Celebrating the Mystery of Faith

Christianity is a religion of paradox because without faith, there is no true Christianity. Think about it: A paradox is defined as “a statement that seems contradictory, unbelievable, or absurd but that may be true in fact.”

Christians are a people of paradox because they believe to be true what appears in the natural to be unbelievable or absurd.

Bible scholar A.W. Pink wrote that “there are many paradoxes in the Christian life, which are quite unintelligible to the wise of this world. That man has to become a fool in order to be wise (1 Cor. 3:18), that he has to become a pauper in order to be made rich (Matt. 5:3), that he has to be made weak in order to become strong (2 Cor. 12:10), are enigmas that proud philosophers cannot elucidate.”

Several weeks ago, Christians celebrated the ultimate in paradox: God became fully human that by his death and resurrection they might live forever with him.

On Sunday, June 1, the church celebrates another paradox: The Ascension of the Lord.

Jesus told his disciples it would be better for them that he leave them. I can imagine them looking squint-eyed at Jesus and saying, “What?!”

Here’s another paradox: By leaving them, Jesus could be more available to them. Now, because of Pentecost, which Christians celebrate on June 8, Jesus would be with and in them. True transformation could take place because of Jesus’ absence.

It’s all about paradox and faith, isn't it?

If committed Christians appear a bit strange, even out of place in this world, could it be because they are living this paradoxical faith in earnest? They are joyful because they mourn, free because they are bound, peaceful because they have been broken.

But make no mistake about it, living this faith has its dangers.

An ancient letter describes the paradoxical lives of early Christians: “They live in their own countries as though they were only passing through. They play their full role as citizens, but labor under all the disabilities of aliens…They live in the flesh, but they are not governed by the desires of the flesh…They pass their days on earth, but they are citizens of heaven…Condemned because they are not understood, they are put to death, but raised to life again.”

Anyone who lives this faith full on will tell you that though it’s an exhilarating life, it is also peppered with trials and tribulations. That’s because it’s a life lived on the boundary between this world and the next. Walking that line is an act of faith.

Ponder how the Danish theologian and philosopher Soren Kierkegaard summarized this mystery that is inherent in Christianity: “The paradox in Christian truth is invariably due to the fact that it is the truth that exists for God. The standard of measure and the end is superhuman; and there is only one relationship possible: faith.”

For Christians looking to Ascension Sunday and Pentecost, embracing the paradox requires walking by faith in a life that celebrates the mystery, even though it’s surrounded by many “dangers, toils, and snares.”

It’s no longer a question of if: Climate change is here

During summer breaks my last two years in college, I sold cemetery property door to door in Houston, Texas. One of my favorite sales pitches was the line, “It’s not a matter of if, but when and where and under what circumstances you will need cemetery property.”

I am not a salesperson trying to convince people that global warming (the very words make some people bristle) is “out there,” like death awaiting us someday in the future. In fact, it’s not a matter of “if” you will experience it in your lifetime. That’s because the “when” has arrived. And unless we respond in appropriate ways, the “circumstances” will only get worse for us and Mother Earth.

That’s essentially the message the latest National Climate Assessment made public earlier this month. Most climate reports, relying heavily on projections, try and cast predictions for the future. This 1,300 page document, the result of some 300 scientists over four years, focused on changes already underway.

From farmers in the Midwest planting earlier because of shorter winters to extreme drought and fires in the Southwest to torrential rains and flooding in the Southeast, the report assesses changes already affecting every region of the United States.

The state where I live, Kentucky, has fared better than other parts of the nation, like where I grew up, Oklahoma, which has experienced drought and water shortages in some areas. But every region has in some way been affected.

Less than a week after this jolt of realism, two new scientific studies, in the journals Science and Geophysical Research Letters, reported that the retreat of ice in major glaciers that are part of the West Antarctic ice sheet appear to be unstoppable with the result that sea levels will rise one more meter worldwide. What’s more, the shrinking of these glaciers could trigger the collapse of the rest of the West Antarctic ice sheet raising sea levels another three to five meters.  It all may take a couple of centuries, but the demise of West Antarctica’s sea sector appears inevitable.

“It’s not a matter of if…” I thought as I heard these alarming reports.

Our options are not pleasant: We can ignore the scientific evidence, but to so would involve buying into a conspiracy theory that thousands of scientists from around the world are in collusion to intentionally misrepresent what they know to be false.

