Christian Theology: Ramblings about Apologetics
Last weekend I wrote about the concept of a triune God. Specifically, I gave human definition for the Holy Spirit. This definition helps me better understand things that are very complex. While Saturday’s column will build on that foundation – mostly my perspective on why someone would want to house the Holy Spirit – today I want to discuss why I present my opinions the way I do.
I’ve been told that I tend to sound apologetic when I write – that by my phrasing and word choice, I’m saying, “I’m sorry.” That isn’t my goal. I am not here to apologize for my beliefs but to explain them in a gentle, tender way. Likewise, I’m not here to convert anyone or pursuade someone else to believe what I do.
I don’t want to offend peole, thus I choose words and phrases that, to me, convey my opinions as opinions and not outright fact. I myself am offended and turned off when someone else states their opinion or belief as if it were universal truth. For example, many people say the sky is blue. For many people it is. For some, however, it isn’t.
I lived on the west coast for many, many years. Sometimes the sky was blue. Most of the time, however, it was varying shades of gray due to cloud cover. On top of that, I’ve known people who were color-blind. To them what I saw as blue or gray may have looked green.
Perception is important here. In my world ants and earwigs are disgusting, vile, nasty pests which must be destroyed on sight. Someone else might have a different opinion.
So, I’m not apologizing for what I believe nor for who and what I am. Instead, I am presenting my self and my opinions in such a way as to give my audience the option of believing or not. I see it thusly: These columns are plates of cookies. If you want a cookie, take one – or two or twelve – if you don’t, don’t.
**
I was raised in an extremely strict, fundimentalist church. Every Sabbath the sermons were presented as fact. There was no room for personal interpretation or experiential reference. If the minister said the sky was purple, I had better believe it was purple.
As an observent and intuitive child, I took this to mean that when I looked up and saw gray clouds, what I saw was wrong. This left me very confused and eventually doubtful of my own perceptions. As I got older and grew in understanding – coming to realize that even ministers could be wrong – I began to actively look for inconsistancies.
I then began listening to sermons with the assumption that the minister would either hand down some piece of half-truth or just outright lie; and that he would intentionally manipulate scripture to make his specific point. I began watching church authority figures with suspicion, and I saw that they couldn’t/wouldn’t live according to what they preached. Eventually I saw enough hypocracy that I just stopped listening alltogether.
I’ve always had serious issues about hypocracy.
**
Quite a few years back I took a Christian Theology Intensive on Apologetics. The class was six weeks of independant study during which each student was to write a fifteen-page paper. At the end of the six weeks, all students would come together to read their papers during a two-day, in-class session. As with most of the classes provided by that specific school, the class on Apologetics was multi-level; under-grad (me) through Doctoral (everyone else) students. In addition to my fellow classmates being two degrees more advanced than I, the majority of them were acting pastors.
As it was explained to me, “Apologetics” was a statement of what one believes and why they believe it as told to someone who doesn’t share that belief. The specific assignment was to tell what I believed about God and why I believed it as if I were talking to someone who didn’t believe in God. So, I did that. I wrote my paper as if I were talking about myself to an audience that didn’t believe what I did.
During the discussion portion of the class, after I’d read my paper, I was repeatedly told that I hadn’t cited enough scriptural evidence (I had cited maybe four or five scriptural references), that I’d used too many personal stories and/or anecdotes and that I wouldn’t be able to convert anyone using my approach (as if I were a failure if I didn’t/couldn’t convert non-believers). Those same comments were reiterated and rephrased by multiple people over the course of the first four-hour session (Yes, mine was the first paper to be read).
To say the least I felt attacked and ridiculed by people who were supposed to be shepherds and caretakers.
Before I defended my paper – part of the in-class process – I asked for clarification on what the study of “Apologetics” was. My original understanding was upheld. Apologetics was the statement of what and why as told to non-believers. Having that straight in my mind, I defended my paper.
I said that heavy use of scripture as “proof” is ineffective if the person I’m talking to doesn’t believe in or accept the Bible as true. Also, it isn’t my job to convert people – to make them believe what I do – instead, it’s my job to say what I believe, tell why I believe it and let the other guy make his own choice. After all, isn’t that the point behind “Free Will”?
