Slice of Infinity: Where the keys are lost

Another excellent article that brings some perspective on media, criticism and harping on everyone else's problems instead of our own.

Where the Keys are Lost

A classic vaudeville routine begins with a pitch-black theater except for a large circle of light coming from a street lamp. In the spotlight, a man is on his knees, crawling with his hands in front of him, carefully probing the lighted circle. After a few moments a policeman walks on stage. Seeing the man on all fours, he poses the obvious question: "Did you lose some­thing?"

"Yes," the man replies. "I have lost my keys."

Kindly, the police officer joins the man's search, and two figures now circle the lighted area on hands and knees. After some time, the officer stops. "Are you absolutely certain this is where you lost your keys? We've covered every inch."

"Why no," the man replies matter-of-factly, pointing to a darkened corner. "I lost them over there."

Visibly shaken, the policeman exclaims, "Well, then why in the name of all heaven are we looking for them over here?"

The man responds with equal annoyance: "Isn't that obvious? The light is better over here!"

The classic comedy enacts a subtle point. It is far easier to limit our examining of life's missing keys to easy, comfortable places. Like a modern parable, the story registers an illogic common to most. Searching dark and difficult corners—where the keys may have in fact been lost—is far less desirable.

Somewhere between reading belittling headlines of a once-popular celebrity and hearing an open invitation to weigh-in on the latest political scandal, I wondered if the drama didn't register something more. It is becoming increasingly difficult to avoid the signs that we, particularly in the west, live in a world of criticism. We are encouraged by all facets of the media to examine the flaws of everyone, to search for the scandal in every story, and to pour over everything that divides us, offends us, or otherwise differs from us in any way.

But more than this, we are encouraged to opine and criticize regardless of whether we know anything about the subject or person whatsoever. Online news articles have a section for comments where readers are invited to put their own remarks in writing. And comment they do. The long list of critics offers thoughts on anything from the topic, to the author, to things completely unrelated. Carrying this one step further, Amazon not only invites anyone to be an official book reviewer; they also invite anyone to comment on these comments, to vote on whether or not the reviewers themselves need to be critiqued. While I appreciate some of these services, the attitude they endorse seems so pervasive. Everyone is now a critic and an expert at once.

And this is where the man in the drama seems unquestionably familiar. How easy is it to search where the light is strong, to examine the faults and scandals of others as if it were the best place to logically spend our time? As the light of the media shines on an individual or the light of gossip draws our attention like searchlights to a grand opening, how easy is it to declare this particular spot the place we will fully scrutinize? How readily do we prefer to be critics of those in the spotlight rather than fumble over our own flaws in the dark?

In the Christian season of Lent, where some attempt the darkened option of self-examination, it is helpful to know that Jesus was aware just how tempting is the option of the easier route. "Why do you look at the speck of sawdust in your brother's eye and pay no attention to the plank in your own? ... You hypocrite, first take the plank out of your own eye, and then you will see clearly to remove the speck from your brother's eye" (Matthew 7:3-4). The flaws we see in pop-stars, politicians, and co-workers may seem so startlingly clear to us. The critiques and opinions we can so readily offer about books and public scandal, internal gossip and things about which we actually know little all may seem innocent enough. But might there not be a better place to spend our energy searching? Maybe we are looking where the light is strong, but not where keys are really lost.

An old proverb explains, "The mocker seeks wisdom and finds none, but knowledge comes easily to the discerning." Perhaps this is true because the mocker spends his time searching the comfortable places of life, the easy targets where light and company will always be found. The difficult, dimly-lighted places require much more of us, and often we are left to search on our own. But the discerning know that wisdom comes with the kind of seeking that pulls us inward, into places where there is actually something to find, and before a throne that compels transparency. Here, everyone who seeks finds, the lost themselves are discovered, and once dark corners of the soul are changed by the light of Christ.

Slice of Infinity: Why isn't God more obvious?

Another great post from this devotional... How many of us have asked this question? Hope this brings some truth on this subject!

Why Isn't God More Obvious?

Why is it that God does not seem to approach in a much more obvious way? One answer has been that God's existence is not a matter of reality and facts. Isn't it more of a faith position, anyway? More of a leap in the dark than an evaluation of evidence?

I would agree that God isn't "forcefully obvious," but I don't think that this confines God to being a "take-it-or-leave-it" matter of faith. I think it makes more sense to see God as clearly visible, whilst not being forcefully obvious.

