Why I Wish Everything was Meaningless: Becoming an Optimistic Nihilist

When I was a kid I LOVED Cosmology!

THAT HAS NOTHING TO DO WITH MAKEUP OR HAIR! It's the study of the universe as a whole.

Now let me just say that I certainly wasn't a brainy dweeb, I limped my way through most of my school years with D's and F's. So the mechanics of the universe didn't excite me as much as the mystery of it all. I liked to stargaze and think about all of the unexplored territory of the heavens.
In thinking about the universe as a young boy, the BIG QUESTIONS would come to me.

• What are the parameters of the universe?
• If the universe could be contained, what was outside of it?
• What set the universe into motion/existence?
• What was before the universe?
• That question presupposes that the universe was at some time an infinite space in which matter did not exist. Therefore, what was in that space before matter? and, what generated that matter?
• If there is space without matter, is it really space or rather nothingness/void? 
• Is the distinction between space and nothingness semantics, or is space an identifiable element of its own?
• With said proposition about space, space must be an allotted area which is perceived. What is it then, that perceives space, in which matter exists?
• If it was God who put all things into motion, perceives space, and creates matter, what was before Him/Her/It?

All of those questions led me as a young boy to the question of WHY?

Why is the most dangerous of all questions. When setting aside all thoughts of abstraction, we are still left with the question of purpose. When the universe is as vast and as disconcerting as it appears to be, and we are as small and as insignificant as the very void I pondered, then hopelessness is the conclusion I came to as a child.

Of course I found purpose later in life, through faith. But now I acknowledge that in finding faith, I abandoned the pursuit unlocking the mysteries of the universe.

I recently rediscovered this treasure cove of thought, as I've been watching Nova episodes and vintage Star Trek. And so I returned to my pursuit of cosmology and the thought of purposelessness (which my faith at one time alleviated) which now brought me hope instead of distress.

If everything is meaningless, than I am not important. If I am not important, neither are my ambitions, nor my shortcomings, nor my quest for validation.


In this thought, I let out a deep sigh of relief

In thinking this, for the first time I felt as though I had begun to achieve my present objective of death to self. That is, selfish ambition, selfish affirmation, and being self absorbed. By dying to all of these things I believe I can serve God and those made in his image selflessly.

So in light of my nihilistic conclusions about the universe, I realized that my quest for self mortification was selfish and individualistic. It was just as much focused inward as the narcissism it sought to remedy.

But if I let go of my "importance" in realizing that the universe is vast and I am small, than there is no process. I become less. I am diminished. I am shrunken. I am insignificant.

That socially awkward remark I made which lingers in my mind to the point of emotionally self inflicted woundedness, it is irrelevant.

All of my mistakes, big and small. They are irrelevant.

All of accomplishments which lead me to think I am special... they are irrelevant. 

I write this not simply for my own benefit, but I think that many of us need to begin a similar process.

This thought struck me while reading an article by Brian McLaren here.

McLaren, talking about how North American Christians might appear to an alien race who is investigating our planet, concludes the following:

...If you doubt what I’m saying, listen next time you’re singing in worship. It’s about how Jesus forgives me, embraces me, makes me feel his presence, strengthens me, forgives me, holds me close, touches me, revives me, etc., etc. Now this is all fine. But if an extraterrestrial outsider from Mars were to observe us, I think he would say either a) that these people are all mildly dysfunctional and need a lot of hug therapy (which is ironic, because they are among the most affluent in the world, having been materially blessed in every way more than any group in history), or b) that they don’t give a rip about the rest of the world, that their religion/spirituality makes them as selfish as any nonChristian, but just in spiritual things rather than material ones. (That last sentence may be worth another read.)

There's much more to this article worth checking out, but it will suffice to say that even in our worship to God, we are in a paradoxical way affirming ourselves and our statuses. Perhaps the problem is that we have been taught to focus solely on what we are. We have been taught to ask the question of status and standing and position. And these are the things we affirm in our songs, in our reading of scripture, and in the longings of the deepest parts of our being.

What am I? I am nothing. If I am nothing than I am free to be anything for Christ.

REMEMBER THAT YOU ARE DUST, AND TO DUST YOU SHALL RETURN

Hiding Behind the Bible

I work with some awesome people. One, in particular, serves as the sympathetic ear to the entire office. If you have a problem (and in the line of work we do, that's often) you always know that Rachel will listen and genuinely enter into your frustration or grief. She is one of the most sympathetic and genuine people I know.


