There is a pain
deep in my heart
that can be known by no-one
except me.
It cries out, demanding
my attention
and my affection.
This affliction rends
my very soul.
I cannot share it,
but nor would I want to.
Because then, knowing
that my pain was seeing other people,
jealousy would consume me,
leaving me even more alone.
With myself.
And my pain.
And then,
my beloved pain,
we would sit
in awkward silence.
I would long to forgive,
to embrace you once again,
to find my identity in you.
But you, unwilling
to apologize, always
making excuses --
the way you once
helped me to --
would keep us apart,
just as you once kept
me apart from
the world.
Wait!
I am still apart
from the world.
I am still making
excuses.
You, my lovely,
unknowable pain,
are still keeping
me isolated.
And safe.
You have not cheated.
Yet.
I sit, in the rain
and gloom of my heart
and I weep.
In joy.
And in pain.
Friday, April 1, 2011
Friday, March 25, 2011
Why I Don't Care About Heaven and Hell
The notion of Hell is theologically troubling for lots of reasons. At the surface, it basically asks you to accept one of two things: Either we have an omnibenevolent God who has created billions of people over history for the express purpose of delivering them to eternal torment, or we have an omnipotent God whose greatest will -- that all should come to know and love him -- can be thwarted by mere mortals. This conundrum has probably turned more people away from faith (in the traditional understanding) than just about anything else; and it has led plenty of theologians to attempt to find new and creative ways of eliminating the issue, virtually all of which also fall on their faces at some point.
Several weeks ago, certain circles of the internet were agog in news that Rob Bell, pastor of Mars Hill, one of the most prominent mega churches in the country, was publishing a book, Love Wins. In particular, the hullabaloo was related to the book's description, which suggested an endorsement of Universalism (the notion that everybody is granted eternal Salvation). I haven't read the book, and I highly doubt I will, but based on what I've read since its release, it sounds as though it's largely laying out what I was introduced to in my Calvin College philosophy studies as The Doctrine of Second Chances.
Essentially, this doctrine turns Hell into a sort of Hell-Purgatory mash-up from which suffering souls can repent, accept Christ, and be granted entry into Heaven. There are lots of obvious theological problems with this idea -- the fact that it stands in direct contradiction to scripture for one (the parable of Lazarus and the Rich Man, most notably). It also seems to stand in direct opposition to the traditional definition of Hell -- a place of complete absence from God. It would seem that, without the presence of God, one could not recognize His Goodness.
This is all well and good, but it doesn't seem to be what most people are up in arms about. I'm sure that a man as respected as Bell knows all of these complaints and others perfectly well and has found clever ways of interpreting scripture that try to sidestep them. Instead, I see way too many people who are opposed to Universalism not because of Theological reasons but because it makes them ask the following questions: If everybody goes to Heaven, what's the purpose of being Christian? If there is no eternal punishment, why am I trying to be good now?
This sort of thinking just makes me sad. It suggests that being "good" is some how onerous. That it would be better if we could all just be selfish and greedy and follow our basest instincts. It endorses the view of life as some sort of balancing act in which we want our good deeds to outweigh our bad deeds by a wide enough margin that we will be let into heaven. By this view, not only can we "earn" Salvation -- one of the fundamental ideas against which Protestants rallied in the Reformation -- it suggests that we can somehow put God in our debt, an absolutely ludicrous notion. More important, though, this line of thinking denies fundamental truths that we attest to: That we were created good and to be good. That sin is an aberration that we are meant not just to avoid but to despise. That true joy and peace rest in returning to some semblance of Communion with God.
If we embrace these truths, the question of "Why be a Christian now?" becomes an easy one, even in the face of Universalism. Because God first loved us and we are called to reciprocate that Love. Because every additional moment we spend in even limited awareness of God's Grace is a moment of greater joy than we can find in any other way. Because now is when we are amidst creation and able to help take a stand against the evils that have tainted it. Because it is what we were created to be.
If you call yourself a Christian and spend your time worrying about where people are going to spend eternity at a level that goes beyond the academic, please, take a moment to think about how you're living your life. Odds are it isn't particularly Biblical and you might want to re-examine where you're going by your own standards. Stop worrying about your "reward" for all the suffering you're putting yourself through by trying to be good because, if you're doing it right, the work -- hard as it can be -- is its own reward.
