Thought and revelation

Think over what I say, for the Lord will give you understanding in everything.
(2 Timothy 2:7 ESV)

I’m going to be making an attempt to blog more about some of the things I’ve been thinking about recently, and in particular, ideas I’m understanding from the Bible. So this is a start and probably an excellent point from which to start.

Paul gives this instruction to Timothy and I think there’s a lot to be found in it. There’s a place for thinking in faith. That in itself may not seem like a profound thing to say but it’s an important thing to say these days. For one, I’ve interacted with several people recently enough who look down on faith, and see it as something that belonged to primitive times and the “dark ages” before we understood the world around us as much as we do now. It’s as if they see faith or religion as an alternative to thought and intelligence, and a poor substitute too.

And church doesn’t necessarily help either. I have the strong impression that many people in church are taught to fight to believe concepts, and it feels akin to a flexing of a muscle – a straining to lift something. I don’t often hear a strong emphasis on growing in understanding, much less encouraging and teaching people to think. So if the Christian faith does not appear to non-Christians as a particularly thoughtful place, I think Christians are at least partially to blame.

But Paul does a lot more here than authorize or commend thinking. He establishes the relationship between thought and revelation. That’s really important in the post-charismatic environment I’m a part of. I know a lot of Christians who aren’t particularly inclined towards the hard work of thought, but are very interested in revelation. And again there’s this idea floating around in the atmosphere somewhere, that revelation falls from the sky. It suggests that you might drop if you have a particularly good and powerful time with God on your own or a great prayer meeting or worship session. I’m not attacking the value of personal devotions or prayer meetings or worship sessions. I’m attacking the suggestion that how God reveals himself is that you’ll suddenly just “know” – out of the blue (or rather out of heaven) you’ll just know whatever you wanted to know or whatever you’re supposed to know. My problem with this “floating idea” is that it does not seem to suggest a connection between thought and revelation, and rarely even suggests a connection between thoughtfully reading and study of the Bible and revelation. In fact, you might get the impression from it that thought is the enemy of revelation. You might think that thought gets in the way of getting understanding from God.

Hearing what Paul is saying will save us from those kinds of floating ideas. Paul does not pit thinking – the using of our brains – against receiving understanding from God (which is by definition, revelation). Admittedly there’s the potential for a battle here. The Bible teaches us not to rely on our own understanding. It teaches us the insufficiency of our own wisdom. It teaches that the natural mind cannot understand spiritual things. So in one sense it’s understandable why some church-goers and teachers would seem to deemphasize thought in the way they do. At a glance it doesn’t look that helpful and actually seems a to be a threat to our potential to understand God. It doesn’t look like a useful tool in this “spiritual” environment. But Paul in a wonderfully succinct way, shows us how thought and revelation are meant to work together. “Think… for the Lord will give you understanding…”  We are to apply our minds to the Bible with the expectation that God will give us insight and understanding. I’m making a big, but entirely reasonable extrapolation of “what I say” to become the scriptures as a whole. If you read more of what Paul says in this letter, the basis for that extrapolation becomes clear.

We are to think about what God says in the Bible. And Paul tells us what that should look like. We’re to think with a posture that is expecting and asking God to show us “wonderful things in [his] word” (Ps 119:18). So Paul, while definitely pushing us to think, leads us away from depending on the sufficiency of our own minds in order to understand the things of God. This is humble thinking, because from the outset, it recognizes that it can’t understand if God does not speak, and it can’t know if God does not reveal. So it must be asking questions about what the Bible says. It knows it’s not supposed just “get it”. I’m amazed how many people read the Bible and have no questions, or suffer under the impression that it is bad thing to have questions. This type of thinking keeps in mind the fact that understanding of God and the things of God is a gift from God. So it therefore must be prayerful because asking and receiving are related.

So Paul has given us a lot but there’s one more spectacular gift here. Hope. Paul teaches us that God will give understanding in everything. Even though this was written to Timothy, the basis of Paul’s guarantee to Timothy is a God revealed throughout the scriptures, who is committed to revealing himself to those who seek him, so this promise definitely extends to all who follow Jesus. So we can read and think and know that God will give understanding. It might take a while and it might be really frustrating at times but God will give understanding. It’s a guarantee. So I’ll end by echoing the Psalmist in Psalm 70:4:-

May all who seek you

rejoice and be glad in you!

Faith the size of a changing table?

One of the weird and interesting parts of parenting is how many lessons I learn in mundane things. I was changing Maia last week for the umpteenth time (can anyone actually keep track of the number of diapers they’ve changed? Thanks mum and dad. Serious. Thanks!) and I noticed that she’s barely fitting on the changing table now. I looked at her, from head to toe, lying there still for once – which meant I wasn’t fighting with her to keep her from grabbing the diaper, soiled with one or both numbers, from under her so that she could “explore” it – and it dawned on me how much she has grown.