I also value Rachel because she grew up in a fundamentalist home. This experience has soured her to much of what Christianity has to offer (her stories sour me toward Christians too!). Having lived it, Rachel provides me with countless stories that demonstrate just how rude, unloving, and... well... just plain ignorant of the bible we Christians really are. Rachel has been exposed to the bible by her father having used it to exert authority over his family, to oppress women, and gain control of the lives of his adult children. It is truly sad. Here is an example of an exchange Rachel and I recently had:

Rachel's sister was in the hospital and was/is very ill. While the family was gathered together at the hospital, her father (a former pastor) tried to assert his authority, seizing the opportunity to lecture his children on biblical matters. Not only was this completely inappropriate because of the timing, but the subject matter demonstrates just how arrogant and insensitive we can be, being that "we are the soul possessors of the truth and we must educate everyone at all times." POOP ON THAT! 
The sad thing is, this story wasn't hard for me to believe.
We can be such douche's sometimes

Her father turned his attention to Rachel, stating that he was concerned about the kind of woman she would be as a wife. His concern being that she had a career, a career that she is passionate about (as she should be: she is very good at her job). Her father lectured her that it was a woman's job to stay at home, not to pursue a career. Rachel pushed the issue, saying:

"Why Dad? why does a woman need to stay at home?"
"Because the Bible says so. That's why"
"Where does the Bible say so?"
"I'll tell you where. Titus 2. That's where."

It was at this time that the office phone rang and our conversation was interrupted. I printed off Titus 2 however, and Rachel and I took note of a few things.


The passage that her father was referencing is as follows:

 ³ Likewise, teach the older women to be reverent in the way they live, not to be slanderers or addicted to much wine, but to teach what is good. ⁴ Then they can urge the younger women to love their husbands and children, ⁵ to be self-controlled and pure, to be busy at home, to be kind, and to be subject to their husbands, so that no one will malign the word of God

I pointed out to Rachel the verse just beneath it:

 ⁹ Teach slaves to be subject to their masters in everything, to try to please them, not to talk back to them, ¹⁰ and not to steal from them, but to show that they can be fully trusted, so that in every way they will make the teaching about God our Savior attractive.

I said to Rachel:

"Ask your father if he is for the institution of slavery. More than likely, he will say that he is not. If he cannot explain why, than that is a contradiction right there. More than likely, if he knows a little bit of the bible he is hiding behind, he may say that the the trans-Atlantic slave trade was very different than the slave trade of Paul's time. If your father says this, tell him that the passage that he quoted to deter you from your career is also very different from the 1950's, June Cleaver bullshit that he's propagating."

It was such a prime example of hermeneutical inconsistency and hypocrisy. My professor pointed out a similar inconsistency that I have personally seen thrown in the faces of women frequently.

 ³⁴ Women should remain silent in the churches. They are not allowed to speak, but must be in submission, as the law says. ³⁵ If they want to inquire about something, they should ask their own husbands at home; for it is disgraceful for a woman to speak in the church.

We quote this all the time, yet we never condemn women for wearing jewelry or for braiding their hair, or dressing fanciful on a Sunday morning. Is this not also spoken against in the scriptures? The scriptures tell us to pray with our hands lifted high, but my guess is that these same churches would be upset if someone prayed this way in their congregation.

People are still using the scriptures as a tool of oppression. Our methods of interpreting have left us  inconsistent and hypocritical.

Augustine, concerning interpretation, stated that an interpretation was valid so long as it lead the interpreter to love God, and love his neighbor. There is nothing loving about the way Rachel's father treats his children by imposing "biblical authority" as a justification for a "my way or the highway" mentality. There is nothing loving about churches who oppress women by taking their voice and confining them to reside in the home as the only viable expression of femininity. 

It is cowardly to hide behind passages of scripture to justify our hatred and bigotry when we know there is no justification for it. I ask for forgiveness, having done so myself, and I invite my brethren who are in the same boat to repent of this as well.You know in your heart that what you are espousing is wrong, may God help you if you continue to kick against the goad.

A Mystery Revealed from my Darkest Days of Suicidal Idealization

In 2010, I spent the majority of the year in a state of dark and deep depression, prone to fits of suicidal idealization. I did not want to die, but did not desire to live. The thought of the grief I would cause those that I love kept me from making such a selfish decision. I would lay in bed for days just wishing that I could close my eyes and fade into nothingness.

