“I’m a war of head verses heart, it’s always this way
My head is weak, my heart always speaks before I know what it will say”
- Crooked Teeth, Death Cab for Cutie

Talking about the distinction between soul and body is dangerous. It’s facetious. There is NO clear line between soul and body, mind and matter, reason and emotion. They are heuristic categories. We human beings love to multiply distinctions. We do it because it makes the world simpler, easier to understand, and more manageable. We love to categorize, to dissect, and to label. And it’s not wrong. We can’t have it any other way. But to do so is to risk losing sight of the fact that we are WHOLE. There is a human being. There is no digestive system, circulatory system. There isn’t a sex drive and an appetite. There is a human being. You were wrong, Clive Staples Lewis, when you said “You don’t have a soul. You are a soul. You have a body”. What we are is a human being. What you are doing is creating all sort of religious, philosophical, and ethical problems by multiplying distinctions where they ought not to be.

Why do we do this? First of all, because it’s easy. It’s easy to decide on a macro level where the eyeball ends and the skull begins, where the small intestine ends and the large intestine begins, where the tendon ends and the bone begins. But on a molecular level, no such distinction exists. On a macro level, we know when we are being driven by emotion and when we are being driven by reason. But if we subject our inner thoughts to deep introspection, we’ll realize that trying to distinguish the two is foolish; it is a result of an inadequate understanding of our cognition. It’s a result of oversimplifying our brain processes. The Vulcan race from the Star Trek franchise is an interesting philosophical thought experiment, but it would not be possible, nor would the existence of such a race be logically tenable. You might as well try to invent a race of beings that could only conceptualize numbers but not words.

If we were really honest with ourselves, we’d realize that all our emotions are a logical result of complex inner thought and logic. All of them are explainable, they all have an origin somewhere, no matter how confusing they seem to us. If we were really honest with ourselves, we’d realize that no one reason’s logically in an objective vacuum. Reason isn’t an impartial tool that we use to arrive upon an objective answer. If it were so, then why would we disagree? On anything? The two are inextricably connected. We can’t separate it.

Then WHY? Why do our feelings and thoughts always seem to be so opposed? Why do we speak in these terms? Why do we say things like, “Listen to your heart” as if our brains were out to steer us wrong? Why did Obi-freakin’-Wan tell Luke to “trust your feelings” instead of that expensive, high-tech targeting system in his X-wing fighter? Why does it seem like our hearts desires and our brains “oughts and shouldn’ts” are always in conflict?

I don’t know. I have a few insufficient answers. It could be the result of sin fracturing a being that God regarded as “good” and “whole” and “complete” into incomplete parts that are always in conflict with one another. It could be that after three thousand years of Western, Greek-influenced philosophy, we as a culture are ingrained in our understanding of what makes an individual that it’s impossible for us to imagine it any other way.

I think it’s our burden to unseat this misconception. It’s a great distinction for non-meaningful circumstances, such as when I say, “I hate working out, but I know it’s good for me, so my reason overrides my emotions”. But when it comes to the important issues, it’s dangerous. Because what does God save? Our souls? So our bodies are meaningless? We can treat it like trash and do whatever we want to it? That’s exactly the kind of reasoning that Paul wrote 1 Corinthians to combat.

Anyway, I don’t think anyone really goes to that extreme. I think this mis-led thinking is more insidious than that. Nobody says, “Well my soul is saved, so I might as well trash my body now”. But a lot of us are led to think that perhaps reasoning is more important than feeling and that we must subject our passions to our logic. Or some of us might go the other way and think that there are some questions in which “a logical answer isn’t possible” and that you had to trust your intuition. Both beliefs are wrong-headed. The first one is held under the mistaken assumption that you can actually reason objectively without letting your personal biases factor in, biases that are intrinsic to your very being, biases that all humans have because if you don’t have it then you wouldn’t have an identity. The second one is held under the mistaken assumption that intuition precludes logic. Your feelings tell a thousand tales of your reason; just in a language that you don’t understand.