Several weeks ago, certain circles of the internet were agog in news that Rob Bell, pastor of Mars Hill, one of the most prominent mega churches in the country, was publishing a book, Love Wins. In particular, the hullabaloo was related to the book's description, which suggested an endorsement of Universalism (the notion that everybody is granted eternal Salvation). I haven't read the book, and I highly doubt I will, but based on what I've read since its release, it sounds as though it's largely laying out what I was introduced to in my Calvin College philosophy studies as The Doctrine of Second Chances.
Essentially, this doctrine turns Hell into a sort of Hell-Purgatory mash-up from which suffering souls can repent, accept Christ, and be granted entry into Heaven. There are lots of obvious theological problems with this idea -- the fact that it stands in direct contradiction to scripture for one (the parable of Lazarus and the Rich Man, most notably). It also seems to stand in direct opposition to the traditional definition of Hell -- a place of complete absence from God. It would seem that, without the presence of God, one could not recognize His Goodness.
This is all well and good, but it doesn't seem to be what most people are up in arms about. I'm sure that a man as respected as Bell knows all of these complaints and others perfectly well and has found clever ways of interpreting scripture that try to sidestep them. Instead, I see way too many people who are opposed to Universalism not because of Theological reasons but because it makes them ask the following questions: If everybody goes to Heaven, what's the purpose of being Christian? If there is no eternal punishment, why am I trying to be good now?
This sort of thinking just makes me sad. It suggests that being "good" is some how onerous. That it would be better if we could all just be selfish and greedy and follow our basest instincts. It endorses the view of life as some sort of balancing act in which we want our good deeds to outweigh our bad deeds by a wide enough margin that we will be let into heaven. By this view, not only can we "earn" Salvation -- one of the fundamental ideas against which Protestants rallied in the Reformation -- it suggests that we can somehow put God in our debt, an absolutely ludicrous notion. More important, though, this line of thinking denies fundamental truths that we attest to: That we were created good and to be good. That sin is an aberration that we are meant not just to avoid but to despise. That true joy and peace rest in returning to some semblance of Communion with God.
If we embrace these truths, the question of "Why be a Christian now?" becomes an easy one, even in the face of Universalism. Because God first loved us and we are called to reciprocate that Love. Because every additional moment we spend in even limited awareness of God's Grace is a moment of greater joy than we can find in any other way. Because now is when we are amidst creation and able to help take a stand against the evils that have tainted it. Because it is what we were created to be.
If you call yourself a Christian and spend your time worrying about where people are going to spend eternity at a level that goes beyond the academic, please, take a moment to think about how you're living your life. Odds are it isn't particularly Biblical and you might want to re-examine where you're going by your own standards. Stop worrying about your "reward" for all the suffering you're putting yourself through by trying to be good because, if you're doing it right, the work -- hard as it can be -- is its own reward.
Thursday, March 10, 2011
Lessons Slowly Learned
I struggle a lot with guilt. I try my best not to rationalize my decisions or hide from their consequences, but I'm not always good at doing this in a healthy way. I obsess over trying to be better, trying to be the person I'm supposed to be. I get hung up on penitence, unwilling to forgive myself until I'm convinced that all blemishes of my wrong-doing have been rectified (an impossible task).
Not very long ago, I spent upwards of two years of my life feeling such a persistent and crushing guilt over my inability to do this sufficiently that it nearly broke me. Then, one day last summer, when everything was at its apex and I was feeling especially horrible and worthless, somebody I respected gave me a hug and told me that I was a good man. I felt true absolution for the first time in my life and spent the next 48 hours spontaneously coming close to tears as I dealt with what that meant:
I cannot make myself better. On my own, I am incapable of being good. The same holds for you. What we can do is this singular good thing: take our focus off of ourselves and let God's Grace take root. Through that Grace, we are allowed to do all manner of good, but it is not something that can come when our concern rests on ourselves. Freedom from guilt and from fear comes only from ignoring our pride and our insecurities and being servants to one another. That this is something we can do no matter how sinful and hideous we may feel, as I apparently did that day last summer, is a testament to God's goodness and Love.