Even now I have good weeks and months and bad weeks and months, but all of last year was characterized by an ache within my heart that I could not alleviate. I drank almost every day. I stayed awake for days and then slept for days. I can remember in the beginning of January, waking up and bargaining with God with my life:
"God, if you do not do something, I will end it. If you do not do something to help me, I will end it."

Sometime in the early summer of 2010, I woke up Sunday morning with an expression stuck in my head. I could not shake it, and I still repeat the phrase from time to time. I had Googled the phrase and found no answer. It seemed like gibberish, yet I knew it had to mean something important.

I woke up repeating the phrase "Aung-fec-tungen". That was how I heard it, that was how I spelled it. I didn't know what it meant, but I even spoke about it to the Sunday school class I was teaching. It just overwhelmed me, and wouldn't leave me.

Tonight, I am reading Off the Record with Martin Luther

Luther, having been overwhelmed in his soul, thought that he was about to die. I read of the fit he was having and thought "I have been that ill before." My wife can testify to this. I was so overwhelmed and grieved in my soul I had stroke like symptoms and had to get an MRI done. These episodes had left me bedridden for days.

Speaking of Luther's condition, the editor makes this note:

""Martin Luther often experienced severe depression and torment of the soul. He did not doubt the existence of God, but doubted whether he was worthy. The German word for this condition is Anfechtung, and there is no comparable English translation. It can only be summed up as torment of the soul, but means much more than that. It is a feeling of utter isolation and depression, of panic and despair, of total unworthiness, the ultimate in lack of self-esteem before God (121)."

Tonight, before beginning my reading, I intentionally prayed to God for the first time that I can remember. In my despairing, and anxiety I asked for help once again.

I asked that God would help me to die. Not a physical death, but a death to the pursuit of fixing that which is broken within me. A death to the things that leave me so grieved and despairing that all I am capable of doing is seeking relief from their weight upon me.

Tonight, I have been given a word that describes my condition:
In having a description, I know how to call out to my God and ask him to save me from it.

"""""Whoever does not take up their cross and follow me is not worthy of me. Whoever finds their life will lose it, and whoever loses their life for my sake will find it."

Tonight I will seek to lose my life. I cannot carry Christ's burden while carrying my own. In losing my life, perhaps for the first time, I may live and have life abundantly. 

Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light.

My only hope is your promise, Oh God. 

Death to me is now a welcomed friend who brings peace and rest to my soul.
Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on me a sinner,
Amen

Why Neo-Reformed Evangelicals are so confused and angry

I had as of late considered myself to be a part of the neo-reformed movement. In adopting this posture, I found many inconsistencies, one of them having to do with the Christian experience of salvation. I had blogged about the discrepancy in several different ways, mostly in that I couldn't figure out where we began to champion intellectual ascent as the highest form of sanctification.

So is salvation simply an acknowledgment, a confession of a series of propositional truths? Is the Gospel as easy as A.B.C? I think that old acronym is "Accept, Believe, Confess." My salvation "experience" did not come from accepting these propositions. This might come as a relief to some of my evangelical readers who don't like what I have to say, being committed to the idea that a Christian must have a tangible salvation experience coupled with the acceptance of the propositional truths of "Jesus died for my sins and is therefore my personal savior"; alleviating their anxieties because they conclude that I must not be a Christian given said criteria.

The source of the confusion, as one my professors helped me to understand, is that Evangelicalism was a new kind of theology that was developed in America that had some unique characteristics. You can see this in an exchange between John Wesley and an American Moravian. In the exchange you'll find the clearly articulated tenants of evangelicalism, which at the time very much confused John Wesley:

“[August Spangenberg] said, ‘My brother, I must first ask you one or two questions. Do you have the witness within yourself? Does the Spirit of God bear witness with your spirit that you are a child of God?’ I was surprised, and did not know what to answer. He continued and asked: ‘Do you know Jesus Christ?’ I paused and said, ‘I know he is the Savior of the world.’ ‘True,’ he replied, ‘but do you know he has saved you?’ I answered, ‘I hope he has died to save me.’ He only added, ‘Do you know this yourself?’ I said, ‘I do,’ but I fear these words were in vain.” (Journal)

In Evangelicalism, the personal encounter and the development of a saving relationship with Jesus Christ are all that matter. Baptism, the Eucharist, even a confession of faith matter little (for such confession that I am referencing has been repeatedly dubbed by evangelicals as "mindless repetition"). These are things that, if we are to plumb down through Christian history, have great implications for what it means to be a Christian. Yet in evangelicalism, the experience trumps all. This was confusing to John Wesley, as would it have been confusing to all other Christians before this time.

