Faith, Confidence, and Sanity: The Christian Worldview

One of the more significant changes shaping my immediate future is the fact that my band will be headed down to Nashville in just a few short weeks to record our debut album with Jerry Guidroz of Radiant Records (the producer behind Neal Morse and Transatlantic).  Without going into too much detail, the album we're working on is very much concerned with the legitimacy of faith (specifically the Christian faith) as a worldview.  It's essentially a microcosm of the world's pursuit of knowledge: the quest for true enlightenment which explores all avenues of thought, but that can only be found  -- as we believe -- in the person of Jesus Christ.  Geoff (keys and vocals) is the frontman and primary writer of The Twenty Committee's material, but as we got into the heart of the project, he and I began partnering on the lyrics -- especially those depicting the grungy independence of man and his scorn for all things intangible, things that even include faith, love, and hope.

As I stared at the blinking cursor on my computer screen, pondering the instability of faithless existence, I found myself reminded of a simple statement made by Dr. David Powlison during the 2011 CCEF conference.  A very simple statement -- three words, unrefined, no pretense.

"Prayer is sanity."

So concise, and in its directness, so poignant.  In the grandiose Louisville ballroom in which my wife (then, not yet my fiancé) and I were sitting, surrounded by thousands of counselors-in-training, the simple phrase passed over us like a wave -- not a whitecap which crashes over a swimmer and leaves him stunned, but a warm swell which buoys him gently above the sandy ocean floor.  As I remember that moment now, and realize the echoed sentiment in the rough lyrics of our nearly completed concept album, it strikes me that arguments for faith severely underemphasize one of the most important and most beautiful elements of the Christian belief.

Faith, even as an objective principle, is one of the most misunderstood concepts of our modern age.  Portrayed as mysticism at its worst and irrational confidence at its best, faith pertaining to any religion has become antithetical to educated thinking.  To the modern scientific community -- a generation raised during the era of Wikipedia, genetic cloning, and subsequent failed Harold Camping prophecies -- faith-based living is as quaint and outdated a practice as bloodletting.  To the post-Christian society in which we live, archaic religious thinking may at best hold some worthwhile grains of truth, but ultimately remains the equivalent of retaining belief in Santa Claus as an adult.

Understandably, popular misconceptions arise from the fact that faith as a principle always incorporates some form of not-knowing.  In other words, faith necessarily requires some element of trust which supersedes understanding.  Calvin's decision to go back inside and watch TV in the unsettling face of the unknown is a perfect example: man wants concrete proof that he is not alone in the universe and cannot accept the possibility that his own eyes might not be able to observe a supernatural reality.  Furthermore, when the overlooked plights of our world are taken into consideration -- our indomitable pride, our idol of independence and our obsession with control -- it isn't surprising that the world would rather place its belief in something concrete like science which defines the universe by expressly non-theistic standards.  It's terrifying to place confidence in something external to ourselves when what we value is our own knowledge and ability.  To sacrifice that for something which is intangible, something that you know in your heart but cannot prove beyond a shadow of a doubt to anyone (not even yourself) is tantamount to declaring mental instability.  In that regard, the popular debate between faith and science -- above all else -- is an argument over control.  It is a war between man's sense of pride and his dependence upon something greater than himself.

But the fact of the matter is that faith is not simply taking a step out into nothingness.  Biblical hope retains no element of uncertainty - it is a hope that knows and trusts, and ultimately experiences true peace.  That is the truth which forms the bedrock upon which the Christian stands.  Faith is not hoping God can, it's knowing that He will, which is certainly a pithy saying worthy of a wall plaque, but it is also the truth which allows us to see the rain as a blessing and the storm as an instruction manual.  Hebrews 11 defines faith as the "assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen."  In other words, while faith acknowledges that there are things we do not understand, there is so much more that we do.  In the same way that you know you have money in the bank (or don't), in the same manner that those numerals on that paycheck represent a quantifiable amount and you know you earned, despite the fact that your boss didn't hand you raw chunks of gold to carry home on the subway, faith also incorporates a trust that supersedes what we see and experience.  Invariably, this is the kind of discussion which arouses the arguments for evolution, for intelligent design, for the notion (or lack thereof) that we can't possibly know for certain what this life is about.

The issue around which all of these schools of thought circle is the problem of evidence.  Contemporary science denies the possibility of the supernatural because equations cannot calculate deity.  Intelligent design counters evolutionary claims due to the absence of transitional forms in the fossil record.  So-called agnostics simply shrug and insist that there's not enough to go by to choose one side of the court or the other.  The consistent back-and-forth banter of "Prove it's true" and "Prove it's not" is unending, because no one has the trump card which invalidates the other arguments.  Embracing a side, therefore, is inevitably a matter of faith, because regardless of what camp you find yourself in, the evidence does not conclusively add up.  Evolution ultimately boils down to the same faith-based mechanics as any other devised religion.  It has no testable hypotheses to make it a recognizable science (no, you cannot watch evolution happen), and it lacks insubstantial evidence to verify its claims.  The Christian likewise cannot point to any evidence which the scientist would not deem circumstantial or hearsay.  It is by faith that we acknowledge the universe as God's handiwork, attributing to Him authority over nature and ascribing to Him authorship of the scientific laws which govern the universe.

