April 2010 – Page 2 – Simon Fowler

30 days of relational thinkin’ and livin’ (First Follower)

The foundation of human flourishing is relationship. Ultimately, the foundation is love, but love is predicated on relationship. The more “proximate” one person/entity is to another, the better/healthier the relationship, therefore the greater flourishing. This project goal is to to gather data about, and to encourage, the health and vitality of relationships between: individuals, groups, institutions, even countries.

Sometimes I’ve believed as many as six impossible things before breakfast.

Resurrection.
Wave-particle duality.
Perfect Love.
Pluto not being a planet.
Purpose beyond reproduction.
The Red Sox ending an 86-year World Series drought.

Today was a special day to remember the resurrection of Jesus Christ – and therefore the possibility of my own resurrection – and realize that I still believed this particular impossible thing.

We’re not entirely rational creatures (see David Rock’s work on how our brains work).

The scientific method takes a leap of faith in its non-empirical reliance on reason. And it seems to benefit very much from doing so. Being finite beings we have to start somewhere ‘inside’, with certain assumptions for which we have no foundations. And reason is a good one that continues to work.

But it’s not all we need. Purpose and love seem to have a role in our creatureliness also. Though not irrational, they don’t seem entirely rational either.

Impossible is one of those words that we should have a little bit of reluctance to utter. It’s too often used to shut down the mind and imagination. It’s too often the result of an unquestioned paradigm that itself fails to adequately explain the way life actually is, or should be, or could be.

When a friend cries out, in the midst of grief, “Why?!”, don’t give them a ‘reason’. When a student or colleague cries out, “why not??”, don’t immediately give them a ‘reason’. Words and reason are not always up to the task of explaining purpose, or [im]possibility. And neither are they often adequate or sufficient for demonstrating love.

The life, death and resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead is a seemingly impossible reality that yet exemplifies and creates in me reason, purpose and love. As difficult as that might be to swallow, before or after breakfast, He informs and empowers me about the way life actually is, could be and should be.

P.s. I tried to make this note include something about the First Follower project as part of my weekly obligation. In fact it has been present in my mind all the way through because David Sivers, Andrew Dubber and Andrew Wicklander are people who seem to you scream out, “don’t tell me this is impossible!” and they encourage others to go beyond the present limits of our imaginations. God has weaved possibility into the fabric of all his creatures.

I have no other explanation

20 years ago today, on Good Friday, I was sitting in the lounge at my parent’s house in Harrow, north-west London, happening to look at the clock, 4:20pm, and I thought to myself, “oh my! … wow! … God exists?!”. And then amazingly my life went in a different direction. So my dad said, a better one. I have no other explanation other than that the invisible God, who came in the person of Jesus of Nazareth that first Good Friday 2000 years ago and was crucified on a cross, inexplicably made himself known to me and put a different Spirit within me.

This isn’t an argument for faith, for faith in God, or even faith in Jesus Christ. This is just (part of) my story. Make of it what you will. I may dare, in future posts, to try to make an argument for those, but that’s not what this is. Everyone has a story to tell, and this is mine. The story is still ongoing. And truly, it will only make sense, to me or anyone, if it’s part of the bigger story that God himself is telling.

A few weeks earlier an American exchange student, Karen, turned up at my volleyball club. A normal, funny and energetic person who confounded me by being normal, having deep faith in Jesus Christ and was able to say, “er, yeh, I don’t know, that’s a good question, I don’t get that either”. Her realness made it impossible to write her off as a whack job.

I was 22, fit and healthy, and had friends, family, parents, sport, car, travel, money, girls. I was at the peak, really, of life. No need nor searching for God or party-pooping religion.

Conversations with Karen revealed a couple of things, both profound. One was that I’d never actually thought about my life, purpose, meaning, reality, God. I had no intellectual or reflective life at all. In fact, I didn’t read, or think, about anything. The other was that there was a depth – of wonder and of grief – to life that I hadn’t known but now realized was real. So I was compelled to give these some serious attention. In retrospect, that was probably the moment that God took the blinders off me.

She handed me Mere Christianity, by C.S. Lewis. I read it. Didn’t get it. Read it again. Still didn’t get it. As I said, I had NO intellectual life. Twice more. And on the fourth time, at 4:20pm, that Good Friday, I thought, “Holy Cow!? oops, sorry lord! But wow!”. And that was it. It felt like a revelation, though deciding if I was going to live “for God” or not felt like a real decision, albeit a no-brainer.

I have no other explanation for what happened next other than that the Jesus-God changed my heart and mind: I started think and have compassion for the poor (and ended up in El Salvador during the civil war and in the Burmese jungle instead of sight-seeing around the world). I started feeling, and slowly showing, gratitude and love for my parents (my dad started liking me). I started to feel that maybe, given the ghastliness of the world, that maybe I should and could do something about it (still working out what that means). I started to take an interest in this amazing world (I developed an intellectual life and an appreciation for art and beauty). In my initial zeal I did go through an embarrassing black-and-white phase that I’m afraid didn’t show a lot of sensitivity or understanding to those who disagreed with me (I like to think I developed some humility quickly).

I’m sure more people do these things already, and do them better and with more heart and sincerity and actual action than I ever will. All I’m saying is that I changed, and I have no other explanation for it than Jesus the God-man who was crucified, so it seems, for me. Not just me, but yet me.

I say I changed because of him because I see and feel his death, and resurrection, as effecting love, truth*, forgiveness and reconciliation in me. Love, truth, forgiveness and reconciliation. These seem good to me. But they diminish when I pull away from God or think more about myself than of others, they grow as I trust in him and give my life for others.

That’s my story. Not everyone’s is like that, though I’ve met many who tell similar stories. It also doesn’t quite make sense yet. Life and reality doesn’t make a lot of sense yet actually. But I believe in One who ultimately will make sense of it. And so far it seems a good, even if not easy, path to be on.

* I want it. I don’t care, really, what it is, even if it ends up meaning that Jesus isn’t true. I don’t like hell or death and I’d love it if gravity would sometimes not be there, but if they’re real I’m an idiot to deny them. I’m aware of ontological and epistemological truths (told you I started reading), that there is Truth, and truth, and that some truths are relative. But I have both deep conviction and, as far as I’m able, a totally open mind to where the evidence takes me. You’ll have to take my word for it.