But Evangelicalism is not a denomination (as Dr. Derek Cooper pointed out), it is "like water, spreading itself out across all denominations. It is possible to have evangelical Catholics and mainline protestant evangelicals as well."

By marrying the tenants of evangelicalism with reformed theology, which is the current trend among young evangelicals, you'll find a very confused group of people about what it means to be a Christian.

I'm not saying that this is the soul source of the suspicious and caustic eye with which young reformed evangelicals like myself look at, question, and virtually piss on anything that is not "reformed" with a kind of hubris that would make the devil blush, but it seems to be one of the reasons.

What inevitably happens is, the measure of a Christian becomes the adherence of the propositional truths of the reformed tradition. Deviate from those truths, and your peers will find it very hard to believe that you are (or ever were) a Christian.
 

The Rambling Confessions of a Recovering Racist

What I feel most convicted about is that there are institutions that continually teach Christians to keep their heads down in the Holy Book, all the while ignoring or propagating the injustices that flagrantly take place in our society, which the Holy Book would speak to should we raise our heads and open our eyes. This is what Howard Thurman's Book Jesus, and the Disinherited has opened my eyes to. Institutional racism, institutional segregation, and systematic oppression continue the cycle of generational incarceration and poverty across ethnic lines favoring the white populous and oppressing the minority population. I have come to see more and more of this through the stories my wife brought home by substitute teaching for nearly two years in an urban setting, and myself becoming a caseworker with a mentoring agency having at its disposal the disturbing statistics that span the generations and project the continuation of this cycle.

 I had always been taught that issues of racism have been done away with, and that oppression such as slavery was an institution of the past. I had been taught that whispers of modern oppression was only the result of a demographic who wanted to use their ancestral misfortunes to receive a free ride on our tab (that is, us white folk who have jobs and nice things). These were the tenants of a more diplomatic and political expression of what was, in all sincerity, outright hatred and racism concealed in clever semantics. Behind closed doors the racial epithets, disdain, condescension and mockery were no longer concealed. It is true then, that as racism has become less accepted over time in culture, it had to become more discreet and clever in its expression. I affirm this through my experiences.

The more I reside in the minority community however, the more I delve into the system of which I was/am apart, the more I heed the voices of modern prophets who articulate such systems, the more my eyes are opened and my stomach is turned.

My disgust arrives for this reason: Ecumenism (which is a strong conviction I have labor toward) is not enough. It is not enough for denominations to transcend differences, but rather ethnic boundaries must be transcended as well. The church in America remains the last segregated institution in the country. While I am sure that the statistics quoted by Thurman in The Protestant Church and the Negro by Frank S. Loescher are probably out dated, and though we may have made some strides in multiethnic congregations, the fact remains that the most segregated hour in America is still 11:00 AM on a Sunday morning.

Perhaps ecumenism is not enough, perhaps racial reconciliation must first begin by frank and honest conversations beginning in the church, the last remaining institution in the United States and elsewhere that is segregated.

Big Brother of the Year 2007 Nomination Statement

In 2007, I received the honor of Big Brother of year for the Commonwealth of Pennsylvania through the Big Brothers Big Sisters program of Lancaster County. One of my coworkers told me today that she stumbled upon this little gem. This was the nomination statement I submitted at the request of the agency. I can remember that Cheri had called me and said, "We’d like to nominate you for Big Brother of the year. Could you write three short paragraphs to these three questions?"

At that time, I was in college, working a part time job, and was the associate pastor of a small church. It was finals season as well. I said "Sure, I'll see what I can do." A week went by and Cheri called me again while I was in the library studying.

"I need your response to those questions, Ryan. They need to be submitted today."

"Alright," I said, "You'll have it in 10 minutes."

So I sat down at the table and wrote the following.

After-School Program Big Brother Ryan McGinnis - Nominee for Big Brother of the Year

• What motivated you to become a Big Brother?

