Anger at God

During recent tragedy one thing that's changed is my conception about being angry with God. To be clear, I'm not sure I can say I have ever been angry with God in my life. Some may ask why, and it's likely because I've never really taken the absolutist, omnipotent, or total control of every worldly detail view of God. I believe God is only omnipotent as they have access to all power, and even then I understand that a belief in a just God obviates the ability to believe in an omnipotent God as certain laws greater than that God must then be followed. I've also believed strongly in free will, and that God's protection or preservation thereof is a necessary condition for their existence, or at least their Godhood. However, I am also convinced in a personal God, one who cares deeply for their children and wishes involvement in their lives (but like any good parent, must limit their involvement to allow independence to develop).

I find the parental analogy very compelling, and this has led me to an interesting thought on being angry with God. A quick search on being angry with God will reveal how many people are uncomfortable with the idea. It feels blasphemous, perhaps, but I think there's one person who's quite OK with people being angry at God and that's God themself.

My wife and I hope to have kids, and that hope's no longer in the distant future, so I've read the occasional article about parenting, discussed it with friends and family, and tried to gain what experience I can watching over others' children. I've learned that a mature adult generally weathers the storm and is understanding of a child's anger, even though it often ends up pointed toward them, without becoming upset or angry about the situation themselves. Good parents understand and allow their children to become angry, they often don't take it personally, and recognize that they may have to accept their child's fury themselves because understanding the larger situation is beyond the child (at least at this point in their development).

Some of this thinking may have come together when a friend of mine who is a mother took a sip of her son's drink, leading to a short spat of crying and yelling, "I didn't want you to do that!" over and over. That moment seemed so childish, crying out wishing an event hadn't happened but not providing any ideas for redress or seemingly unwilling to come to an understanding or acceptance of the painful reality of what's occurred, and yet it also seemed so familiar as I and my loved ones were often doing the same only our yells were, "I wish she hadn't died." This may seem uncaring on my part to compare a child's displeasure and losing out on a sip of milk to the death of a loved one, but from God's perspective it might not be so different, and again I find the similarities of the emotional turmoil experienced eerily similar.

Yes, I'm certainly speaking from a Christian perspective here, but I've tried to ensure I'm speaking in the most general terms. If you're an atheist, agnostic, or otherwise unaligned or undecided allow me to speak to you a little more closely at this time, and if you're one of my Christian or otherwise theistic audience members lend me some latitude for a moment. One of the important roles of God is that of an abstraction, or even verbal shorthand. Some theists like to make much of Einstein's very profound theism, but the God of Einstein probably more resembled the impersonal physical laws pervading all creation through all time than the proverbial sky daddy in which many of them might profess faith. From this perspective anger at God is easy to understand; we're angry at the whims of fortune that brought us to our current place (and hey, like the ancient myth-makers knew when they came up with Thor, Ares, or Sopona it's more cathartic to personify your ill fate than to allow it to persist ethereal).

So I think God completely accepts our anger towards them. That said, anger isn't a healthy emotion. Without even addressing the psychology, it increases blood pressure and depresses the immune system so it is unwise to maintain for long periods of time. I think this is why forgiveness is so powerful, and so important. The concept of forgiveness is often abused, taken to mean we can't treat people or entities with suspicion or coolness when that may be exactly what is deserved, but I think forgiveness starts with releasing the feelings of rancor and hatred toward others. Forgiveness can go beyond that, but often anything beyond that requires penitence on the part of the trespasser, so the beginning may well be the most important part of forgiveness if only because it will be the most often used.

Whether one conceives of God as a loving cosmic Allfather or even as an impersonal cosmic force permeating the universe and seen in its structure and beauty we can accept anger toward God, and perhaps even recognize it as necessary at times. When to move beyond this anger, to forgive God and once again connect with the omnipresent divinity will depend on the individual and is likely to be a difficult task. I pray those in need may do so, and hope these meager thoughts on the matter help.

Not excusable, but understandable

I have been thinking since for a little bit now on the title of this post. I suppose I should say that my thoughts about it might just barely crystallize here as I write them, or maybe not. It's an interesting thing to think about, and has meaning and importance, and it's about time for the monthly post here on my blog so here goes.

I think my idea here is what drives reformation. What drives one to become better? To leave bad habits and grow to be better. This is similar to my previous post on the idea of a PGF. My question here though focuses more on bad habits, or vices. I've been struggling with some of my own lately. Perhaps it may be better to say that a particular struggle has been highlighted recently, as I hope to be continually struggling with my vices and weakness always. Getting to the point, I see the poor decisions I make and I decide that they're not excusable, but sometimes understandable.