Where am I going with all this? I’m re-reading some of my notes about Kierkegaard. Part of his life’s work is to remind Christians that choosing Christ is neither emotionally nor logically tenable. It’s a choice that’s doesn’t just go against your feelings, it goes against your reason. It is ultimately an “absurd leap of faith”. You didn’t choose Christ by reason; you didn’t do it because it was the most logical decision. You didn’t choose Christ because he fulfilled all your emotional needs. Yes, maybe that was the case on the surface. But ultimately, if you truly understood your faith, you’d realize that throwing all of yourself passionately onto this man-God is a choice that is made in absurdity.

If you wish to make an apple pie from scratch, you first have to invent the universe

Draper sent me this link: http://melindataub.com/god-twitters-creation/ and it reminded me of a lofty thought I had while I was taking a physics class over the summer. It is called:

How to create the universe in infinity easy steps
1) Create light.
2) Back up a second, you have to invent the concept of creation.
3) You can't back up without first explaining the concept of progress and sequence
4) But you can't have sequence without first setting in place the skeleton of sequence, which is time!
5) Okay, okay, it's clear what we need to do first is invent time.
6) Wait, what do you mean by "first"?
7) First is like, what takes place all the way on one end of the timeline; the end marked "beginning"
8) Alright, seriously, we're getting nowhere with this. If we want to invent time, let's just start by inventing numbers.
9) One....
10) Two...
11) Three...
12) Quick question, if we haven't got sequence yet, is this happening all at once?
13) Yes, and if you keep interrupting me, the universe will never be created!
14) I don't understand your statement
15) Oh right, I forgot. I haven't created the concept of causality yet. Well you see, I had in mind that the universe I created will be governed by these rules which I will call logic. What I just said is an example of a "conditional". It is a truth-function that takes on the form of an "if-then" statement. The truth of the second part (which I will call the apodosis) depends on the truth of the first part (the protasis). Anyway, my point is, the entire world will function this way. It is the language of propositions. It is what my humans will use to describe what's going on. Logic will be the backbone of language.
16) Uh... cool! Can you remind me again, what language is?
17) ...
18) And, what's truth?
19) Also, I forgot to mention, you didn't even explain what a concept is.
20) You seriously have to stop explaining things with other things that you haven't created yet.
21) Oh my God. Screw this.
22) Oh. My. WHAT!?

The Problem of Dissonance

It's been a while since my last attempt to be true to the purpose of my blog. A couple of times, I've dabbled with topics that deal with reason and revelation and the doubts of my faith, but nothing I've written so far can really count as sincere wrestling; not the direct wrestling with divine issues that I had hoped to accomplish for this blog. I think my reasons for staying so shallow on this blog thus far are two parts laziness, two parts fear, and one part I honestly don't know where to start. Well I've decided to get over my laziness. I don't know what it is I truly fear about writing my thoughts. One part is, I am anxious about people knowing that I struggle with such deep-seated doubts concerning my faith. Another part is, some of the things I believe and some of the things that I claim will be considered far-fetched, theologically unsound, doctrinally dangerous, and even blasphemous, especially because I am associated with such an orthodox, reformed church. But I think I've decided that if I do have beliefs that are wrong, they won't right themselves unless I subject them to the scrutiny of others anyway. And I always hope that what I write will resonate with someone else who ponders the same issues.

Having said all that, I still haven't a clue where to start. I feel like all the questions I have are webbed into an intricate network of issues with no discernible center or focus. Therefore, I've decided to do something that I'm not good at: approach all my issues haphazardly and unsystematically and hope my readers will see all the issues together as they bleed into one another.

Today I wanted to ask a question that I formulated one year and six months ago: "Why is dissonance beautiful?" Why do pleasure and pain, joy and suffering cling onto each other so inseparably that you cannot have one without the other?

