan trying to bring us to ruin. But we are still left with the thought of, "Well, why didn't God protect or help him?" And this is where it's just difficult to know. What resources DID God give him? How exactly DID God help him? What of those did he accept, and which did he ignore? I'm not judging him, I'm just saying these are pretty tough things to know about a person. We have to be careful not to jump to conclusions.
> I felt so lonely and forsaken. I wasn't upset with him about my illnesses, but the loneliness. I could really feel myself drifting.
Loneliness is an awful feeling. You feel so hollow, unworthy, and unloved. I know when I have gone through those times I honestly felt like a waste of flesh, a totally worthless human being. It's pure agony of mind and soul. I went through a very deep and serious depression for about 3 years. Awful.
> God is just. But where's the fairness in throwing people like us here, while some get thrown elsewhere, some some even getting their eyes gouged out and sent to be beggars.
The world is a diverse place. We can't realistically expect that everyone will have the same life environment, the same path to walk through in life, with the same opportunities, the same problems, the same life contexts and the same experiences. And even if we did, it wouldn't be long before the decisions we make would send us in different directions again. And some are going to be better off and some have their eyes gouged out. If you want God, in his "justice", to make us all the same in all these ways, you're asking for robots, not human beings.
> Prayer works
I don't think "works" should be used in the same sentence with "prayer." It's not that kind of thing.
The book of Job deals with the dicey question of "Can righteous people expect to be blessed more than others?" The answer of the book is NO. Practically speaking, if God were to bless the righteous at a higher rate, the first effect we would expect to see is people acting righteously just to get the prize, which, of course, wouldn't be acting righteously. It would only be a show to force the hand of God, and we would be able to force the hand of God, just by praying. Secondly, the motives of any and every "righteous" person will come under question, because the idea of "blessing" will even subconsciously be lurking. Ultimately, such a policy will devastate any notion of righteousness on the earth.
But what if the righteous fare worse than the average? That scrapes against all sense of justice. What kind of God punishes his own people by deliberately making things worse for them? Ultimately, such a policy will frustrate any motivation toward righteousness.
Is there a 3rd Choice, where it all seems haphazard, non-sensical, unpredictable, and sometimes just downright irrational? Our choices are actually narrow: God be accused of ruining righteousness because he blesses people, God be accused of unjust cruelty because he doesn’t bless people, or God be accused of not even being there in any detectable way. Hm. Sounds like a Catch-23, -24, and -25.
Maybe there’s even another choice. Maybe it's really hard to tell where the blessings of God are and where they aren't, but people with eyes to see, who learn to recognize the hand of God, see them in enough quantity to bring a smile to their face and a word of praise to their lips. As far as others can tell, it's just the law of averages. But for those who learn to see, it's very real.
Prayer is just talking to God. I talk to God, most of the time, not to get stuff out of him but because I want to talk to him. I love him, and I want a relationship with him. So I talk. Just as I talk to my spouse, I am invited to talk to God about anything. It's my relationship, not a wish list. He's not Santa Claus, but my God.
I have learned (at least) three things from the Bible about prayer that I wish to bring out here. First, almost all of what God promises to do for me in Scripture is internal, not circumstantial. If I follow the Bible, if I’m going to ask anything from God in prayer, it's 90% of the time going to pertain to inner qualities: patience, strength, clarity of thought, the power of the Spirit, and the like. This is what the Bible tells me to ask for. Second, almost all of what God does circumstantially is through other people. If God is going to answer my prayers about something in my circumstances, it will likely happen through rather normal means: the actions or words of a person, something I read, a thought in my head. But how am I supposed to tell what is normal occurrence and what is God's hand? A Secret Service agent is trained to look for certain things, and when in a crowd, he knows what to look for and how to recognize it. His eyes are different than mine. So also an accountant poring over ledgers, a hunter in the wild, a detective on the scene, a psychologist in a session, or a teacher assessing her pupils. Our training legitimately affects what we see, how we interpret it, and our attitude about it. So also a Christian. But that doesn't make it fake. Through reading the Bible, and growing in our Christian walk, we are trained to see the hand of God; we understand how he works, what his activity looks like, and how to recognize it.
Third, answers are often not what I had in mind. In the Bible people prayed for stuff, and as you analyze the story and its causes and effects, you see that they got what they prayed for, but not at all what they prayed for. It’s like the poem:
I asked God for strength, that I might achieve,
I was made weak, that I might learn humbly to obey.
I asked for health, that I might do greater things,
I was given infirmity, that I might do better things.
I asked for riches, that I might be happy,
I was given poverty, that I might be wise...