Love, like Grace, is not something we earn. It is something we are allowed and given in spite of ourselves. It is utterly inhuman, embracing faults and failings, freeing us to move beyond them instead of demanding retribution or justification. We are free to give it because it has been given to us, but it is not something that we can seek. The very idea of seeking Love is absurd. The act requires us to be so focused on ourselves that we necessarily lose our fleeting sight of what Love is.
I forget all of this, though. I allow my insecurities and my guilt to get the best of me and restore my focus to myself and my wants. I consistently fall into the trap of thinking that salvation and redemption are about me. That whatever good God allows me is for my sake and my glory rather than to glorify Him and His plan. I return to the belief that my ultimate goal is to be able to do good without Grace instead of being more immediately receptive to it. Hypocritically, I think that even though I can somehow find the ability to love my friends, fallen and fallible as they are, I am incapable of being loved unless I am something approaching perfect.
When this happens to any of us, all we are capable of spreading is hurt. As such, I have realized that, next time I allow myself to be overly caught up in my own desires and insecurities and, in doing so, bring stress and pain on those close to me, I will not to turn it into an issue of my own inadequacy. I will, instead, use it as a reminder that I cannot be so important to myself. That it is only in properly Loving that I can recognize the Love that God and others have for me.
Not very long ago, I spent upwards of two years of my life feeling such a persistent and crushing guilt over my inability to do this sufficiently that it nearly broke me. Then, one day last summer, when everything was at its apex and I was feeling especially horrible and worthless, somebody I respected gave me a hug and told me that I was a good man. I felt true absolution for the first time in my life and spent the next 48 hours spontaneously coming close to tears as I dealt with what that meant:
I cannot make myself better. On my own, I am incapable of being good. The same holds for you. What we can do is this singular good thing: take our focus off of ourselves and let God's Grace take root. Through that Grace, we are allowed to do all manner of good, but it is not something that can come when our concern rests on ourselves. Freedom from guilt and from fear comes only from ignoring our pride and our insecurities and being servants to one another. That this is something we can do no matter how sinful and hideous we may feel, as I apparently did that day last summer, is a testament to God's goodness and Love.
Love, like Grace, is not something we earn. It is something we are allowed and given in spite of ourselves. It is utterly inhuman, embracing faults and failings, freeing us to move beyond them instead of demanding retribution or justification. We are free to give it because it has been given to us, but it is not something that we can seek. The very idea of seeking Love is absurd. The act requires us to be so focused on ourselves that we necessarily lose our fleeting sight of what Love is.
I forget all of this, though. I allow my insecurities and my guilt to get the best of me and restore my focus to myself and my wants. I consistently fall into the trap of thinking that salvation and redemption are about me. That whatever good God allows me is for my sake and my glory rather than to glorify Him and His plan. I return to the belief that my ultimate goal is to be able to do good without Grace instead of being more immediately receptive to it. Hypocritically, I think that even though I can somehow find the ability to love my friends, fallen and fallible as they are, I am incapable of being loved unless I am something approaching perfect.
When this happens to any of us, all we are capable of spreading is hurt. As such, I have realized that, next time I allow myself to be overly caught up in my own desires and insecurities and, in doing so, bring stress and pain on those close to me, I will not to turn it into an issue of my own inadequacy. I will, instead, use it as a reminder that I cannot be so important to myself. That it is only in properly Loving that I can recognize the Love that God and others have for me.
Wednesday, March 2, 2011
Academia Redux
After my post on Academia a couple of weeks ago, frustrations compounded to the point that I was within inches of calling grad school quits after this semester. Fortunately, I've got level-headed people around to talk with, and I came to the conclusion that some of my apathy and irritation are likely springing from not having made a solid enough effort to find passion in my work.
Over the coming weeks, I'm going to make a much more serious effort to do the work I need to be doing for my research, and that is going to require processing a hell of a lot of information about problems in concurrent computing. Considering I process things almost entirely verbally, writing is a great outlet for this, but I see no reason to bore most of you with this stuff.
So, if you are a strange person who wants to know more about what I'm thinking about my research, I'm starting a new blog, much as I did with my senior project in undergrad. It can be found here, and updates should be commencing (late) tonight with an overview on what I feel to be the essential difficulties with using physical metaphors for shared memory systems and a quick look at where I'll be starting my reading.