This means I seek to understand what drives me to do what my better judgment tells me not to. I look for the conditions and the reasons behind bad decisions, internal and external. I usually find them. I usually find a good explanation for why I don't do what I think I should. Knowing this empowers me to be better, to avoid those pitfalls in the future, and to build situations around and within me that will propel me to good rather than away from it.

Knowing what caused my iniquities, though, doesn't mean that they don't exist. It doesn't mean, to use my hated phrase, "I'm a good person." On the other hand, weeping and feeling sorrow for what I've done wrong won't help either. I can't live in the past, wishing I hadn't done what I've done. I can only accept my previous faults, and strive to make sure they do not become present faults.

Do you really want justice?

I've been thinking recently about a comic book that I'd like to write or something. I'm not a comic book writer and don't really have any connections so I probably won't, but that's not the point. The point is that I've got a cool concept, which I hereby submit to you for comment!
The idea is that a man after learning of horrible evils perpetrated be someone (I've been thinking date rape by some frat boy) wishes to set it straight but can't. He prays for the power to fulfill justice. An angel (though physically and visually just a guy), truth, appears and tells him that there's a slot open for angel of justice and that because of his prayer he'll get to take the position. The really interesting part then starts.
Truth tells this guy that he doesn't want to be justice. I've decided he'd say something along these lines, "To be a force so indiscriminate and powerful, a force so immovable and implacable that God sent His beloved son to suffer and die on earth in order to save the rest of His children from it, do you really think you can want to deal with such an overwhelming strength?"
Well, because it's a comic book he'd say yes, and then be turned into a an fiery, angelic, and vicious engine of punishment. I envision this angel inflicting horrible torture and suffering on those who've done wrong. The man when he comes to (that is to say when the spirit of justice withdraws from him) is horrified by what he's done, what he's become. Throughout the comic he tries to stop it, hold the spirit back, but never can because the burning wrath of justice will always fall upon the wicked!
Anyway, I write this not to say, "hey, wouldn't I make a good comic writer? Isn't this a cool idea?" (though your thoughts as per that subject are welcome) but rather to ask, "What is justice?" My idea for this comic isn't just a cool idea for a cool story, I see justice as an overpowering and indiscriminate force. I think if justice were to have an earthly incarnation it would go around dispensing horrific punishment to those who commit horrific crimes. In the end, her scales when weighted to one side with abominations and evils will demand of Lady Justice to bring down her sword on the other with the same force, won't they?
I see mercy, personally through Christ's atonement, as the only force to offset justice. Do people force mercy into their conceptions of justice? I wonder if this is tied to the decline of religious belief, as Deity can dispense perfect justice but man can't. Perhaps man, without deity's guidance redefines justice for himself so as to seek it in a humane way?
I certainly believe that justice and mercy must work together. A human justice system must allow for mercy to a much greater degree than what one's conception of pure justice may be. Perhaps, though, this is the core of super-heroes. We want to believe in justice, we want to believe that those who do wrong will be punished by a force beyond our mortal abilities (as individuals and a society). The religious have a real belief in such a power in their God, if they envision Him as just. What about the secular? I really don't know, if you read this and do, please leave a comment.

Bring Me to [Spiritual] Life

I just read the account of Lazarus in the New Testament today. On this reading I made an important spiritual application. We all know that Christ is our savior, that he saves us from sin, but how often to we feel crushed by our sins? Overcome by the difficulties of life? Killed, spiritually, because of the wrongs we've done? That is when we need the Messiah the most, yet perhaps ironically it's when we give up the easiest. We tend to be very good at convincing ourselves that we're to far gone, that our ship has sailed, that we're already spiritually dead.
Martha and Mary both said to Jesus, "If You had been here, my brother would not have died." Today, I realized this is a backward looking attitude which plagues many of us. After the fact we lament our wrong actions (which we should to some degree, after all we're not repentant if we're thinking "Man, I'm so glad I shot that hooker"-that's right I'm talking to you GTA fans) and we think, "If only I had kept the Spirit with me, if only I had been Christlike then, I would not have sinned." While we need to take every effort to avoid sin, when we fall we need to remember that Christ can bring us out of our spiritual death, just as He brought Lazarus out of physical death.