The Learning Curve

Who is wise? Let him give heed to these things, and consider the lovingkindness of the Lord. Psalm 107:43 NASB

Who is wise? – I’ve been at this awhile. Actually 6,700 Today’s Word additions so far. Obviously, not quite enough. There are still many more unanswered questions. It is a lifelong process and I am quite sure the goal will exceed my days. But I have observed a few things along the way. I thought I would share some with you. Not necessarily in priority order, by the way.

1. The more I encounter people around the world, the more I realize how much of who we are is determined by time and place of birth. Most people drift into the beliefs they have about life, the world and God. Very few of us actively choose the elements of what we believe. Yes, we fiddle with the edges, but most of the time our paradigms (our deep worldviews) are much more a function of our culture, language and borders than anything else. These things are highly resistant to change.

2. This is why it’s so hard to shift our thinking and living. Changing what I think about one part of my paradigm inevitably influences and changes other parts of my paradigm, until at last I begin to feel very uncomfortable in my skin. Not knowing how the story will end, most of us choose to ignore theological pain. We are “comfortable with what we believe,” and so we refuse to continue to examine other views. Ordinary life takes over. No one can live in chaos all the time.

3. Every idea, and consequently every human ritual, pattern or practice, has a history. There really is nothing new under the sun. It all comes from somewhere, but it’s not so easy to discover those sources, and when we do find them, it’s sometimes even more difficult to accept the real sources of our closely-held beliefs. The Trinity is a good example. So is Christmas. But Western Christianity isn’t the only belief system with suspect sources. Judaism has just as beliefs of dubious origins, like the Shabbat ritual that began with Kabbalah. When it comes to how we practice our faith, we need a very large dose of tolerance. No one has the pure religion we all claim.

4. “It is easier to study than to pray,” said Heschel. I find his insight as accurate as it is condemning. I wish it weren’t that way. Maybe it isn’t for you, but I seem to be in a place where I constantly don’t know what I know and feel terribly inadequate because I don’t know. This prevents me from praying. You might ask, “Why?” and I would reply that my worldview has been formed by the need to be right, to know the answers. Consequently, I am embarrassed (ashamed is probably a better term) when I don’t know and since I know I don’t know and God knows even better than I that I don’t know, well, it just seems (feels) as if I really shouldn’t be in the presence of someone I have failed so often. Now this sounds very personal (and it is), but my observation is that a great number of people have some variation of this Greco-Roman disease, that is, we are uncomfortable feeling. We would much rather embrace the cold logic of control than deal with the emotional roller-coaster of feelings. We think God is a logical God who wants us to be in control, like a Roman military general. We really don’t know how to be around a Father who cries, who sings for joy, who squeezes us with delight and weeps over our struggles. And so we carry on—alone. What a tragedy. In order to avoid these feelings, we turn to nice, neat rational packages like theology. But it seems to me that we really can’t understand Scripture in its personal application without the involvement of the emotions of the Spirit. I’m not claiming that Scripture can’t be understood at all unless you have the voice of God speaking in your ear. Clearly that isn’t the case. We can do the history, the languages, the culture—all of that—without Spirit involvement. But I think we need more than that to really come to grips with the message, and the message is what matters. Crying counts.

5. Theology is interesting. As ideas go, it is right up there at the top. Questions about God, the universe, Man, the nature of things, the purpose of being—all of these generate endless examination. But theology isn’t life. It’s abstraction—as all “ology’s” are. So it’s important to remind ourselves that even if we spend a lot of effort investigating, that isn’t the same as practicing. And in the end, I think practicing what very little we have actually concluded about life is far more important than having another “right” answer. At least I have found that even if my head seems straight, my heart can still be crooked. I don’t want to die with that kind of dichotomy. I would rather be a “good” man than a smart one. I have a lot of work to do here.

6. Not all roads lead to God, but God seems to be able to find us on any road we happen to be traveling. So I am trying to learn to see Him wherever my road crosses another person’s path. And gently suggest it isn’t too late to turn around—for the other person and for me. What I have learned is that force is of absolutely no value in this process. Forceful argument, forced rules, force of will—none really work. The only road someone will eventually follow is the one that makes them feel safe. That seems to be our job: to make it safe to ask and discover, safe to be ourselves right where we are right now. But the answers I have uncovered are not your answers. They can’t become your answers until you have discovered them within your own question. Fortunately, human being a more alike than they are different when it comes to things like pain, worry, sorrow, joy, delight and hope. Maybe making someone feel safe is much more about emotional connection than it is about theological reasoning. Actually, I’ve just about given up on theological reasoning. I still don’t understand why but it doesn’t seem to get me very far with the things that really matter in life. In the end, it’s still possible to change. And cry.

7. It seems that one of the most important elements of biblical exegesis is understanding the ancient view of historical writing. Frankly, it isn’t our view. What ancient authors tried to convey isn’t about chronologically correct events. It’s about the meaning of selected stories for the intended audience. Ancient history, biblical or otherwise, had agendas and those agendas took precedence over event accuracy. That doesn’t mean the events never happened. It means that the way the events are portrayed is often a function of some other purpose and if I don’t understand what that other purpose was, I’m likely to interpret the story according to my way of thinking, not the author’s. What this means is that I have a lot more work to do. I can’t read the Bible as if it were written yesterday. I’m beginning to think that the best way for me to understand what the Bible really says is to concentrate on the human qualities of the men and women in the stories. I’m pretty sure that basic human concerns and emotions haven’t changed all that much through the centuries. My approach to the Bible is becoming more like an approach to literature rather than a effort to make the text into a systematic theology.

8. In the end, I’m almost convinced that most of what I believe is the result of how God decided to bring me into the world. I had no control over that. He seems to have been content to start me off somewhere of His choosing, and perhaps my real task is to learn how to be content with His choice. More and more I discover that I really can’t be somebody else. “It is not your responsibility to complete the task, but you are not at liberty to desist from it.”[1]

That’s it, so far. Let’s go forward and see what happens.

Topical Index: lessons learned, wise, Psalm 107:43

[1] Rabbi Tarfon as cited in Joseph Frankovic, The Kingdom of Heaven (HaKesher, Inc., 1998), p. 33.