Over the coming weeks, I'm going to make a much more serious effort to do the work I need to be doing for my research, and that is going to require processing a hell of a lot of information about problems in concurrent computing. Considering I process things almost entirely verbally, writing is a great outlet for this, but I see no reason to bore most of you with this stuff.
So, if you are a strange person who wants to know more about what I'm thinking about my research, I'm starting a new blog, much as I did with my senior project in undergrad. It can be found here, and updates should be commencing (late) tonight with an overview on what I feel to be the essential difficulties with using physical metaphors for shared memory systems and a quick look at where I'll be starting my reading.
Friday, February 18, 2011
Science vs. "Science"
This may ruffle a few feathers, but I really don't care:
I'm really sick of popular media figures convincing everybody that Science is something other than what it is. Sick of the notion that Science is an infallible authority that answers all of our questions and makes our lives better.
Don't get me wrong. I adore Science. I think that investigating the fundamental behavior of the universe is a supremely important pursuit and that the knowledge we gain is of great use in improving our understanding and our station. I fully endorse theories of evolution and of the big bang and goodness knows whatever else plenty of foolish Christians have insisted on denying in the name of literalism.
I just recognize that Science is not final. Whatever we think we know about the universe is simply a current best guess. It's a set of plausible (likely, even) explanations based on observation of correlation and testing for causation. And none of it can ever be shown to be perfectly true. It's a system that rests on the principle of falsification -- advancements can be made almost exclusively by disproving previous best-guesses.
More than that, almost all of Science is simplification. The vast majority of natural interactions are chaotic -- meaning they cannot be represented in any sort of linear or closed form equation. We cannot observe or interact with the infinite, so we build models that are "good enough". We make substitutions and estimations. We build computer models that, between the necessity of discretization and the fallibility of floating point arithmetic, can only barely be trusted.
Science is not an answer to a question. It's a process by which we go about attempting to improve the answers we have. Science is not God. It is an attempt to reveal the work that God has done in creation in a way we can comprehend.
I'm really sick of popular media figures convincing everybody that Science is something other than what it is. Sick of the notion that Science is an infallible authority that answers all of our questions and makes our lives better.
Don't get me wrong. I adore Science. I think that investigating the fundamental behavior of the universe is a supremely important pursuit and that the knowledge we gain is of great use in improving our understanding and our station. I fully endorse theories of evolution and of the big bang and goodness knows whatever else plenty of foolish Christians have insisted on denying in the name of literalism.
I just recognize that Science is not final. Whatever we think we know about the universe is simply a current best guess. It's a set of plausible (likely, even) explanations based on observation of correlation and testing for causation. And none of it can ever be shown to be perfectly true. It's a system that rests on the principle of falsification -- advancements can be made almost exclusively by disproving previous best-guesses.
More than that, almost all of Science is simplification. The vast majority of natural interactions are chaotic -- meaning they cannot be represented in any sort of linear or closed form equation. We cannot observe or interact with the infinite, so we build models that are "good enough". We make substitutions and estimations. We build computer models that, between the necessity of discretization and the fallibility of floating point arithmetic, can only barely be trusted.
Science is not an answer to a question. It's a process by which we go about attempting to improve the answers we have. Science is not God. It is an attempt to reveal the work that God has done in creation in a way we can comprehend.
Thursday, February 10, 2011
Academia
As much as I love music, there's a reason I never could have made a career out of it. Music, in both performance and consumption, is something I do for myself. It is therapeutic to me. I love doing it, but, except for rarely, it's not something I can do in order to meet the needs of others. Oftentimes my ability to perform and other people's desire to listen have overlapped positively, but if I felt like I was somehow beholden to others in my performance, I would grow resentful and lose what love I have for it.
Essentially the same thing holds true for computer science.
I adore designing systems to solve problems. I love analyzing these systems to try to improve them and make them do their job better and generalizing them to a wider variety of tasks...but it's not something I can readily make myself do, and it's certainly not something I can make myself do because somebody else is expecting something from me.
For some reason, when I signed up for grad school, I was under the delusion that academia was a place where I could go to find novel problems of interest to me and seek guidance from a field of experts as to where to start looking to solve them. I thought it would be self-directed. I thought it would be freeing.