Did you know that the Bible actually recognizes the validity of the question we are asking? First, we see passages that affirm the human perception that God seems hidden. In Job 23:8-9 we read, "But if I go to the east, he is not there; if I go to the west, I do not find him. When he is at work in the north, I do not see him; when he turns to the south, I catch no glimpse of him."

Interestingly, there are also many examples of God appearing as if veiled in darkness, whilst still simultaneously offering his presence.(1) For instance we read that, "The people remained at a distance, while Moses approached the thick darkness where God was." Jesus, too, invites people to trust in him and then leaves and hides himself. In John we find the story of a paralytic man who is healed, but then Jesus slips away into the crowd. Luke records that as news about Jesus spread, "he often withdrew to lonely places." Later, Jesus tells the disciples that, "Before long, the world will not see me any more, but you will see me." Interestingly in many of these cases, God provides a clear glimpse of God's reality, while at the same time veiling the fullness of that presence.

So perhaps an unavoidable part of the Bible's answer to why God seems hidden is because it's true. But why? And what about those times when we need a present God most, when God could offer us real hope in times of suffering?

Well, when Jesus resisted the crowd, he concealed his identity until exactly the right moment in time to explicitly disclose it. This was a wise decision as the consequences of more explicit or obvious disclosure led fairly quickly to a successful campaign to have him executed.

Moreover, some things are clear, even obvious, without being forcefully so. And crucially, there is also no reason why something of this nature might not require some learning to begin to perceive or see on our part. For example, imagine that I said that it is obvious, but not forcefully so, that you will need your passport to fly internationally. Now, notice carefully that you have to learn this bit of information. It is certainly not like a forcefully obvious brick wall that you cannot avoid. But it would still perhaps be a case of a failure to grasp the obvious if you arrived at the airport with your bags packed but without your passport. It's this second sense (of non-forceful obviousness or avoidable clarity) that the case for God can be confidently approached.

But might this idea of God hiding merely provide a clever way for Christians to cling onto God in a scientific and evidence demanding age? This has been argued. Yet Christians do not claim that God doesn't show himself, but rather that God chooses the means of the showing. And God's hiddenness may well be necessary to bring focus to the way God declares his existence through Jesus Christ. In fact, divine hiding creates the possibility of a more obvious disclosure or uncovering.

Atheist Bertrand Russell famously quipped that if he were faced with God when he died, he would demand an explanation for why God made the evidence of his existence so insufficient. We might be tempted to think he was being entirely reasonable. But perhaps the evidence we demand for God is directly related to who we think God is and what we think God's purposes are. Hiddenness would make no sense if God's aim was simply to relate to us as an object of knowledge that offered no real relational connection or friendship. If this was the divine purpose—that we would simply acknowledge God's existence—then I am sympathetic to Russell's demand for more evidence.

But let us suppose that God was unwilling to make an approach to human life merely through the intellect. Instead, let us imagine that God is seeking a relationship that is based upon a deeper and more profound personal insight or perception. Have you ever asked what kind of a relationship God might want with you?

Moreover, God has indeed been revealed plainly in the reality of a redemptive plan and action. The gospel is described as a mystery now made known. Many Christians can recall moments, or even seasons spanning years, where God has been plainly and clearly at work and life has been saturated with the presence and grace of Father, Son, and Spirit. Faith isn't a blind faith, but a response to the evidence. It is based on real events that can be

investigated. A leap in the dark has never been the offer, as it is about stepping into the light.

So perhaps the evidence that we demand is a consequence of who we think God is and what we think God's purposes are? If God loves you and wants you to freely choose to return that love then perhaps sending his Son for you is enough to catch your attention?

Tom Price is Academic Tutor at the Oxford Centre for Christian Apologetics and a member of the speaking team at Ravi Zacharias International Ministries in Europe.

(1) Cf. Psalm 10:1; 22:1-2; 30:7; 44:23-24; 88:13-14; 89:46; Isaiah 45:15.

A time of refocusing...

Every season comes with new challenges and good reminders of how far we've come. With the coming of Lent, another season has come: A time to refocus.

If any of you know me well enough, you know video games and the gaming industry are a large part of my life. I have been called the "gaming guru" by some and have been labeled by many as a "gamer". I read the gaming news every day, have done it for the past ten years...and I am convicted. How much would I know of His word if I had taken some time out of my daily ritual?