I’ve found myself looking at her down on the ground stretching up to me or to Sam and thinking thoughts like “Boy, she’s small.” And “shouldn’t she be a bit taller than that by now?” And “has she grown in the last few months?” It’s a problem of proximity. Because I see her everyday it’s hard to look at her and recognize progress in terms of height. She looks very much the same. Other people, every now and then, comment that something or the other has changed, and I shrug and take their word for it.

But viewing her through the lense of the changing table – now I want to point out that I could go in a lot of directions from here. I’ve already started the “seeing” Maia through the changing table” metaphor. I could do the whole “un-changing changing table” thing. Temptation acknowledged. Choice of metaphor and style of expression aside, I finally was able to recognize how much taller she was. I vividly remember putting her on that changing table when she was a few weeks old – partially because one of her godmother’s was cautioning me about doing something wrong. I remember the fact that it didn’t matter that much whether her head was close to the top or in the middle of the pad. She would fit with so much room anyway. She’s much taller than she was then. I know it sounds obvious, but there’s a difference between accepting a fact because it must be so, and seeing it. The seeing does something that the accepting can’t. You marvel at things when you can see things for yourself.

So the lesson I had in mind when I started this post was about the way faith grows slowly and imperceptibly, much like Maia. I am so close to my faith, carrying it each day, impatient with it and often looking down on it, that I can’t see if it’s growing. It takes some reference point, some object to give a vantage point from which I can compare what it was to what it is, for me to see it’s growth. And that’s what tests are for. And I’m going through my fair share. Tests… much too nice a word for how they feel. Trials carries a bit more weight for me. Tribulations is chock-full of King Jamesy substantiveness and emotion. Tests definitely is too lightweight.

So I see much better through the changing table what Peter is saying when he says:-

“…now for a little while, if necessary, you have been grieved by various trials, so that the tested genuineness of your faith—more precious than gold that perishes though it is tested by fire—may be found to result in praise and glory and honor at the revelation of Jesus Christ.” 1 Peter 1:6b-7

This hard slog is necessary if my faith is going to be shown to be genuine and is going to be shown to be growing, so that Jesus gets all the accolades he deserves.

The lesson I didn’t have in mind is how faith allows you to see. You can be handling the same facts and information and it’s not doing anything much for you or in you until, by faith, you see it – you’re convinced of it in a way you weren’t and you’re enthralled by it. And it barely makes sense, because all of the pieces were right in front of you, but you didn’t see it. I think that’s how faith naturally results in worship – which in itself seems to be inexplicable to those who can’t see it.

So to all the Saints – hold on in faith.  This ride will be over before we know it and we’ll be home and happy.

I’m beginning to suspect…

I’m beginning to suspect that a significant number of my future posts will in some way be about God and my thoughts about him. Those who know me best right now know that by virtue of pre-disposition (to some level) as well as “situation” (I won’t shed light on situation right now… sometime soon I promise), I think a lot about God, from both philosophical and theological angles, and about the things I’m learning in the Bible. So since I’ve widened my concept of what this blog should be about I expect a lot of those topics to become a part of it.

In saying that I realize that I want to be seen as “normal” (who is “normal” really?), whatever that means. I guess what I mean is that I want to be seen as a regular person despite having many and sometimes complex thoughts about God, something which I not sure can be considered “regular”. I guess it would be irregular if that appeared to be the only dimension of my thoughts or if it appeared to be too narrow a focus, never affecting the rest of life. I’m not sure what to do with that desire, but there it is for the world to see. Enough talk of “regularity”, lest I be misunderstood to be referring to something else. I would promise not to ever blog about that type of regularity but I won’t, just to keep my options open.

I’m beginning to suspect some people grow weak in their ability to think things through – their logic muscles begin to waste away – because they are seen by others as authorities. They no longer need to explain themselves carefully and clearly in order for their audience to find them compelling – their audience believes in them perhaps because of position or the giftings they are perceived to possess – therefore they no longer have the need to think clearly and carefully either. That’s par for the course when it comes to politicians and their supporters, I’d guess. I might even be desirable. It’s disastrous for both them and their audiences when it happens to preachers though, and it is something I think they should fight desperately against.

I suspect another category of people (not necessarily mutually exclusive of the first) decay in a similar way because they’ve long decided what is what and they only esteem those who agree with them, and therefore surround themselves with such people. As a result they are rarely put in a position where they need to present and defend their positions (among those who think alike, you only need to refer to a position) and therefore have become lazy in their thinking.I suspect these things because I’ve experienced both sorts of weakness and laziness over the past several months.