The thought that kept returning to me, throughout that weekend, was that the majority of my fellow students – those who came down so hard on my presentation and style yet made no comment whatsoever about the content – had lost touch with what it was to interact and talk with people who didn’t believe in God. It seemed to me that these grown men had been so long convinced that their beliefs were the only beliefs that they had no patience, no room in their brains, for a different perspective.
**
I ask myself, every time I think about that specific experience, if you can’t at least listen to another perspective – whether or not you agree with it – what right have you to preach your own perspective?
Because of my church and school experiences, I try really hard to present my ideas and opinions as just those, my ideas and opinions. I try to keep an open mind when others’ ideas are presented. It is possible to agree to disagree.
So, bottom line?
If you want a cookie, take a cookie. If you don’t, don’t. I ask only that you see that there is a plate of cookies. Try not to knock the plate off the table.
Thus endeth the sermon.
Until next time…
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Status Update
For the remainder of the month of August, every Saturday I’ll be posting a column dealing with Spiritual/religious topics. If you are offended by Spiritual or religious discussion, you don’t have to read the Saturday columns; Thursday’s columns will continue to be the typical, rambling collection of thoughts and ideas about life with no specific focus.
I am aware that discussing religion and Spirituality can lead to some confusion, irritation and quite a few disagreements. For that reason I have set up a message board here. DSVic.BoardHost.com You are welcome and encouraged to make comments and/or share opinions and thoughts as you so desire.
You are not required to create an account with boardhost in order to post comments, but it would certainly help me keep responses straight. You know, responding to Jane Doe’s comments is easier when she calls herself “Jane Doe” rather than “guest”. But that’s just my opinion.
So, the bottom line is this: For the next four weeks, I’ll be posting a column containing Spiritual or religious content for Saturday’s columns. Thursday’s columns will remain the same. And, There’s a new message board so check it out and leave me a message/engage in discussion with me.
I can’t apologize for offending you if you don’t tell me you’re offended. Just sayin’.
For those interested in reading this weekend’s Spiritual column, please scroll down.
Until next time…
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The Holy Spirit: What Is It?
*The opinions, ideas, thoughts and philosophies expressed in this column are mine. They do not necessarily reflect those of the owners of this website, it’s parent or subsidiary companies or Moody Publishing. If you have issue with any content, please contact me directly through the Email address following this column.
*The following column deals with the Biblical Christian concepts of God. It is my contention that God is a being/entity/concept which exists beyond the physical realm. As such, I am well aware that physical terms will fall short of accurate description. It is my intention to provide “food for thought”. I am not saying my ideas are The Truth, merely that they are a way to help me better understand the concept of God; specifically the Holy Spirit.
*Finally, I am not trying to convince or convert anyone. I am only sharing an analogy that makes it easier for me to understand a difficult concept. I’m certain others will have differing opinions, some of which could wholly contradict my own.
So, Onward-ish.
The Holy Spirit: What Is It?
In the Bible we are given a triune concept of God – God in three parts: God the Father, Jesus the Son and the Holy Spirit. The first two easily translate to physical/human understanding. The third? Not so much.
While I’m well aware that there are many people who have had negative familial experiences, for the sake of argument I suggest an assumption of the ideal. Meaning the ideal/perfect father and ideal/perfect brother.
Were I to describe “God” to a child, I would do so thusly:
“God the Father is like your Daddy. He takes care of things, pays the bills, provides you with food, bed, toys. He makes the rules and helps you keep them. He protects you and loves you and wants every good and positive thing for you.
“Jesus the Son is like your big brother. He helps you, plays with you, guides you, protects you and helps you remember the rules. He also talks to Daddy for you and explains what Daddy means when you don’t quite understand.”
How, though, would I describe the Holy Spirit to a child? In the Bible we’re told the Holy Spirit is the Comforter, a Still, Small Voice. Does that mean It is a blanket? A conscience? What comparison can we make to the physical/human world that could describe such an integral part of God?