So as my sacrifice for Lent, I am taking away this activity for this season. I am not blogging about this to say "Oh man, Look at Ben! Isn't he great!". I blog this because I ask for prayer. This is not going to be an easy thing to do. I will try to update this blog a couple times a week updating on what I have learned.

Thanks so much for your prayers. To Him be the glory in this season of refocusing.

BC (G.2:20)

This is a daily email devotional I get from Ravi Zacharias's website. It is called "Slice of Infinity", there have been some really good thoughts in these devotionals. Hope it helps you think as well as I do. If I find any other notable ones, I will post them on here.

What Is Human?



"What does it mean to be human?" has been the inquiring theme of more than a few journals, conferences, and special reports. It is a question that is considered from anthropological, theological, and biological perspectives, from within medical, ethical, and spiritual circles. Yet regardless of the examiner, any plumbing of the depths of the nature of humanity is a discovery that the implications are as far-reaching as the subject itself.



Generation after generation, voices that have spoken to the question of human nature often reflect something of the paradoxical character of humanity. Plato described human life in terms of the dualistic qualities he observed. While the mind is representative of the intellectual soul, the stomach is an appetitive beast that must be tamed. Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn wrote of the human propensity for both compassion and cruelty at once. "The line dividing good and evil cuts through the heart of every human being."(1)
Speaking in the 17th century, Blaise Pascal made note of further dueling extremes present within humanity. "For after all, what is man in nature? A nothing in relation to infinity, all in relation to nothing, a central point between nothing and all—and infinitely far from understanding either... He is equally incapable of seeing the nothingness out of which he was drawn and the infinite in which he is engulfed."(2)



What does it mean to be human? The seeming paradoxes in and around us make the question difficult to answer. We sense at times within us contradiction and inconsistency—a desire to be a good friend beside the wherewithal to manipulate or exploit, the intention to be a good neighbor beside the tendency to walk away without helping. I find it reminiscent of Aslan's response to the children in Prince Caspian: "'You come of the Lord Adam and the Lady Eve,' said Aslan. 'And that is both honour enough to erect the head of the poorest beggar, and shame enough to bow
the shoulders of the greatest emperor in earth.'"



As a Christian, I understand my own inconsistencies by the explanation given in the Christian story. Humans are bearers of God's image, made with the intention and care of a good Creator. But it is a reflection that has become blurred. The image of God in humanity is an image tarnished. We have been made in God's image, but it is an image that needs restoration, reviving, resuscitation.



In the company of Pascal and Solzhenitsyn, I find Christian doctrine to provide the only framework that makes sense of the contradictions within us. But far more than this, it is also the only framework that redeems the tension within us, the tension between my identity as a child of God and a daughter of humanity. New Testament writers have assured the promise is ours: "Just as we have borne the image of the man of dust, we will also bear the image of the man of heaven." For Christ is not only at work redeeming a fallen humanity,
cleansing us from the sin that corrupts our nature. Christ came to unite humanity with God so that we can be truly human.



This is far more hopeful news than other worldviews or self-help plans impart. For if true humanity is a humanity fully united to its creator, then the possibility is ours. Acting on our own power and authority, independent of God, we merely expose our alienation from God and from our true selves. We fail to know what it means to be fully human. But united to Christ through faith we are united to another nature entirely. Writes one disciple, "[God] has given us his very great and precious promises, so that through them you may participate in the divine nature and escape the corruption in the world caused by evil desires" (2 Peter 1:4).



While Christ is the one who makes our resuscitation possible, the one who restores in us the image of God, the process of reviving is also something we actively take hold of as human beings united to the Son. In
other words, to live as children made in God's image and united to Christ is not a static hope, but an active calling. "So then," in the words of Paul, "just as you received Christ Jesus as Lord, continue to live in him, rooted and built up in him, strengthened in the faith as you were taught, and overflowing with thankfulness" (Colossians 2:6-7).



What does it mean to be human? Perhaps we only begin to answer this immense inquiry when we turn to the one who shows us the very meaning of the word.





Jill Carattini is managing editor of A Slice of Infinity at Ravi Zacharias International Ministries in Atlanta, Georgia.



(1) Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn, The Gulag Archipelago: 1918-1956 (New York: Harper Collins, 2002), 75.
(2) Blaise Pascal, Pensess (New York: Penguin, 1995), 61.