But frankly, I'm tired of all the talk.  I'm tired of Christian apologetics who hint at the possibility of proving God's existence through their archeological approach and their intentional use of big scientific words.  I'm tired of evolutionists who raise their noses to the notion that someone embraces a worldview which subjects science to deity, because they themselves are unable to wrap their brains around the notion that an all-powerful god (which is, by objective definition, a supernatural and supreme being) would not be limited by the clockwork regularity of the universe He created.  And I'm really tired of people misusing the "agnostic" label simply because they don't know what they believe and don't want to be labeled as an atheist, which would be too extreme.  We stand in a room crowded with stubborn debaters, all shouting to be heard, and no one is convincing anyone of anything.

This post is not an argument for equality of thought or a demand for coexistence.  It is, however, a request for greater understanding of and a respect for what the other guy thinks.  It's a call to listen more and speak less (and I'll be the first one to admit failure in that department).  We need to stop adding to the argumentative noise.  What I also want to communicate is that faith (intelligent design, Creationism, or whatever other label you'd prefer) is not an unrealistic perspective of the world.  It is not a denial of scientific research, nor is it divorced from logic, reason, or education.  It is simply a different perspective and a different order of priorities.  Faith is a legitimate worldview because it is based upon confidence in the reality and veracity of the Bible.  Yes, it certainly takes faith to believe in a God who cannot be seen or defined with scientific instruments, a God who created man and gave him a mind of his own, and then chose out of His lovingkindness to redeem that man rather than destroy him for his ungrateful independence.  However, it also takes tremendous faith to look past the gaping holes in the evolutionary theory, just like it takes faith to answer the question "If God does not exist, then what is this all for?" with some apathetic defense of nature's prerogative.

The bottom line is that, if evolution is an educated and respected school of thought, despite its uncertainties, then intelligent design must also be held in the same regard.

In all of this, in my frustration with internet forums and the conversations which take place in so-called collegiate-level classrooms, I find myself coming back to Dr. Powlison's statement, an idea which is so fundamental and so grade-school in its simplicity, and yet we constantly overlook it.  Prayer is not the spiritual equivalent of groping blindly in the dark: it is leaning into the one dependable lifeline we have in a universe which spins out of our control, out of our finite comprehension.  Prayer is sanity because of the reality, the omnipotence, of the One upon whom we depend.

To me, the most beautiful aspect of the Christian faith is the fact that despite our wickedness, we may boldly approach the throne of grace -- boldly, not with trepidation, not with uncertainty, but with absolute confidence.  I know beyond the shadow of any doubt that my Savior will one day welcome me into His open arms, and that all mysteries of life, the universe, and everything will one day finally be answered -- but not until I come into His presence.  In the meantime, I intend to live a life which celebrates that confidence, knowing that man's pursuit of knowledge and understanding begins and culminates with Christ Himself.

~*~

Psalm 18.1-3: "I love you, O LORD, my strength.  The LORD is my rock and my fortress and my deliverer, my God, my rock, in whom I take refuge, my shield, and the horn of my salvation, my stronghold.  I call upon the LORD, who is worthy to be praised."

~*~

We all fall down and fall apart for love

This age is carousel

I remember all the horses

I forget all of their names

"Ladders" – Lovedrug (Wild Blood, 2012)

~*~

It was cool in our apartment and I'd only just gotten home from work.  My wife was out, working in her family's farm market until late, so I shuffled Lovedrug albums on my iPod before sitting down at my computer to get some work done on my senior thesis.  I became distracted, however, when "Ladders" came on, and I found myself sitting back in my seat, pondering the delusions of men and the temporality of reputation (instead of the integrity of art and the ever-present threat of commercialism, which I should have been writing about for my final paper of the semester).

The guys in my band and I have an interesting relationship with Lovedrug. Three of us, including myself, were contributors to the I AM LOVEDRUG campaign, a simple pledge drive which the band began way back in November of 2010 to fund their fourth studio release.  We know their songs by heart, wear their t-shirts, and we almost had the opportunity to play with them for an unplugged show.

Purporting themselves as "purveyors of cloud rock," a genre of their own creation, Lovedrug's first two albums (Everything Starts Where it Ends, 2004; Pretend You're Alive, 2007) are guitar-driven art-rock, full of pervasive and haunting beauty, augmented by poetic lyrics of considerable metaphoric depth.  The first time I heard "Down Towards the Healing" and "It Won't Last," I was enamored with the way the band approached their material, the way they let the tension of the storm always boil below the surface of the lilting guitar melodies.  I think what I love the most is that, while the musicianship is clearly there, Shepard, Owen, and Ladd were far more concerned with the layered beauty of the album's haunting melodies than exhibiting their musical prowess.  Instead of showing off, they created music.

