Is God in the future?

Yesterday I received a daily devotional email from the Purpose Driven Life (TM) with the following lines from Rick Warren:

"The Bible says, even before you were born, God knew all of your future. This means God sees your tomorrow, today. He already sees the things you'll face... God not only knows about the future, He's there in the future."

I realise I'm stepping incautiously out into major heresy here, but I really don't see how it's meaningfully possible for God to be in the future. I'm not convinced that the future has any fixed and objective reality of the sort that anyone - even God - can possibly inhabit, visit or even view.

I would now hastily make these provisos:

1. God can of course state for definite that certain chosen things will happen in the future, for if he has determined that they will happen then no-one has the power to prevent them - unless he should decide to allow them that power. So God could decide that the world will end tomorrow and no-one would be able to stop him.

2. God has all knowledge and all wisdom, and can project and predict all the possible paths and trajectories of every past and present event, action or choice - indeed the course of every sub-atomic particle - as well as their relative probabilities. So he does indeed know all the potential futures as far as they can be known.

3. Following from this, he can of course also steer, shape and influence events and their paths to achieve his purposes. However, I believe that as a general rule he does so in such as way as not to violate the free will and choice of his morally responsible creatures.

4. Finally, much of the future is merely a continuation or repetition of the past. We can all predict certain cyclical aspects of the future - day will follow night, spring will follow winter, adulthood will follow childhood. We can also use the law of cause and effect: current actions will have future consequences, many of which are predictable. And other things simply remain fixed and unchanged for what we term the 'foreseeable future' - e.g. the summit of Everest will almost definitely still be the highest point on the Earth's surface for many years to come.

Of course there are examples in the Bible where God does foretell future events - but these can usually be explained by one of the above provisos. Even Jesus knowing that Peter would deny him three times before the cock crowed could be God fully knowing the characters, behaviours and habits of all the players in the story (point 2 above) - or it could be something that God determined to happen for some reason (point 1 or 3).

I do not see that an inability to dwell in the future diminishes God's greatness or sovereignty any more than it does that he cannot make a square circle or cannot make 1 = 0. If the future genuinely does not exist except in potential until it ceases to be the future by becoming the present, I would say that it is neither possible nor meaningful for God to dwell in it, visit it or fully know it.

Theologians talk of God being 'outside time', which I accept to an extent (and he is also within time). But the time God is outside (and in) is real, actual time, not merely potential time. God can be in and around all real, existing times and spaces, but I do not believe the future fits in this category.

But as usual, I'm very likely to be wrong and God probably knows I'll change my mind in the future... ;-)

The Evangelical Liberal

A glance at my birthday books wishlist reveals quite a bit about where I am on my faith journey... titles include 'The Christian Agnostic', 'The Orthodox Heretic' and (appropriately given those two) 'Paradoxy'.

Let me reassure (or disappoint) anyone concerned - I'm not losing my Christian faith. In fact, I'd say that my faith in Christ and love for God were stronger and deeper now than they've ever been. But I feel that I'm emerging, slowly and cautiously, from the confining chrysalis of my years of evangelical doctrine, literalism and legalism ('oughtism'), into the fresh air and light of a new way of being Christian. It's a way that owes much to the contemplative and mystical streams of Christianity.

Chrysalises are good and necessary, but they are only meant for a time - they are a stage on the journey. However, growth and even metamorphosis does not have to mean turning your back on the past, rejecting what nurtured you. I'm not cutting off my evangelical roots; I'm quite happily remaining within the charismatic-evangelical Anglican church I've been part of for 16 years. Nor am I turning theologically ultra-liberal, jettisoning belief in God or miracles, the uniqueness and divinity of Christ or the reality of the resurrection.

Rather I would say I'm simply becoming more open in my beliefs and in my ways of believing; less hung up on right answers, sound doctrines, 'correct' ways of interpreting the Bible; more open to insights from other traditions and even other faiths; more open and honest about the flaws and inconsistencies in my own tradition, and about my own real doubts and struggles. I'm becoming less wedded to certainty and more open to mystery. I'm giving up my obsession with facts, proofs and systems of theology in favour of divine paradox, which I increasingly see as the creative core of living Christian faith.