I asked for power, that I might have praise from men,
I was given weakness, that I might feel the need of God.
I asked for all things that I might enjoy life,
I was given life, that I might enjoy all things...
I got nothing I asked for, but everything I had hoped for.
Almost despite myself, my unspoken prayers were answered.
I am among all men most richly blessed.
Prayer is seeking the pleasure of God’s company. I talk to him because I love him. If it's all gimme-gimme-gimme (you know, "Prayer works")—well, who wants a friend like that? He's not the fairy God-Father. We shut out the noise of the earth to commune with the song of heaven. And life goes on with its blessings and tragedies. My circumstantial life is no different than anyone else's, but my inner life is a treasure trove of immense difference. I have learned to see the hand of God around me, and it often surprises me in all its forms. God is all around me, actively at work. Do I get what I pray for? Only like the poem. Not what I ask for, but answers none the less. God is taking care of me. Sure, I get stones some days and fish others; some days I’m Job, some I’m in mountain mode. I never hear a voice, and I’ve learned not to trust the thoughts that come to me in prayer. Some are trustworthy, and some aren’t. They need to be assessed, because my mind is an unreliable source. I talk to God in prayer; he talks to me through his Word.
Don’t get me wrong. Prayer is anything but a smooth road. But I’m learning.
> Faith...and chairs.
Almost all faith is based on evidence, as I said in my first response to you (in case you want to look back—where the first analogy of the chair came into the conversation). You're saying that your experience is that you fall to the floor far more often than the chair holding you. That's what we need to talk about, and maybe we can, eventually, if you choose to continue this conversation. But I'll do my best to respond to you with the other things you've said.
> No faith, or faith.
There are degrees of faith and different kinds of faith. It isn't just all or nothing. It's more like the weather than crayons in a box—partially this, some of that, changing every few minutes or hours, sometimes staying the same for a day, and certainly going in seasons.
> But it is subject to misinterpretation
You are so right. As much as we can work through something to a proper interpretation, we also have a gift for coming up with a misinterpretation. And you're right that translation can cause problems, too. God chose to reveal himself through the Hebrew prophets and writers, and then through the apostles in the Greek language. Why did God reveal Himself to them, and commission them to take the message to the whole world? We can only guess at that, but their geographical centrality, their dedication to education, writing, and accurate transmission of written documents, and their undying commitment to religious commitment may give us clues.
But we also have to think that for God to plop the same Scriptures on civilizations in South America or the Pacific islands doesn't make sense. God operates in history, and so if He dropped on the Samoans the story of King Hezekiah, they'd only look like deer caught in the headlights. It would be meaningless to them.
> Panic attacks...
Sorry to hear about that. It does make it awfully difficult to be in a church setting. Perhaps a small church would be a better idea, but even those have more than 4 people. And you're uncomfortable with group conversations, which again makes it hard because we like to teach each other and be a family together, both of which usually mean a group larger than 4. So I can understand your discomfort.
> One day, a church member committed suicide
This just breaks the heart. Someone so troubled that they couldn't see any hope or any way out.
> That's when I first wondered why God would give him so much that he was driven to suicide. He gave him more than he could handle.
These are always tough judgment calls. We know that there are more spiritual forces active in the world than just God—the Bible teaches about Satan trying to bring us to ruin. But we are still left with the thought of, "Well, why didn't God protect or help him?" And this is where it's just difficult to know. What resources DID God give him? How exactly DID God help him? What of those did he accept, and which did he ignore? I'm not judging him, I'm just saying these are pretty tough things to know about a person. We have to be careful not to jump to conclusions.
> I felt so lonely and forsaken. I wasn't upset with him about my illnesses, but the loneliness. I could really feel myself drifting.
Loneliness is an awful feeling. You feel so hollow, unworthy, and unloved. I know when I have gone through those times I honestly felt like a waste of flesh, a totally worthless human being. It's pure agony of mind and soul. I went through a very deep and serious depression for about 3 years. Awful.
> God is just. But where's the fairness in throwing people like us here, while some get thrown elsewhere, some some even getting their eyes gouged out and sent to be beggars.
The world is a diverse place. We can't realistically expect that everyone will have the same life environment, the same path to walk through in life, with the same opportunities, the same problems, the same life contexts and the same experiences. And even if we did, it wouldn't be long before the decisions we make would send us in different directions again. And some are going to be better off and some have their eyes gouged out. If you want God, in his "justice", to make us all the same in all these ways, you're asking for robots, not human beings.
> Prayer works
I don't think "works" should be used in the same sentence with "prayer." It's not that kind of thing.