I’m beginning to suspect (and I guess this would be a “child” suspicion of the “parent” suspicions above) that being where I am right now – the outsider, the untrusted, the one whose ideas people are suspicious of (there’s a lot of suspicion in this post) – is actually a great place to be for my growth and mental sharpness. I don’t think there are many around me who accept what I say because I, Joel Bain, said it. I could be wrong, but that’s how I feel. Because I feel that way it shapes my behaviour. It puts me in a position where I must carefully think through what I teach or suggest because I fully expect it to be challenged. So I’m always asking myself “Does this stand up to examination? Have I thought this through properly? Is is biblical (in the case of teaching the Bible) and logical and reasonable (in the case of arguments of a more philosophical nature, as well as in the case of teaching the Bible)? What might be some of the objections to this perspective?” I suspect that a part of the suspicion that surrounds me comes from the fact that some of the things I advance are so different from what those around me are comfortable with. In any case, real or perceived I suspect it’s very good for my growth and mental fitness. So thank  you God for hostile, or at the very least, unwelcoming environments.

I’m beginning to suspect that I was wrong in thinking this would be a particularly short post…

I’m beginning to suspect that the teaching and Biblical understanding of the sovereignty of God has inadvertently been trampled under a postmodern notion of the love of God – a notion which out of necessity marginalizes sovereignty to make room for itself. “Good Christians” of course, give lip service to sovereignty but there is little awe and worship, and very few find comfort and security in it, the way they hope in and hide in their notion of God’s love. I’m beginning to suspect that that is an error we’ll come to regret because there’s so much truth, really useful and practical truth, caught up in and built on a correct understanding of God’s sovereignty. I strongly suspect that I should add a sub-category under the category “God” for “sovereignty” because it’s going to come up again soon. Done.

I suspect that Maia will wake up very soon, so I figure if I want to post this today I should do so now.

Happy Saturday.

Bedtime Prayers

For the last several weeks we’ve been trying to get Maia to fall asleep more independently… to be precise, we’ve been trying to get her to fall asleep without the aid of breastfeeding or car rides. So, just in case it crossed your mind, yes, there are bedtime prayers prayed by Sam and myself along the lines of “Lord, let her stay down this time pleeeeazzz!” and “Oh Lord, not again!” (if you count the second type as a prayer rather than a complaint). And no, those are not really the ones I’m referring to.

Here’s what the bedtime routine is looking like now:-

• Goodnight’s to mummy (and anyone else around at the time)
• the brushing of the 5 teeth that have blazed a trail into the visible world by venturing out from underneath the gums… the same 5 teeth that she bit me on the leg with this afternoon (sigh)
• lying down in the crib while I sing her the bedtime song of the night (what I mean is she’s lying down… not me or the both of us), which is either a modified (read honed and improved) version of last night’s song or one fresh off the top of the head (the benefit/disadvantage of having a father who is a songwriter)
• and lastly, the bedtime prayer – which these days includes a spontaneous one of thanksgiving and requests as well as a traditional prayer.

So at last I’ve reached the point of this post – the traditional prayer. The first night I put Maia to bed in this way, by some sort of reflex or conditioning I thought to repeat a children’s bedtime prayer for her. The fact that I felt that way took me a bit by surprise, because among all the things one considers when you’re going to become a parent, or have become one, I don’t recall once trying to plan a bedtime routine before we started trying it. On the other hand it’s not that surprising considering my upbringing. Plus I’ve found that once I started parenting, I started to do all sorts of things that were done to me,  even things I recall not liking. Funny how that works.

What definitely took me off guard was the prayer I repeated. It was the first one that came to my mind and truth-be-told the only one so far that’s not hazy in my memory.

Now I lay me down to sleep
I pray the Lord my soul to keep
If I should die before I wake
I pray the Lord my soul to take

Apparently it’s a classic 18th century children’s prayer. So I start to repeat it for Maia and I hear myself, and I’m a bit shocked. Does it strike you as a tad bit morbid for a children’s prayer? It felt that way to me on saying it again for the first time in… many years.  Death as a prominent theme in such a short prayer? I mean I know there’s the need to teach your children about death, but seriously? So I thought about it.

Near the start of the year I read Psalm 3 and I was very struck by verse 5:-

I lay down and slept;
I woke again, for the Lord sustained me.

I realize that I, like most people I would figure, have come to take waking up for granted… as if it “should be”… as if it just happens. Worse than than, some mornings I’m actually a bit annoyed to be awake and to have to face the day. Even though the context is one in which David is dealing with enemies, I recognize that he’s celebrating the truth that each night’s sleep that we wake up from is because God sustained us (as compared to thinking that God is only “on duty” on the nights when we are aware of danger). It’s something to give God thanks for. I think it’s good to ask for it too, rather than just take it for granted that we will wake up the next morning.