I'm even open to the possibility that Christ may be present and active incognito in and through other faiths than my own. (I'm not saying that all ways equally lead to God, but that God can and does make himself known to those following other ways than mainstream Christianity.) I think my overriding sense is simply that God is greater, bigger and more than I've yet understood him - and than I will ever be able to understand.

So for now I'm happy to be agnostic about parts of my faith - agnostic merely means not knowing, and who but God can claim - or need - to know everything? And even 'heretic' comes originally from a Greek word merely meaning 'to choose' or 'to take'. Peter Rollins (author of 'The Orthodox Heretic') suggests that true orthodoxy is not so much about believing the right things, as believing in the right way - the way of love; the way of Christ.

Meanwhile it looks like all the best titles have been used so for now my own (imaginary) book will be called 'The Evangelical Liberal'. After all, 'libera' refers to freedom, and 'evangel' to the good news of Christ, and I can't find much fault with either of those.

What can we say of God?

I've just finished a fantastic book, How (not) to Speak of God by Peter Rollins - one of the deepest, most thoughtful spiritual books I've read. Rollins' paradoxical central thesis is that 'That which we cannot speak of [i.e. God] is the one thing about whom and to whom we must never stop speaking'.

If God is always beyond human language, human thought, human understanding - as he must be to be truly God - what can we ever say of him? Must we simply remain silent before the mystery?

I believe that, though we can never fully comprehend or conceptualise God, there are nonetheless a number of things we can truly say about him. (NB I'm using the masculine pronoun for simplicity, not to denote gender.) We can speak - always humbly, tentatively and provisionally - because God has spoken to us in a variety of ways, and ultimately because he has come to us - has made himself known to us - in Christ.

Firstly we can say that God IS; that he is Real, or the Real - the ultimate Reality, fount and foundation of all being, of all that is; and that he is without beginning or end or limit.

We can say that he is Good, that indeed he is Goodness itself and the source of all good; in him is no evil. Good is simply rightness - the natural, original, essential state of all being and all things. He is therefore also the source and essence of all Life, Light and Love, and all that flow from these - truth, joy, beauty, healing, mercy, freedom, hope, justice. We can say that there is no truly good thing that does not have its source in him and its place in his realm, his 'kingdom'.

We can say that he is immeasurably and infinitely greater, better, higher, more, than anything we could possibly conceptualise or imagine.

We can say that he is both personal and relational, the source of personality and relationship; for he is Love and love requires both of these things. In himself he represents and embodies the perfect communion, circle or dance of love, and that love shines out, reaches out endlessly and limitlessly to draw others into itself, into its circle of belonging and acceptance, of freedom and joy.

We can say that he is the God who communicates, who 'speaks', for relationship must involve communication (though not necessarily or primarily verbal). And he has indeed spoken, and continues to speak - through prophets, saints and even donkeys; through nature; through humans, who specially bear his (albeit dim and distorted) image; through the chequered history, songs and stories of the Hebrews in the Bible; through our own reason, conscience and experience. All these are cracked vessels, flawed messengers, presenting God's image 'through a glass darkly'.

But God has also spoken in one further way - through the life, character, words and works of Jesus Christ, who (his followers believe) is the perfect human representation and embodiment - incarnation - of God. In and through him we can see the God who is beyond sight, can know the God who is beyond knowledge.

God cannot be understood any more than light can be seen. Rather, light is what we see by, and God is what we understand by - he is the beginning and source of understanding, as well as its end and destination. To know God is both to love him and to be in awe of him; and this is the starting point and context for all other understanding.

Further thoughts on God and suffering

In earlier posts I've pondered on why God allows evil in the universe, and why he allows natural disasters and all the terrible suffering they bring. These are, I think, two very different questions. Suffering and evil are not the same things, nor are they even always part of the same problem.

