Encountering God
Originally Published in the South Jetty Newpaper
A good friend loaned me a book called Anarchy Evolution. She thought I might like it since I used to be in a punk band and it is written by the front man from the band Bad Religion. The author also happens to be an evolutionary biologist. I have indeed enjoyed the book in which he explores the evolution of punk rock music weaving together science, music, and his own world view. You may (or may not) be surprised to be learning about this book here since the author is an atheist. That's one theme of his book.
The funny thing, to me, about reading about his atheism, and why he doesn't believe in god, is that the god he describes, the one that he doesn't believe in, I don't believe in either. It's been a while since I took a debate class, but in many cases it seems he has set up a straw-man argument, and rightfully has knocked it down. Now, his book is more complex than just focusing on his beliefs, but it reminds me of other conversations I have had with folks who have turned away from organized religion because they did not believe what they thought the institution expected them to believe.
It leads me back to one of the cornerstones of my own trust in a God who is always just beyond any definition I might attempt; it leads me back to Psalm 139: "Lord you have searched me out and known me. You know my sitting down and my rising up, you discern my thoughts from afar…where can I go from your Spirit and where can I flee from your presence? If I take the wings of the morning and dwell in the uttermost parts of the sea, even there your right hand will lead me…if I rise up to heaven, you are there, if I make the grave my bed, you are there also…how deep I find your thoughts, O God. If I were to count them they would be more in number than the sand…to count them all my life span would need to be like yours."
The relationship with God described in Psalm 139 is at once intimate and expansive. It points to the ever-beyond reality of the experience of God, rather than trying to explain who and what God is. Our Wednesday morning Bible Study just finished reading Job. Or, perhaps Job just finished with us. The endurance it takes to read through the whole story is part of the point. We suffer through this repetitious and poetic story of Job's suffering until, with him, we give up. And at that point, God speaks. Job's sufferings are not explained by God. We all wanted them to be explained, as the three friends of Job try to explain his suffering to him. Instead, Job has an encounter and an experience of God that reminds him of the vast complexity of the universe, and that God is even beyond that. Job is brought down low, and lifted up high. Finally, at the end of his suffering he has an encounter that puts him at peace, it does not explain-away what has happened or will happen, but shows him that his life, however it moves forward, will be laced with this mystical connection with the experience we call God.
The stories of scripture recall a history of these experiences. The Bible is not science as we understand science today, but the story of the experience of God. The stories point us toward a way of experiencing life that is intimate and expansive. A way of living life that is open to encountering something greater than ourselves. Job and Psalm 139 have a setting in nature, out away from things, out away from preconceived notions of who or what God is, and they lead us into the mystery of that encounter.
I'm grateful to my friend for sharing the Anarchy Evolution book with me, and I sometimes recognize a familiar voice in the author's writing. The book was a reminder to me that the perception of organized religions is often that it limits and restricts individuals; which is a stark contrast to my own experience of finding it to be a community of people who have encountered something beyond, an experience of God that is at once intimate and expansive. A community of encouragers who journey together anticipating and learning to be open to where that encounter might happen next, be it in the pages of scripture, or gathered around an altar, or a laboratory, or gazing at stars on the beach after the sun has set.
A good friend loaned me a book called Anarchy Evolution. She thought I might like it since I used to be in a punk band and it is written by the front man from the band Bad Religion. The author also happens to be an evolutionary biologist. I have indeed enjoyed the book in which he explores the evolution of punk rock music weaving together science, music, and his own world view. You may (or may not) be surprised to be learning about this book here since the author is an atheist. That's one theme of his book.
The funny thing, to me, about reading about his atheism, and why he doesn't believe in god, is that the god he describes, the one that he doesn't believe in, I don't believe in either. It's been a while since I took a debate class, but in many cases it seems he has set up a straw-man argument, and rightfully has knocked it down. Now, his book is more complex than just focusing on his beliefs, but it reminds me of other conversations I have had with folks who have turned away from organized religion because they did not believe what they thought the institution expected them to believe.It leads me back to one of the cornerstones of my own trust in a God who is always just beyond any definition I might attempt; it leads me back to Psalm 139: "Lord you have searched me out and known me. You know my sitting down and my rising up, you discern my thoughts from afar…where can I go from your Spirit and where can I flee from your presence? If I take the wings of the morning and dwell in the uttermost parts of the sea, even there your right hand will lead me…if I rise up to heaven, you are there, if I make the grave my bed, you are there also…how deep I find your thoughts, O God. If I were to count them they would be more in number than the sand…to count them all my life span would need to be like yours."
The relationship with God described in Psalm 139 is at once intimate and expansive. It points to the ever-beyond reality of the experience of God, rather than trying to explain who and what God is. Our Wednesday morning Bible Study just finished reading Job. Or, perhaps Job just finished with us. The endurance it takes to read through the whole story is part of the point. We suffer through this repetitious and poetic story of Job's suffering until, with him, we give up. And at that point, God speaks. Job's sufferings are not explained by God. We all wanted them to be explained, as the three friends of Job try to explain his suffering to him. Instead, Job has an encounter and an experience of God that reminds him of the vast complexity of the universe, and that God is even beyond that. Job is brought down low, and lifted up high. Finally, at the end of his suffering he has an encounter that puts him at peace, it does not explain-away what has happened or will happen, but shows him that his life, however it moves forward, will be laced with this mystical connection with the experience we call God.
The stories of scripture recall a history of these experiences. The Bible is not science as we understand science today, but the story of the experience of God. The stories point us toward a way of experiencing life that is intimate and expansive. A way of living life that is open to encountering something greater than ourselves. Job and Psalm 139 have a setting in nature, out away from things, out away from preconceived notions of who or what God is, and they lead us into the mystery of that encounter.
I'm grateful to my friend for sharing the Anarchy Evolution book with me, and I sometimes recognize a familiar voice in the author's writing. The book was a reminder to me that the perception of organized religions is often that it limits and restricts individuals; which is a stark contrast to my own experience of finding it to be a community of people who have encountered something beyond, an experience of God that is at once intimate and expansive. A community of encouragers who journey together anticipating and learning to be open to where that encounter might happen next, be it in the pages of scripture, or gathered around an altar, or a laboratory, or gazing at stars on the beach after the sun has set.
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