I think the Holy Spirit is the most difficult part of God to comprehend in physical terms. Yes, after a fashion, the Holy Spirit is a blanket – a source of comfort, security and emotional/spiritual warmth. And, after a fashion, the Holy Spirit is a conscience – that thing that tells us right from wrong. But those things – in MY opinion – really limit the fullness of the Holy Spirit.
Many, many years ago my mother described what it was like to have a child (me). She described me as being her heart walking around outside of her body. While I don’t have children of my own, thus don’t actually feel what she feels, the external heart is a concept that makes sense to me. For this reason, I think “heart” is a fairly decent human comparison for the Holy Spirit.
You see, the most literal translation of Holy Spirit is this:
Holy = of God; Spirit = being, identity, essense, center, core, heart, soul.
Therefore, the Holy Spirit is God’s self, His identity, the thing that makes God who and what He is. The Holy Spirit is God’s Heart. It is the heart of a man that tells him who and what he is. It is the heart, spirit, center of a man that tells him right from wrong. It is the heart, core, soul of a man that brings him comfort.
And, I think that when we ask for, and accept, the Holy Spirit to reside within us, God gives us a piece of His heart… that He gives us a part of what makes God who and what He is to live within our own bodies. Therefore, we have God’s heart beating within our own chests. We are His heart walking around outside of His body.
So, we have God the Father who is the ideal Daddy. We have Jesus the Son who is the ideal brother. And, we have the Holy Spirit, the ideal identity.
It’s food for thought, hmm?
Next Saturday I’ll move further into the role of the Holy Spirit, as well as discuss various speculations. Comments are welcome and encouraged. Comment Here
Until next time…
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A New War
If it isn’t one thing, it’s another. Saying almost nothing about the obviousness of that statement, I have a new irritation in my world. Ants.
Now ants, in and of themselves, have always bothered me to a degree. Like all bugs, though, if they stay out of my area and/or out of my sight and don’t fall on me, they’re granted safe passage. When they choose to invade my home and living space, however, their lives are in serious and immediate jeopardy. No questions asked.
Anyway, the earwig problem is largely licked. The nasty earwigs don’t often pass my view anymore, and those that do are either immediately sprayed with bug killer or squished beneath the wheels of the small, rolling table on the patio. Oh, and I found one in the sink a few weeks ago on a piece of apple core that hadn’t gotten all the way down into the disposal. That particular earwig met with a nasty fate!!!
You know, it’s kind of funny how a gentle, calm, sweet-tempered and somewhat under-reactive woman can turn into an utterly sociopathic murderer when bugs are concerned. But, you know what they say, it’s always the quiet ones you’ve gotta watch out for.
Anyway, we got home from Super-Dad’s pool party late last night – I’ll tell you about that soon – to spend half an hour or so unwinding from the 8-hour drive before hobbling off to bed and passing out. This morning, I got up and began my typical morning routine.
Pitstop in the baff-room, shuffle to the kitchen, make the morning coffee, shuffle outside for the wake-up-and-greet-the-day earwig hunt… you get the point.
Anyway, this morning that pattern was interrupted. This morning, after starting the coffee to brew, I noticed the frying pan I’d forgotten to wash before leaving town. No biggie, just put it in the sink, I’d get to it in an hour or so. Then, I noticed some coffee grounds on the stove.
Huh. I didn’t think I’d spilled any coffee. Well, I’ll get those wiped up when I come back in to take care of the pan… you know, after I’ve had a bit of time to wake up and am no longer shuffling around like a Zombie.
Milk and sugar in my cup and I’m waiting patiently for enough coffee to drip through that I can fill my cup… and I notice that those coffee grounds aren’t where they were a moment ago. In fact, they’re not even stationary.
I look closer and realize they aren’t coffee grounds at all but little, tiny, near-microscopic ants. And they’re on my stove! In my house!!
I almost woke up Mr. Fixer so that he could rescue me!
Instead, I examined the stove top to see if I could discover where the ants were coming from. Then I soaped down the sponge and initiated a massive, soapy drowning. Then I lifted the stove top – whoever made that change to kitchen range design, you’re my hero – and did a preventative soapy drowning (I couldn’t see any ants under the range top, but you never can be too sure). Then, I closed the range top and set the oven to self-clean mode!!!
