The following is from a website that I like a lot—“A-Word-a-Day”. (https://wordsmith.org/words/today.html), accessed 03-09-2018
“A THOUGHT FOR TODAY:
‘What has occurred over the course of the last few centuries is a growing (but by no means universal or certain) recognition that science gets the job done, while religion makes excuses. Sometimes they are very pretty excuses that capture the imagination of the public, but ultimately, when you want to win a war or heal a dying child or get rich from a discovery or explore Antarctica, you turn to science and reason, or you fail. -PZ Myers, biology professor (b. 9 Mar 1957)’ ”
Now, as will soon become apparent, I don’t entirely agree with this quote. However, quite often, those who oppose us can teach us a great deal. This is, at least in part, because they are right and we are not.
Religion does, far too often, make excuses. And science has indeed enriched our lives. I wrote part of this post while waiting for my coffee to perk. It stopped on its own. I used to watch my grandmother keeping an eagle eye on her boiling coffee pot. She didn’t dare leave it and do something else, lest it boil dry. What enabled my coffee pot to stop on its own? I’ll give you a hint: It wasn’t religion.
If I were using an old-fashioned pot to make my coffee (and given my attention deficit disorderly mind), I might burn our house down. Religion might help me to feel forgiven, but my house would still be ashes and cinders.
On a much more serious note, I heard a man being interviewed on “Fresh Air” on NPR. Terry Gross asked him about his church involvement. He said that he had left the church when he was in his early teens. He had asked serious questions about the evil in the world, and had been simply told that it was God’s will.
Often, for believers and unbelievers alike, such words are not an explanation. They are an excuse. The gentleman who was being interviewed was struggling with the death of a favorite uncle, and also with some children about his age who had died.
Of course, science has its own problems. Science (and its stepchild technology) have been used to win wars, but also to make them even more lethal. Chemistry is usually considered a science. Chemical warfare is likely not something most scientists are proud of.
Perhaps the problem with both science and religion is that they share a problem: human nature. Both science and religion are connected with human nature. The virtues and vices of both science and religion are the virtues and vices of humankind. Both have a tendency to become all-consuming.
And, frankly, both science and religion tend to offer excuses, instead of “getting the job done.” Both science and religion have a tendency to say, “Don’t blame us! We’re fine! It’s just how people use us that’s the problem!”
That may well be true at one level. However, at a deeper level, it sounds to me like an excuse, rather than a rational explanation. It doesn’t matter whether science or religion is saying it.
It should also be asked whether science and religion are always as incompatible as the quote above implies. Sometimes, no doubt, they are. However, there have been (and still are) excellent scientists who are also very religious.
I’m not an expert on either science or religion, but I suspect that the same things might make both stronger and better. One is an unrelenting quest for what is true. The other is a dogged humility about how much we actually know about that truth.
“People may be pure in their own eyes, but the LORD examines their motives.” (Proverbs 16:2, New Living Translation)
I suspect that the second half of this verse tends to negate the first half. No, I am not saying that this proverb contradicts itself. What I am saying is that I think that the Lord’s examination of our/my motives tends to call into question our purity. Note also the words “in their own eyes.” This is a phrase that often raises serious questions about the accuracy of our perception.
Do we really know why we do things? I doubt it. I have doubted it for a long time.
When I was a pastor, I noticed that the reasons people gave me for leaving the church I was serving almost never coincided with the reasons they gave to other people.
Now, of course it is possible that people were simply too cowardly (or too polite?) to give me their real reasons. However, it may well be that they didn’t really know their reasons, or that their reasons were changing as they went along.
Of course, my own motivations for moving from one church to another were always pure—or not! (Years ago, I read or heard someone say, “Why is it that a pastor never feels ‘the leading of the Holy Spirit’ to go to a church that pays less than the church he’s serving now?” That’s not always true, but it’s a good question, nonetheless.)
I was thinking about this matter of motives when a TED talk landed in my e mail in box. A Swedish researcher was talking about motivation. I need to listen to it again, but his final conclusions were pretty straightforward. Since his final words confirmed what I already suspected (both from Scripture and experience), I thought his words were very insightful.
“Know that you don’t know yourself!