Unfortunately, the band's third and fourth releases (Sucker Punch Show, 2009; Wild Blood, 2012) are significantly more pop-influenced, comprised of material much more akin to that of their fellow touring acts (Juliana Theory, Copeland, Kings of Leon to name a few) than the sound they developed on their first two projects.  It is over these latter two albums that the opinions within the Synaesthesia family diverge.  Some of us like Sucker Punch less than others, and our opinions on which of the trio of EPs released prior to Wild Blood is truest to the original Lovedrug sound differ as well.  However, we all agree that something changed after Pretend - something that may have to do with lineup changes (the loss of Ladd and Owen) or with working with a different producer.  As loyal fans, we all supported the Wild Blood project, but if we were hoping for a return to the Everything Starts Where it Ends era, we were to be somewhat disappointed.  "Premonition" (originally spelled "Premunition" on EP I, and with a drastically different chorus), "Ladders," and the album's title track all have elements of the early Lovedrug sound in them, and the album is certainly more cohesive than Sucker Punch was, but overall, both project feels somewhat over-produced, nowhere near the timbre of the band's early material.  Although they did use songs from the EPs, there were definitely other tracks with more potential that the band decided not to include in the final product.  I suppose that's the danger of releasing demos to the general public: we all have our own opinions, so someone out there is going to be disappointed that "Dead in the Water" from EP II didn't make the final cut.  Or maybe that's just me.

However, I didn't begin writing this simply to ramble about the band (or to escape from writing my paper).

The lines from "Ladders" which I quoted to begin this post reminded me of an expression I'd heard, probably something the pastor of my church once used in a sermon, a paraphrase of Galatians 1.10 and a reference to Max Lucado: "Don't seek the applause of men; seek the applause of heaven."  On the surface, it's a simple statement: man's praise is fleeting, seeking to be told "well done, good and faithful servant" is ultimately more rewarding (Matt 25.20).  However, I don't think that the admonition should be taken to mean that our lives should be anything close to pursuing our own celebration.  In fact, Scripture would teach the exact opposite - that our humility should be such that we put others before ourselves (Mark 9.35, John 13.14) and ultimately strive to make much of God, His attributes, and His redemptive work, not our own profitless good works (Gal 2.16, Eph 2.8, 2 Tim 1.9, Titus 3.2-7).  However, the life lived in the pursuit of righteousness, calling daily upon the name of the Lord and walking in the Spirit, will result in the "applause of heaven."  This is not necessarily a reward, but a measure of our existence.

Are we pursuing the only life worth living?

God delights in His children, those of us who do His will (Psa 147.11).  He desires relationship with us, which is why He sent His Son: so that we can be with Him eternally.  Consider the gospel in simplest terms: "For God so loved the world, that He gave His only son, that whoever believes in Him should not perish but have eternal life" (John 3.16).  God's love for us was so great, so vast, and so deep that He planned from all eternity to pour out His just wrath upon His Son instead of upon those of us who so righteously deserved nothing more than to be separate from Him for all eternity.  When Max Lucado's editor read portions of the Applause of Heaven manuscript to the executives of his publishing company, one of the men present became emotional at Lucado's descriptions of "God's hunger to have his children home, about how he longs to welcome us and may even applaud when we enter the gates."  Lucado goes on to share that while it's easy to imagine certain things about God, such as His "creating the world and suspending the stars" and the fact that he is "almighty, all-powerful, and in control," it is much more difficult to image a God who is "in love with me...  who is crazy for me... who cheers for me."  While it is certainly the truth that God, being all-powerful and all-sufficient does not need us, it is also true that He still desires us, despite all of our flaws.  Our Father is "relentlessly in pursuit of his children.  He has called us home with his word, paved the path with his blood and is longing for our arrival."

That is absolutely overwhelming.

The point I want to make is this: despite our affinity for this world, which we only temporarily call "home," it does not celebrate us the way God does.  Like Michael Shepard says in "Ladders," this cyclical world remembers all its horses but forgets all their names.  Though individuals rise into the spotlights of society, entertainment, and government, despite the fact that they are loved and celebrated (some certainly more than others), that type of adoration is nothing compared to that which the Father has for us.  On their first album, Caedmon's Call released a song called "This World," in which they joyously proclaim: "this world has nothing for me / And this world has everything."  It's the truth: all our world can offer is breakable toys, temporary fame, weary ambition.  There is nothing which can bring satisfaction the way God does. 

Just to be clear, this isn't intended to be a "feel good about yourself" post or even a pick-me-up for a bad day.  What it is intended to be is an encouragement to worship God for who He, for what He's done, and for what He's promised to do.  Neal Morse has a song called "Sing it High" on Testimony in which he proclaims, "He's [Jesus] the way / He's the goal / He's the song in your soul."  Jesus is the reward God offers: Himself, not the mere applause of heaven.  The chorus to "Ladders" concludes with the following line: "I cannot bring you back / From these ladders that you're climbing on."  The problem with searching for happiness is the same problem that plagues the religions of this world: meanwhile, while pilgrims have been climbing mountains (and ladders) to seek God, God came down to seek them.  Maybe Michael couldn't reach his audience, but I'm going to try with mine anyway: get off your ladder, because it's only going to lead you to a plateau far short of what you were looking for.  Jesus is the only way, and He is the only goal.  Take comfort, strength, and joy in that understanding alone.

Also, if you form an art-rock band at any time in the future...  Stick to your original sound.