            In answering this question, we must first ask another. What is the most valuable resource that you can give to someone? It is your time. It has been my experience growing up, that I would have rather had a father, than a comfortable life style. My parents were separated shortly after I was born, and while my father always paid his child support and helped my sister and I financially as much as he could, I wanted a dad, not financial security. I know that my story is not that much different from the majority of kids in America, but the implications for my parents decisions manifest itself throughout my life. There is a vacuum in our culture, an absence of strong male figures. While I make no claim that I myself am strong, I decided that I would do the work of pouring my life, and investing my time into someone and begin the process of relaying the foundation in someone else’s life. I wanted to be to a little brother, what I wished someone would have been for me.

• What has your experience been like?

            This experience would be difficult to define, as there were so many personal high’s and low’s. There is a sense of sadness for me, in receiving the honor of a nomination, because I feel as if all I did was show up, and do what was required of me. Not that which was required by Big Brothers and Big Sisters, but what was required of me by my convictions. Christian (my Little) was my friend, and to say the least, he was a good friend. I am thankful that he allowed me to be a part of his story. That’s the joy that I have in this experience, the establishment of a good friendship, and the hope that through this friendship I might have made a difference in him.

• What has been the high point in your relationship with your Little?

            The best time that I had with Christian, was his last day at Big Brothers and Big Sisters. He was moving, and so the leaders put together a celebration for Christian to say goodbye. We played tag, and Christian and I were the last people to be tug. As we stood there on base waiting to make our dash in avoidance of ten or so other bigs and littles, I ran and picked Christian up and sprinted across the gymnasium and avoided being tug. I got to pray for Christian before he left, and it surprised me what came out of my mouth. I was not so thankful at the thought of what I might have taught Christian, but I thanked God for all the things that he has taught me. That by doing this work, a work which is worth doing, I myself have changed greatly.

I would like to note that when I composed this I was very bitter toward my father. While the words that I wrote were not untrue, the sentiment towards my father has changed significantly since this time.

I still look back at this and cannot figure out how or why I recieved this honor. I do not say this with a false sense of self depricating humility, I say it because I do not think much of myself. Yet, somehow, someone else thought enough to nominate me, and someone else still thought enough to select me.  

Not under your shadow but under mine

I had the privilege of being the best man at my fathers wedding this past Saturday. I am very happy for him and his new bride. I learned something that night that was worth noting.

I begin my story by stating an observation: There are many things that are shared in circumstances such as mine. When I meet a person who grew up in a broken home, with an absent father the stories and difficulties are much the same.

One shared experience is that a person always lets the absent parent "off the hook" when it comes to doing the work of confronting the injustices of a childhood. The child, later becoming an adult, always vents their frustration on the present parent and their current spouse, condemning them as the enemy and source of conflict. The absent parent however is typically free of criticism, and the consensus seems to be that the absence in the relationship creates an elevating of that parent beyond reproach. Any time an individual is elevated beyond a status that they do not deserve in someone's mind, the person grows to resent that individual though they are never permitted to express this grievance.

The reason that we cannot fully express this animosity is realizing that should we do so, we may lose the relationship that we desire with that parent... that elusive relationship that we are always pursuing yet is never fully satisfied.

But I digress...

All of these years I was never under the shadow of my father, he was under mine. I gave the toast at the wedding, and everyone spoke highly of me to my father. He and I both had a deep affection for one Mazie McGinnis; his mother; my grandmother. As everyone is telling my father their fondness of my toast, he shares with them some insight left to him by his mother concerning me:
She told him...

"He (me, Ryan) was the son I always wanted."

We retell such stories in jest. My father and I both have an uncomfortable sense of humor when we are nervous, agitated, or hurt. It's sufficient enough for masking our true selves. While reflecting on this I realized that my father and I share much more in common than our jaded sense of humor, we both wrestle with our inadequacies.

There is no joy in putting him "on the hook" (or anyone for that matter) for what cannot be changed. Over the last few years I have seen enough to know that he has placed himself on a hook grieved by the choices that he has made and the ramifications thereof. He has conveyed that his absence weighs heavily on him. What does it profit me to punish him more?

The past cannot be changed, it can only be reconciled. Transgressions cannot be atoned, they can only be forgiven. My memories cannot be changed, and thus what was therein can only be grieved.

I will sing a dirge for them in such moments, but in all others I will rejoice for there is still life to be lived. That is, there is time that I can share with my father. Though that time can never replace what has been lost, it matters all the same.

Congratulations Pop, to you and your new bride:
All the ineffable blessings that my vocabulary lacks in ability to bestow upon you both
Your son, upon whom and from whom no shadow has been cast, only my sincerest affections and appreciation,
Ryan