Hurt versus harm

US psychologists Cloud and Townsend draw a useful distinction between 'hurt' and 'harm', or in other words suffering and evil. They use the example of eating sweets, which harms our teeth but doesn't initially hurt, compared to having a filling which hurts but doesn't harm. Suffering always hurts but it doesn't always harm - in fact, sometimes it's part of the healing process. Evil always harms but it doesn't always hurt.

Often pain and suffering are unavoidable though uncomfortable counterparts to liberation, maturation, transformation and healing. Indeed, it would be hard to envisage life outside of a padded cell that didn't involve them. Furthermore, all parents have to stand by and allow their children to experience some pain and difficulty without stepping in to fix it, otherwise those children would never become responsible adults. God too cannot merely bail us out and fix all our problems, and nor can he be held to blame for all the crap that happens in a universe full of free moral agents.

Nonetheless, the deliberate causing of pain and suffering, except in the context of healing, is generally sadistic and evil. So which category do natural disasters fall into?

Natural disasters and evil

An earthquake, hurricane or volcano, though terrible, is not inherently evil. But to deliberately cause or send one would surely be evil. The only time it might not be would be if it were to wipe out evil - say if a freak landslide had hit a Nazi rally in 1939. However, sending an earthquake that indiscriminately wipes out hundreds of thousands of average people, including children, would surely be an unspeakably evil act.

But what about allowing - rather than actively sending - natural disasters? This perhaps depends on the context and reason. If earthquakes and hurricanes are part of the vital systems and processes of the world's natural order, then to allow that order to run its course without intervention may not be evil. Especially if that natural order turns out to be the only means by which morally responsible, free and loving beings can evolve in the universe.

However, even if this is the case does the end justify the means? Another possibility, discussed in an earlier post, is that the natural order has been corrupted by evil which God allows to continue for the present while he ongoingly and painfully redeems the cosmos.

Suffering and redemption

It's important to note that in the Christian view, God both fully enters into and redeems our suffering - that is the central message of the cross and of Easter. Though suffering is not good in itself, it becomes the means of good. The enduring power of Christ's gospel is that it can transform evil into good, disaster into triumph, despair into hope.

Finally, you cannot have God without God's kingdom, the incoming realm in Christ in which wrongs are righted, harms healed, and love and justice made perfect. If this present order were all there is, then death and tragedy might be the strong arguments against belief in God that A.C. Grayling imagines. But if not, it is not only perfectly plausible to believe in God in the face of earthquakes and holocausts, it may actually be the only belief that has something better than nihilistic despair to offer.

Reality as Sacrament and Icon

No, I'm not turning Catholic or Orthodox (though I see much good in both). Rather I've recently been discovering a new (actually probably very old) set of ways of understanding and relating to God and the world - or rather to God in and through the world. These ways are best described in words like sacrament, icon, transcendent immanence, transluminence and super/naturalism. I'd sum it up as the idea of God as the Reality behind reality.

I'm tentatively starting to see each new moment, sight, experience and encounter - the whole world and all of life - as potentially sacramental. Each new sight, meeting or creature can become a sacrament, a physical vessel or conduit of the divine presence, mediating God's reality to us. So in and through the things of the natural world we can potentially encounter God, receive his love and grace, hear his inaudible voice.

Related to this is the idea of the world and all in it - all of physical reality - as icon. An icon is not an idol, an object of worship, but rather a channel of worship, a window through which we glimpse a little of the God whom no image can capture or truly represent (Christ alone is the perfect icon).

Anything can be an idol if put in place of God; almost anything (with the exception of that which is inherently evil) can be an icon or sacrament. Each place can become a sacred space; each moment can be a holy moment, every mundane activity can be worship. God is not contained in his creation, but (for those with eyes to see) he saturates it, pervades it, shines through it so that truly 'Earth's crammed with heaven / And every common bush aflame with God'. I'm calling this shining-through transluminence.

Closely linked to this is the idea of the extraordinary in the ordinary - the miraculous in the mundane, the eternal in the everyday. Sometimes you may see a familiar face or some perfectly ordinary thing but you see it afresh, as though for the first time. These epiphanies again reveal the ordinary stuff of life as sacraments and icons through which we glimpse the divine.