We can agree that there is something called climate change but that it is not human-made, that God or Mother Nature will correct the problem, and therefore we should do nothing.

But, as Los Angeles Times columnist Doyle McManus observes, “Noah’s flood wasn't man-made, but he still spent the money (or at least the timber) to build an ark.”

Or we can face the sobering truth:  Carbon emissions have resulted in catastrophic damage to our climate. Consider that 97 percent of climatologists who are active in research agree that humans have played a role in climate change.

I may feel small and helpless in all this. All my recycling, growing an organic garden, composting, conserving energy seem to be of no avail. Even if I rode a bike to work, what difference would it make?

And yet I refuse to lose hope that small efforts can make a difference. Though we may have to suffer consequences for how we have abused God’s creation, reversals can be made. We can help repair the Giving Tree we have so carelessly ravaged.

But it won’t happen if we ignore the scientific facts that won’t go away. We must do what we can where we can with all we can.

William Wilberforce, who fought in the late 18^th century for the abolition of slavery in Great Britain, faced seemingly insurmountable odds. The economics of slavery were so entrenched that only a handful of people thought anything could be done about it. Yet even though he was defeated time and time again, his efforts led to the Slavery Abolition Act in 1833, which abolished slavery in most of the British Empire.

It was Wilberforce who said, “You may choose to look the other way but you can never say again that you did not know.” 

That’s where we are in regard to climate change. Whatever we choose to do, we can never tell our grandchildren we did not know.

“This dream was not for sale”

Even if you’re not a horse racing fan, you've got to love the story of how this year’s Kentucky Derby winner, California Chrome, fulfilled the dream of his owners, Steve Coburn and Perry Martin. It’s a story that inspires us to dream big and take the necessary steps to give dreams a chance of being realized.

After the Derby victory, Coburn couldn’t stop staring at the replay of the race. When a reporter asked him what he was thinking about, Coburn simply said, “Our dream child doing exactly what we thought he could do when he was a baby.”

Maybe by now you’ve read about the story that explains his comment. Several years ago Coburn was thinking about buying an air plane as a tax write-off. But that was a bit too expensive for his relative modest means. So Coburn’s wife decided they should buy a horse instead. For $8,000 they purchased a mare named Love the Chase and for $2,500 bred her with a stallion named Lucky Pulpit. From that union California Chrome was born.

Three weeks before Love the Chase gave birth to California Chrome, Coburn had a dream. He could see what the horse would look like and even how he would act.

Coburn believed his dream child was destined to win the Kentucky Derby. Before the race, he told reporters, “I know in my heart that this horse is just as good, if not better, than any horse out there today.”

One measure of how serious a person is in seeing a dream fulfilled is to find what it would take to give up on it.

Shortly after the March 8 San Felipe Stakes, Coburn and Martin were offered $6 million for 51 percent of California Chrome.  That’s more than just a chunk of change to most people, including Coburn and Martin. Indeed, they had sunk their life savings and retirement in getting California Chrome to the races.

But if they took the offer, they would have had to change the horse’s silks and replace the 77 year old trainer, Art Sherman (now the oldest trainer to win the Kentucky Derby).

And in their minds, California Chrome would no longer have been their “dream baby.”

When asked why they wouldn't sell, Coburn’s answer was simple: “Because this is our dream.” (Coburn elaborated to reporters that he told those making the offer, “Not only no, but hell no.”)

It was Olympic athlete Jesse Owens who said, “We all have dreams. But in order to make dreams come into reality, it takes an awful lot of determination, dedication, self-discipline, and effort.”

Co-owners Coburn and Martin and trainer Sherman didn’t just dream, they believed it, they saw it, they planned it, and they worked it.

And they wouldn't allow their dream to wear a “for sale” sign.

Jack Canfield (Chicken Soup for the Soul) tells the story of Monty, the son of an itinerant horse trainer. Monty dreamed of owning his own horse ranch. For his writing project during his senior year in high school, Monty wrote about his dream. His seven page paper described his 200 acre ranch in precise detail, complete with a diagram of the ranch and a floor plan for his 4,000 square foot ranch house.

The teacher scribbled an “F” on the paper. 

Monty went to the teacher and asked why the paper had received a failing mark. The grammar and syntax were fine, the teacher acknowledged. But he told Monty the dream itself was unrealistic. Then, he explained to Monty why the dream was impossible and offered to re-grade the paper if Monty would write another one with a more realistic dream. 