(Or at least not as well as you think you do.)”
So, if we can’t be too sure about our motivations and the choices that we think flow from them, what are we to do?
First of all, we can be more humble about our own self-lack-of-knowledge. Knowing that I don’t know myself may not be a very satisfying type of knowledge, but it may be a very healthy kind of knowledge.
Second, we can cut other people some slack about their own motivation. If I don’t even know much about my own motivation, what right do I have to think I know someone else’s motivation?
Humility about ourselves often leads to kindness toward others.
Today’s blog post is simply a connection with an excellent TED talk at https://www.ted.com/talks/raymond_tang_be_humble_and_other_lessons_from_the_philosophy_of_water. The speaker says a lot in about ten minutes.
He is not necessarily coming from a Christian perspective. He is speaking of the power of water and lessons he has learned from water, from the standpoint of the ancient Chinese philosophy embodied in the book, Tao Te Ching.
However, if you remember that Jesus claimed to be intimately connected with the water of life (John 7:37-39; 6:35), it is not difficult to understand Lao Tzu’s philosophy in a Christian manner. (Of course, we in the Midwest are experiencing the destructive power of water, but Tang’s talk is still a good one.)
Enjoy!
“Pride goeth before destruction, and an haughty spirit before a fall.” (Proverbs 16:18, King James Version.)
“Look, Mom, no hands!” (Nine-year-old boy, doing tricks on his bicycle.) “Look, son, a broken arm!” (Mom of the nine-year-old boy, at the emergency room, after the doctor had read the x-ray.) "I learned that it is better, a thousand-fold, for a proud man to fall and be humbled, than to hold up his head in his pride and fancied innocence. I learned that he that will be a hero, will barely be a man; that he that will be nothing but a doer of his work, is sure of his manhood. In nothing was my ideal lowered, or dimmed, or grown less precious; I only saw it too plainly, to set myself for a moment beside it. Indeed, my ideal soon became my life; whereas, formerly, my life had consisted in a vain attempt to behold, if not my ideal in myself, at least myself in my ideal". (George MacDonald, Phantastes, 166.)
I was doing well, I really was. I was hustling to sit people in my station, which wasn’t the best in the restaurant. However, if I look pitiful enough, I can often persuade (guilt?) people into sitting there. I was getting the orders right. After about an hour, I said to myself, “I’m doing pretty well tonight! Maybe I’m getting the hang of this serving business.”
I immediately discovered that I was entirely premature in my self-congratulatory thoughts.
I seated a grandma and grandpa and their little grandson in one of my booths—and proceeded to make three mistakes: I forgot to give them their silverware until the food came out. (They had to ask for silverware!) I didn’t get a salad out in a timely fashion. I forgot that the little guy got applesauce.
It seems that every time I think I’m doing well, I’m not.
So, what is the solution? Not, I think, believing that I am not going to do well in a given situation. Rather, I think that the solution is to simply focus on what I am doing, and striving to do it well. Not beating myself up, and not evaluating. Just being a doer of the work.
Pride precedes a fall. Yes, it does!
So, I apologized profusely, and offered to give them a “d e s s e r t” at my own expense. (I spelled it in case they didn’t want the little guy to have any dessert. Hey, I used to be a dad of small children!)
I did give them a small dessert, paying for it out of my tip money, and they went away fairly content, I suppose. In fact, they left me a six-dollar tip!
Self-congratulation is always a dodgy business. Humility is a choice, but it isn’t really optional. Sometimes, failure is a wonderful reminder of this fact.
“The enemy of the best is the good.” (Jerry Rice and/or Stephen Covey?)
“The enemy of the best and the good is perfectionism.” (Down To Earth Believer)
I had a good day yesterday. I went to a twelve-step meeting, and then hit all three of “my” libraries—CCU, HUC, and the Athenaeum Library at St. Mary’s. Lots of good bibliographic material on Paul’s use of Scripture, Habakkuk, and Romans 1:17! In fact, too much material!
When I was in high school and just beginning to do (more or less) academic papers, I would get several books on whatever topic I was working on, but it was never enough. I would read the books—or at least parts of them. Then I (and my long-suffering Mom) would be up all night putting the paper together the night before it was due. How she put up with me is more than I will ever know.