I’ve repeated that prayer several times since that first time and I’ve come to think that it’s not morbid at all. It’s might be a little more “real” than we like being a lot of the time but I think that’s the extent of its crime, if that’s a crime at all. Death is a reality and none of us know when we will die. We hope our children outlive us but that doesn’t always happen. If Maia should die I do pray that God would take her soul. I don’t have a greatly developed theological position on what happens to infants who die but I do have a deep trust in God’s goodness and wisdom.  So I pray that God would keep her and that if he decides that it is best she die, that he would take her to himself. And I pray that when she’s old enough to understand that she would, by grace, have faith in him and that he would keep her walking the difficult path of faith until he takes her to himself.

These days I’m praying that I will grow to be more grateful, more consistently, for life and for sleep and for waking up.  I’m also praying that God would give me grace to honour and please him each day he sustains my life, which seems to me to be a reasonable way to live if I am genuinely grateful.

Interestingly I found that the last verse in Psalm 4 echoed the theme that caught my interest in Psalm 3:-

In peace I will both lie down and sleep;
For you alone, O Lord, make me dwell in safety.

Good night. Now I lay me down to sleep…

I’m back… an appropriate title

The last time I blogged was January 21, 2009. Well, that’s not entirely true. That was the last time I wrote anything for my own blog. I did a couple of entries for a dream that died while being brought to life – a concert I was involved in planning (we had a website and blog associated with it) – in September 2009. I think a small part of me is still mourning its death. It’s as if it’s sitting on the shoulder of my shadow and it looks me in the eye sometimes when I look back. It stings from time to time but I’m convinced it’s an ally rather than an enemy. I’m not as afraid of failure anymore, having now done it in such style. So I walk forward with it in tow behind me.

Updates

Having not blogged in such a long time a general update is warranted. I’m still running my own business and, I think, getting better at it each month. It’s making me “responsible”, which is a big thing for a person given to being as sporadic and inspiration-driven as I am (I only claim an “artistic temperament” for myself when a situation makes it a greatly convenient stereotype).

Maia, me (Joel) and Sam - Nov 2009

Family and marriage is stable. I’m beginning to embrace how much work and attention it takes to make it good. Maybe its a bit like gardening, but I’m only guessing since I haven’t done much of that. It seems to me to be a good analogy, despite my near total lack of hands-on experience. But I am embracing the need for more work and I’ve started to work.

Maia is growing like a weed – a simile which now suffers an undeserved worsening of its reputation the light of the above paragraph. Growing like a pleasant, enjoyable plant or vine? That doesn’t pop at all. To quote some random client I don’t know, it  ”needs wa-wa-woom!” “Weed” has that “wa-wa-woom” in my opinion, but it clashes with gardening completely. Suffice to say Maia is growing fast and learning fast – both very good lessons and some we’ll need to stamp out. She’s taken to opening the fridge and looking for stuff she wants (even if she has not idea how to prepare it). Parenting is challenging but I’m very grateful for her and for all I’m learning.

I’m trying to read through the Bible this year. I’m reasonable sure I’ve read everything in it but I’m trying to do so in a systematic way. So far so good. I’ve had some good times, and (maybe strangely enough) I’ve been enjoying the Old Testament more than the New. I’m still struggling to have a regular time that I spend with God, especially because getting up early seems completely unreasonable when you’ve been up even earlier negotiating with Maia. I’ve embraced the fight though. He rewards those who seek Him. Nobody said it was easy.

This blog was supposed to be about songwriting and music. It was supposed to chronicle a finite project, that I expected would have finished already. I’ve decided that is should just be a blog. I’ll still blog about music, but I’ve decided I should blog about life.

I might need to do a “how’s the music going?” post. I’m amazed a the number of people who still ask me that. I don’t feel like much of a musician, with how little I’ve accomplished in the last several years. Maybe I should take it as encouraging that so many people still see me as one. In any case the really short update is that there have been some songs and a lot of ideas in the last many months. I have new goals to pursue and people who are (hopefully still) interested in pursuing them with me. I’m growing as a writer and I’m curious to see what I’m becoming. Stylistically no two songs are that much alike now. But perhaps I’m too close to the work. Maybe if I can back off and hear it I’ll hear the similarities instead of the differences.

Where from here?

More blogging, more songwriting, more Bible-reading (and more reflections coming from that), more opinions on the things that catch my interests long enough to think about them seriously, etc. Let’s see what this becomes. I’m back.