After thinking about it for a week, Monty turned the same paper back to the teacher and told him: “You can keep the F, and I’ll keep my dream.”

The true story ends years later with this same teacher taking his students on a field trip to a 200 acre ranch with a 4,000 square foot house owned by a now grown and successful Monty.

No one knows, of course, if the Kentucky Derby will be the last victory for California Chrome or if it’s his first win toward winning the Triple Crown.

But one thing is for sure: He has already made believers out of doubters because his owners were willing to risk it all and tell potential buyers: “You can keep the money; we’ll keep our dream.”

The victory of staying with it

The year was 1965. We---my mother, dad, and older brother, Mark--- had just finished supper.

That’s when Eric called to speak to Mark.

Just a few hours before, I had been playing football on the sandlot team Mark had formed after I had hounded him to do so. The sandlot team was my only hope of playing, since I was still too young for Washington Elementary School’s football team.  Eric was even younger than I was. Mark was the perfect coach for our team. After all, he played football for the mighty Bulldogs of Altus High. He coached us up, and even scheduled a game with another team that one of his football buddies had formed.

Then Eric called.

I perked up and tried to hear what he was saying.

Eric had a slight speech impediment and couldn’t pronounce his “r’s.” Besides that, his voice sounded nervous, like he was afraid to say whatever it was he was going to say. He could barely get a word out, as if he were chewing on each letter, stretching Mark’s one syllable name into three.

 “Ma-a-k,” Eric stammered.

“Yes, Eric,” Mark said.

“Ma-a-k,” Eric repeated.

“Yes, Eric,” Mark said again.

“Ma-a-k,” Eric said a third time.

“Yes, Eric, what is it you are trying to say?”

And then all at once, so quickly I almost missed it, in a rapid fire response Eric spit out the words, finally stating the reason for his call: “I wanna quit.”

That was it, not good news, for we would have to find another kid for Eric’s position, and our game was just a few days away. We wondered, should we give it up and disband the team? Quitting seemed easier than finding a replacement for Eric.

Quitting is almost always easier than enduring.

I heard a story about a prominent pastor who abruptly resigned. He wasn’t leaving for another church: He was leaving the ministry altogether.

His congregation was shocked. It was a good church; he was well liked; his salary was sufficient.  

When they asked him why, he simply said, “The relentless return of Sunday.”

For you it may be the relentless return of Monday. Or the deafening sound of silence at the dinner table, where you meet each evening with that person you no longer seem to know or care for. Or maybe it’s the daily screech of the rusty medicine cabinet door, reminding you that your illness is not going away, that your life is grinding down.

True, sometimes walking away is the best thing to do; it can even be more courageous than staying.

Some relationships need to die; it’s best to leave some jobs; and we outgrow some hobbies.

There is a time to quit.

But not often. Or easily.

Quitting can become a way of life, if we let it.

When Seinfeld’s George Costanza (Jason Alexander) managed to get fired from his volunteer job at the retirement home, he encouraged Jerry and Elaine to quit and join him:  "Yeah, I'm a great quitter: It's one of the few things I do well. ... I come from a long line of quitters. My father was a quitter, my grandfather was a quitter. ... I was raised to give up."

The world most of us live in doesn’t permit us to do only what we want and give up the rest.

Jay Kesler, President Emeritus of Taylor University, wrote that his experience in life suggests that maybe 15 percent of our time is spent doing the things we love, and about 15 percent of the time we do the things we hate but are required to do.

 “The remaining majority of the time,” he observed, “is spent just doggedly getting your work done, going through the routine, fulfilling obligations, and keeping promises.”

Not every Sunday is Easter Sunday: Crowds come and go, but the call to obedience remains.

And with it comes joy, when we refuse to give up.

Maybe quitting our team was the right thing for young Eric to do. Football may not have been his sport.

But it was meant for us to persevere and play the cross-town rival on a crisp Saturday in late September. Eddie Carder did suffer a dislocated thumb; I took a shot on the chin; Jimmy Coker scraped a knee; and thanks to a girl, Kelly Copeland, who much to our surprise could play with the best of the guys, we found a fine replacement for Eric.

And yes, we won the game.

But the lesson I learned in the process was much larger than winning a sandlot football game.

The option of quitting may look like sweet relief.

But staying with it is a victory regardless of the scoreboard