Transcendent immanence is the idea that God is at the same time both totally transcendent (beyond, above, over, outside, greater than) and also totally immanent (present, near, within, through, beneath). The Trinity is a potent symbol of this - God's Spirit makes the transcendent, timeless God present within/through each part and particle of created time and space, and perhaps the Son is the floodgate through which the Spirit enters the cosmos, the bridge-maker between the eternal and temporal realms. (NB when I say the Trinity is a symbol I don't mean that it isn't real.)

Alongside all these ideas is what I'm calling super/naturalism, aka supernatural theism. This sees the realms or dimensions of natural and supernatural, physical and spiritual, visible and invisible as integrated, intersecting at all points - not separate but part of a seamless unity. There is therefore no division between 'sacred' and 'profane' or physical and spiritual - each touches on the other and is a part of the other, just as body and soul co-inhere (if that's a word). This allows us to see God as intimately involved in the physical world, acting in it through natural events and circumstances.

We therefore don't need to make a distinction between miraculous 'God' events and normal, natural events that somehow operate apart from or without God. By the same token, a 'natural' or scientific account of some phenomenon need not deny or exclude God's presence or activity within and through it. We do not need, for example, to choose between Creation and Evolution - we can affirm the both/and as we can affirm that each baby is 'created' by God yet at the same time formed through normal, natural everyday biological processes. So belief in the supernatural is not 'gilding the lily' as some atheists suggest - it is merely seeing the lily in the fullness of its (sacramental) reality.

This does not of course mean that everything in nature is equally or fully good, God-filled or God-ordained. God's world is infected throughout and in every part with evil and corruption (see previous post on God and evil). Almost no object or experience is a pure sacrament or perfect icon; as yet we only ever glimpse God 'as through a glass darkly' (and writing this through a heavy cold on a grey January day, the glass does seems pretty dark). But the glimpses are genuine, and it is from the matter and spirit of this corrupted but originally good world that God is here and now invisibly building his new, redeemed and restored creation - his kingdom, in which his love will reign fully and his face be seen perfectly.

Finally, if all of reality is in some way sacramental, then I am - you are - as well. We each dimly, stumblingly, often unwittingly yet uniquely reflect and transmit glimpses of God to others.

Why does God allow evil?

'Rushing in where angels fear to tread' springs to mind, but in for a penny... ;-)

If God is perfect (and if he isn't, he's not God), why does evil exist and why does God allow it to continue?

A few quick provisos:

• A blog post can't do more than skim the surface of such enormous issues
  
• There are probably as many ways of answering the questions as there are thinkers about it
  
• People of faith have wrestled with these issues for millennia and the struggle has often enriched their faith without producing any simple answers
• A lot depends on our definitions/understanding of 'good' and 'evil', which there's not room for here. But for example, is all pain and even all suffering actually evil, or merely very unpleasant and difficult? Is death always and inherently bad? Can destruction sometimes be good (say of a cancer)?
  
• Ultimately, evil is not a riddle to be solved but a reality to be dealt with.
  

My own (tentative and provisional) view is that Evil is an unavoidable potential inherent in Good. Evil is not a separate entity from Good; it is merely Good corrupted, twisted, misused, misplaced or attenuated. It is the shadow side of Good: where there is freedom to bless, there must also be freedom to curse; where there is freedom to build, there must also be freedom to destroy, and so on. And as noted above, sometimes destruction (e.g. of a cancer) may be a right and necessary and thing. 

So God did not create or plan evil, but evil was inherent as a potentiality within the good.

Furthermore, Christian theology holds that God wanted morally free, responsible agents whose actions could have genuine significance; who could genuinely love and embrace the good out of free choice. Again, this implies freedom not to act this way; the potential for good inherently includes the potential for not-good, or less-than-good, or good twisted.