I’ll drown them, bake them and THEN have Mr. Fixer, when he wakes up later, pull the range out of its cubby to spray ant poison in there! Sure, that means I’ll have to scrub the stove top, clean the oven again and scrub the floor, but those stupid ants will be eliminated!
With extreme prejudice!
Never before have I lived in a place where bugs and creepy-crawlies so boldly go where they don’t belong. I wonder if they’re William Shatner fans boldly going where no ant has gone before.
I have an internet friend who lives in Texas who frequently talked about having to clean out his cupboards and re-wash dishes because the exterminator had come through. It was a regular thing. Twice a month the exterminator went through the apartments and sprayed for bugs. Eeeeww!
Mr. Fixer better wake up soon. I don’t know how much longer I can stand knowing that those ants have found a way inside my house. I can hear them plotting the hostile takeover now.
I hate bugs!
Until next time…
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Copyright © 2010 D. S. Vic
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Choices
How come is it that when there’s something specific you want, you can’t have it? Rather, you can’t get it and be responsible at the same time.
As I’ve mentioned before, one of the contract points between my husband and I was his promise to build me a Muscle Car – not a fake muscle car like the modern Dodge Charger or Ford Mustang, but an honest-to-goodness, all-out, pedal-to-the-metal, eat-my-dust muscle car; a classic; a piece of steel that can fly. I’m talking real, American steel.
I don’t want some flashy, fly-by-night bit of fiberglass that would break if you sneezed on it. I want the good stuff!
Well, while we were garage saling a few weeks ago, Mr. Fixer and I happened across a 1963 Buick Riviera. While it needs a paint job, the body is straight. It runs. The tires are good. The wheels are good. The frame is straight. And, it’s for sale.
I want it.
A lot.
The husband wants it too. He says it’s a good car. He says it’s rare. He says it’s in really good condition for its age and asking price. And, he says it’s well worth the effort it will require to get it perfect.
The problem?
We don’t have the cash on hand to buy it outright.
Sure, we could get financing more easily than getting milk from a dairy cow, but that’s not – VERY NOT – the responsible thing to do. Neither the husband nor I believe in buying on credit – he from experience, me from observation. That, after all, is how people (and countries, for that matter) get in trouble. That’s why there’s such a thing as “debt”.
Personally, I would prefer that we hadn’t bought the house on credit, but I don’t know a whole lot of people who have hundreds of thousands of dollars lying around as disposable income.
So, I have to ask myself some questions.
Can I wait to have my muscle car? Yes, I can.
Would I rather have my muscle car now, and a monthly payment, or wait and apply that monthly payment to other bills, thus pay them down more quickly, freeing up additional, future funds? Honestly? I’d far rather have my muscle car now, have NO monthly payments and still be independantly wealthy. That combination isn’t very likely in this present moment, however.
The most important question, though, is this: Is this Buick REALLY the car I want? I don’t know. It’s nice, it’s pretty and it’s purportedly quick, but is it really what I want? No. Honestly? What I really, really want is a 1969 Pontiac Firebird convertible. A GTO would be a good second choice, but really, my dream is to have the classic Firebird.
You know, the monthly payments for buying a muscle car on credit nearly match our monthly grocery budget. Besides that, there’s a little, tiny voice inside my head telling me to pay off the note on the husband’s car before contemplating buying another car; especially one that needs “work”.
The bottom line is this:
Today, I don’t have the money to replace the condenser – thus repair the air conditioner – for my Crown Victoria. If I can’t put my hands on the disposable income to fix the AC in a car that’s already paid for, what right do I have to be contemplating selling my financial soul – or my husband’s, since he’s the one employed – to the bank for a car that’s little more than a toy?
Sigh.
Credit, I must remind myself, is for emergencies. If repairing the AC is not an emergency when I live in a place that regularly reaches the upper 90s, then purchasing a 1963 Buick Riviera is not an emergency either!
Sometimes I really hate being responsible!
Until next time…
Please include Northwest Journal in all correspondence. DSVic@ymail.com
Copyright © 2010 D. S. Vic
All rights reserved.
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