Nope.
I get here, and I'm subjected to the frantic energy of brilliant but frazzled men who live and die not by the intrinsic value of their work, but by the whims and opinions of their colleagues. These are men who want me to pursue my own interests, but at their pace and in the manner that they see fit because they know that their careers hinge, in part, on my potential for brilliance.
I don't work that way, at least not in this discipline. I come under sudden pressure to satisfy the needs of others in this regard and I crumble. I fall into depression, and I fall even farther behind. I can't be effective if I'm spending as much time figuring out how to convince my advisors that I'm doing good work as I am actually working.
I'll give it the rest of the semester and probably the year after that -- long enough to get my Masters -- but I'm not sure this is going to happen without taking an unnecessary toll on me. At least not here. Mostly, I think I may need to find a career doing something I'm capable of and enjoy doing for others.
So, who wants to help me start a cafe/brew-pub? I'll manage the food part of the menu and take the day shift. In the evenings, I can hang out with and lead a double life as an eccentric inventor/writer/musician. It will be fun. I promise.
Essentially the same thing holds true for computer science.
I adore designing systems to solve problems. I love analyzing these systems to try to improve them and make them do their job better and generalizing them to a wider variety of tasks...but it's not something I can readily make myself do, and it's certainly not something I can make myself do because somebody else is expecting something from me.
For some reason, when I signed up for grad school, I was under the delusion that academia was a place where I could go to find novel problems of interest to me and seek guidance from a field of experts as to where to start looking to solve them. I thought it would be self-directed. I thought it would be freeing.
Nope.
I get here, and I'm subjected to the frantic energy of brilliant but frazzled men who live and die not by the intrinsic value of their work, but by the whims and opinions of their colleagues. These are men who want me to pursue my own interests, but at their pace and in the manner that they see fit because they know that their careers hinge, in part, on my potential for brilliance.
I don't work that way, at least not in this discipline. I come under sudden pressure to satisfy the needs of others in this regard and I crumble. I fall into depression, and I fall even farther behind. I can't be effective if I'm spending as much time figuring out how to convince my advisors that I'm doing good work as I am actually working.
I'll give it the rest of the semester and probably the year after that -- long enough to get my Masters -- but I'm not sure this is going to happen without taking an unnecessary toll on me. At least not here. Mostly, I think I may need to find a career doing something I'm capable of and enjoy doing for others.
So, who wants to help me start a cafe/brew-pub? I'll manage the food part of the menu and take the day shift. In the evenings, I can hang out with and lead a double life as an eccentric inventor/writer/musician. It will be fun. I promise.
Monday, February 7, 2011
Goals for my 25th Year
Analyze things less.
Enjoy things more.
Stop focusing on expectations.
Man up and ask for help when I need it.
Quit being a pansy in my personal life.
Learn to rock out on bass.
Use bass rocking as an opportunity to improve knowledge of chord structure and progression so as to rock out on saxophone harder than ever (or at least as hard as when I was 18).
Go to more concerts.
Participate in dance parties instead of hiding from them.
Learn to at least tolerate beer (in moderation).
Learn to at least tolerate coffee (in excess as needed).
Prepare vegetarian meals at least thrice a week.
Get exercise beyond copious walking.
Lose another 25+ lbs (already down nearly 40 since graduation).
Develop a stronger rapport with the rest of my lab.
Find a way to twist my research into something I'm passionate about.
Submit at least one paper or article for publication.
Enjoy things more.
Stop focusing on expectations.
Man up and ask for help when I need it.
Quit being a pansy in my personal life.
Learn to rock out on bass.
Use bass rocking as an opportunity to improve knowledge of chord structure and progression so as to rock out on saxophone harder than ever (or at least as hard as when I was 18).
Go to more concerts.
Participate in dance parties instead of hiding from them.
Learn to at least tolerate beer (in moderation).
Learn to at least tolerate coffee (in excess as needed).
Prepare vegetarian meals at least thrice a week.
Get exercise beyond copious walking.
Lose another 25+ lbs (already down nearly 40 since graduation).
Develop a stronger rapport with the rest of my lab.
Find a way to twist my research into something I'm passionate about.
Submit at least one paper or article for publication.
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