The book of Job deals with the dicey question of "Can righteous people expect to be blessed more than others?" The answer of the book is NO. Practically speaking, if God were to bless the righteous at a higher rate, the first effect we would expect to see is people acting righteously just to get the prize, which, of course, wouldn't be acting righteously. It would only be a show to force the hand of God, and we would be able to force the hand of God, just by praying. Secondly, the motives of any and every "righteous" person will come under question, because the idea of "blessing" will even subconsciously be lurking. Ultimately, such a policy will devastate any notion of righteousness on the earth.
But what if the righteous fare worse than the average? That scrapes against all sense of justice. What kind of God punishes his own people by deliberately making things worse for them? Ultimately, such a policy will frustrate any motivation toward righteousness.
Is there a 3rd Choice, where it all seems haphazard, non-sensical, unpredictable, and sometimes just downright irrational? Our choices are actually narrow: God be accused of ruining righteousness because he blesses people, God be accused of unjust cruelty because he doesn’t bless people, or God be accused of not even being there in any detectable way. Hm. Sounds like a Catch-23, -24, and -25.
Maybe there’s even another choice. Maybe it's really hard to tell where the blessings of God are and where they aren't, but people with eyes to see, who learn to recognize the hand of God, see them in enough quantity to bring a smile to their face and a word of praise to their lips. As far as others can tell, it's just the law of averages. But for those who learn to see, it's very real.
Prayer is just talking to God. I talk to God, most of the time, not to get stuff out of him but because I want to talk to him. I love him, and I want a relationship with him. So I talk. Just as I talk to my spouse, I am invited to talk to God about anything. It's my relationship, not a wish list. He's not Santa Claus, but my God.
I have learned (at least) three things from the Bible about prayer that I wish to bring out here. First, almost all of what God promises to do for me in Scripture is internal, not circumstantial. If I follow the Bible, if I’m going to ask anything from God in prayer, it's 90% of the time going to pertain to inner qualities: patience, strength, clarity of thought, the power of the Spirit, and the like. This is what the Bible tells me to ask for. Second, almost all of what God does circumstantially is through other people. If God is going to answer my prayers about something in my circumstances, it will likely happen through rather normal means: the actions or words of a person, something I read, a thought in my head. But how am I supposed to tell what is normal occurrence and what is God's hand? A Secret Service agent is trained to look for certain things, and when in a crowd, he knows what to look for and how to recognize it. His eyes are different than mine. So also an accountant poring over ledgers, a hunter in the wild, a detective on the scene, a psychologist in a session, or a teacher assessing her pupils. Our training legitimately affects what we see, how we interpret it, and our attitude about it. So also a Christian. But that doesn't make it fake. Through reading the Bible, and growing in our Christian walk, we are trained to see the hand of God; we understand how he works, what his activity looks like, and how to recognize it.
Third, answers are often not what I had in mind. In the Bible people prayed for stuff, and as you analyze the story and its causes and effects, you see that they got what they prayed for, but not at all what they prayed for. It’s like the poem:
I asked God for strength, that I might achieve,
I was made weak, that I might learn humbly to obey.
I asked for health, that I might do greater things,
I was given infirmity, that I might do better things.
I asked for riches, that I might be happy,
I was given poverty, that I might be wise...
I asked for power, that I might have praise from men,
I was given weakness, that I might feel the need of God.
I asked for all things that I might enjoy life,
I was given life, that I might enjoy all things...
I got nothing I asked for, but everything I had hoped for.
Almost despite myself, my unspoken prayers were answered.
I am among all men most richly blessed.
Prayer is seeking the pleasure of God’s company. I talk to him because I love him. If it's all gimme-gimme-gimme (you know, "Prayer works")—well, who wants a friend like that? He's not the fairy God-Father. We shut out the noise of the earth to commune with the song of heaven. And life goes on with its blessings and tragedies. My circumstantial life is no different than anyone else's, but my inner life is a treasure trove of immense difference. I have learned to see the hand of God around me, and it often surprises me in all its forms. God is all around me, actively at work. Do I get what I pray for? Only like the poem. Not what I ask for, but answers none the less. God is taking care of me. Sure, I get stones some days and fish others; some days I’m Job, some I’m in mountain mode. I never hear a voice, and I’ve learned not to trust the thoughts that come to me in prayer. Some are trustworthy, and some aren’t. They need to be assessed, because my mind is an unreliable source. I talk to God in prayer; he talks to me through his Word.
Don’t get me wrong. Prayer is anything but a smooth road. But I’m learning.