Research is good. Checking to see what others have said on a given topic is important. However, in my case, this necessary research is out of control, like a resistant mold.
And where does this lust for more resources come from? It comes from my feeling that I really have nothing worthwhile to contribute to the discussion. But, of course, I can point you in the direction of some worthwhile contributions.
So, what is the alternative? To do no research? To just wing it, and say what I think I ought to say?
Perhaps not. Perhaps the right path is the path that threads the needle between two deep ravines. On the one hand, there is overconfidence in my own contributions to the knowledge of God’s Word. In order to avoid falling into this ravine, I do need to do research. My contributions, in order to be good contributions, need to be at least somewhat aware of the contributions of others.
However, the ravine I’m more likely to fall into is the “I-haven’t-read-all-the-relevant-materials-so-how-can-I-possibly-make-a-contribution” ravine. If I am to avoid falling into this error, I need to be humble enough to admit that I will never know “enough.” (For me, “enough” means everything.)
Ironically, humility is the antidote to both of these errors, because (ironically) both of these deep ravines are a result of pride. If I think that I can make a worthwhile contribution without consulting others, that is a complacent form of pride. However, complacent pride is still pride.
And if I think that I have nothing of my own to say, that is a form of false humility. And false humility is just pride that disguises itself in rags of its own making.
So, today, by the grace of God, I will read some of the contributions of others to the topic of my scholarly paper. But I will also write down what I think. I will let humility keep me on the path that I need to travel today.
What about you? You may not be a scholar. That is good! If we were all scholars, we would all starve to death. Those of us who are scholars have our own contributions to make. They are neither more nor less important than the contributions of others. But, in what ways can you value the contributions of others, while at the same time valuing and making your own contributions? I dare you to be humble enough to walk that path!
I double-dog dare you!!
A comrade in the struggle against addiction gave me a wonderful metaphor today for how to look at our life. One of our topics was sharing our experience, hope, and strength concerning how to move beyond our own limited perceptions of our own selves.
One brother, Frank (not his real name) said, “Sometimes, I think I’m opening the shutters of my mind just a crack, and looking out on reality. But the problem is that I am just seeing all the ways I’ve harmed myself and others.”
We all nodded. Non-addicts sometimes fear that people acknowledge their “addiction” (if there is really even such a thing, according to the very skeptical), in order to excuse their own destructive choices. I would not deny that there are those who use addiction language in that manner. However, what I have experienced—as well as I’ve noticed about my fellow-addicts—is that twelve-step recovery programs generally tend to heighten the realization of the radical, multiple harms we’ve done.
So, our real problem is that we tend to think of ourselves as addicts and nothing else.
. . . Well, back to the comments Frank was making. He wasn’t quite finished. His next contribution brought me up short. Probably did the same for several others. Our nodding heads suddenly became cocked heads as we listened to Frank say something many of us had not thought of. Or perhaps, we had simply forgotten.
“But then, I open the shutters wider, and I see more of the landscape. And what I see is still the evils I’ve done, but I also see a lot of good things I’ve done.”
Of course, my sweet wife has often reminded me of all the good things I’ve done over the years. Some friends have tried to tell me as well.
However, for the past several weeks, I’ve been struggling with a depression deeper than any I’ve experienced for a long time. So, perhaps I was just needier and open to hearing this truth this morning. Suddenly, the shutters of my mind were thrown wide open!
Here is the truth: None of us is a bag of gold. None of us is a total dirt bag. What all of us are is a mixed bag. Humility doesn’t mean opening the shutters only enough to hate ourselves for the very real wrongs we’ve done. Humility is throwing open the shutters wide, and seeing what is really there—everything, the good bad, and the search-me-stuff.
And perhaps, running fast across the landscape, we may see a loving Father, running toward us to rescue all of his scared little adults and children, who are his prodigal children.
I just received word this morning that my absolutely final revisions of the PhD thesis had passed muster. I am approved for the PhD!
So, am I happy? Yes! Am I relieved? Yes!
However, . . .
. . . several thoughts come to mind.
DTEB, S.S. (Saved Sinner)
Recent Comments