At some point then the potentiality for evil becomes the reality of evil, infecting and corrupting the goodness of the cosmos and perhaps even of all things in it. When this happens, one option would be for God to wipe everything out and start again - a bit like a writer ripping up a whole manuscript because of a flaw running through all of it. But this is not the action of one who truly, passionately loves. In all the corrupted things and creatures there is still so much of the original good, and God chooses the long, slow, painful path of redemption and restoration - ultimately even involving his own self-sacrifice and death - to heal the damaged creation. This is, more or less, the Christian story.

In Matthew 13:14-29 Jesus tells a story about a farmer who planted a field of wheat, but an enemy came and planted weeds among the wheat. Rather than trying to pull up the weeds and risk pulling up the good wheat too, the farmer let the two grow side by side until harvest time when they could be separated without damage. This is a picture not only of the cosmos but of everything in it, including our own hearts - good and evil are for the moment inextricably entwined, and God will not risk destroying the good by ripping out the evil. I for one am very grateful for this, as I know too well that many of my thoughts, attitudes, words and deeds do not put me unqualifiedly in the 'good' camp.

Anyway, these are all just my suggestions, not some definitive statement.

Earthquakes and God - why does God allow natural disasters?

As I said in a previous post, even if it's possible to explain why an all-powerful loving God allows natural disasters that wipe out millions, no explanation is likely to satisfy us emotionally.

The overall problem of evil and pain is difficult enough - and will have to wait for another occasion - but natural disasters come into an even harder category because they seem so random and so indiscriminate, and because they cannot easily be blamed on anyone apart from God.

There are many ways people have tried to understand natural disaster in the light of their faith in God.

1. God's wrath. It seems hideously insensitive even to mention in the light of the current tragedy, but some (rather scary) people have indeed interpreted such disasters as acts of God punishing the wickedness of humanity (citing the biblical Sodom and Gomorrah for example). I personally can't accept this. Yes, you only need to read the newspapers or look hard in the mirror to see that humans aren't shining examples on the whole, yet all of Jesus' teaching and example would seem to argue against the idea that God would indiscriminately wipe out whole populations - including many of his followers - for the sins of some, or even of all. And why does Robert Mugabe remain alive and well while children die in Haiti?

2. Evil. Some want to blame that other convenient scapegoat, Satan, or let's just say the great primal forces of evil and chaos loose in the universe. There's certainly a strand of Christian thinking that Satan was present and active from the outset in creation, well before humans ever came on the scene, and Charles Foster (mentioned in an earlier post) believes that Satan was responsible for selfishness-driven natural selection and predation. However, these are murky waters - and is evil really responsible for the plate tectonics which shape our planet and yet also lead to earthquakes, volcanoes and tidal waves? (The question of why God allows evil to remain present and active in the universe will have to wait for another time.)

3. Human responsibility. A third possible culprit is seen to be humanity - that somehow all the sins and selfishness of mankind disturb the natural order and balance of the planet, leading to natural calamities. Certainly we're all increasingly aware of the environmental damage we're doing to the planet and the disastrous ecological consequences this could unleash. And if Chaos theory is right and the flapping of a butterfly's wings could ever lead to a hurricane on the other side of the globe, who knows - perhaps my sin could lead to a natural disaster somewhere. All a bit imponderable and impenetrable though.

4. Natural order. A fourth and, to my mind, more likely option is that natural disasters - like pain and death - are simply a necessary part of the complex geological, biological and climatological systems of our planet, systems which allow life to exist and flourish at all.

We are fragile beings in an immense universe and our lifespan is short, whether cut off abruptly by a natural disaster, war, disease or violence, or allowed to play out to a full natural lifespan. I may not have died in this week's Haitian earthquake but I may be hit by a bus tomorrow or by cancer next year, and I will certainly die sometime within the next 70 years or so. Perhaps the real issue is whether we - whether I - can learn to live well here and now, ready to face death whenever and however it may come.

I realise this is a very partial and provisional response, and it costs me nothing to theorise from the comfort of my non-earthquake-damaged armchair (well, slightly human-damaged swivel chair to be precise - the back-rest keeps falling off). To my mind a far more important response is active compassion in the face of human suffering, anger at the evil in the universe and in ourselves, humility in the face of mystery, and prayer in the darkness.