The question as it exists in my mind is really difficult for me to explain because there are so many different levels and contexts in which I can ask it; yet I believe they are all related and all ultimately the same question. I suppose I'll approach it from three different angles.

1) One of the things you learn in literature 101 is that all good stories have a conflict. How interesting would it be if you read a story that began "Once upon a time", went on with "and, encountering no problems of disturbances from their current condition, they lived happily" and then ended with "and continuing their happy living, they lived happily ever after"? That tired old way of ending fairy tales is only meaningful if there were some conflict that needed resolving.

One thing I've become more and more aware of is a plot trope that you find in a lot of action-adventure movies. Towards the last third of the film, the protagonists have come up with a plan to resolve the conflict, whatever it is. But if the rest of the movie just showed the good guys pulling off their plan without a hitch; it would leave the last part lacking. So they throw a hitch into the plan in which a final turn in the plot can take place. One example of this is the movie Armageddon. At the end, just as they finally overcome all the other problems in their plan and is ready to take off from the asteroid, they find that they can't remotely detonate the bomb, so someone has to stay behind and play the sacrificial lamb. Another example is the movie Independence Day. At the end, they finally figure out a way to overcome the alien invader's shields, but after engaging the alien spaceship for a while, they realize that they're not doing enough damage and running out of missiles, thus necessitating a sacrificial lamb to fly into the alien craft as it's about to fire and blow it up.

My point is this: conflict drives the plot of a story. Without it, it would be incomplete. What is essential in a good story, whether it's a movie, book, or even something that happened in real life, is dissonance.

2) I've always HATED classical music. Not classical music in general. I love that. Classical music as in music written during the classical period; Mozart and Haydn and Salieri and the like. The mathematical precision of each piece, the perfect harmonies and most importantly, the lack of musical dissonance. Everything was perfect fifths and major thirds; all the chord progressions were neatly cadenced, all the ornaments and variations - predictably constructed. Every time I listen to Mozart, it always gave me the same sick feeling; the feeling you get when you eat too much candy all at once. Like the stomach-ache that follows an over-indulgence of sweets, classical-period music left me with an emptiness, a yearning for something more savory.

What's my favorite genre of classical music? I've always been a huge fan of late Romantic and Impressionist. My favorite composer is Chopin. Why? Because after Beethoven, classical music evolved and a new element was added. In the music, there was bitterness, there was discord, there were chords that don't work with each other. But it wasn't chaos. It wasn't the unintelligible, chaotic dribble of Schoenberg's atonal music; music without a center. There were absolutes. There were still key signatures, time signatures based in double and triple meter; there were still cadences and structures and stories; but the stories had more moods. If classical-period music was about unicorns and butterflies and fairy tales with happy-endings; Romantic music introduced sorrow and pain and darkness and told real-life stories. Classical-period music puked rainbows and lived in a dream world of pastel colors and unending sunshine; Romantic music grasped the ugliness of life and embraced rain and hail when it came.

I know there are people who find Mozart delightful. I am not calling them shallow people. I am, however, calling Mozart's music, standalone, shallow music. It's too perfect. It's too harmonious. It's too happy. And because of that, it's incomplete. What is the depth that Mozart is lacking? Dissonance.

3) My strength is music, so I have more metaphors from music to explain what I mean by dissonance. Even in its fundamental structure, music as the relation of certain sounds with others, there is the concept of consonance and dissonance. In music theory, the fifth interval (C to G, D to A, E to B and so on), is called a "perfect fifth" because there is a mathematical perfection in the relations of their frequencies. The fifth of a note is always 3/2 its frequency in hertz. Thus if A is 440kHz, the E above it is 660kHz. If I played a fifth interval on the piano for you, even if you were completely unmusical, you would say to me, "That's nice". You might not know the right words, but you would agree if I told you that it was "harmonious". But if I played for you two notes that were a half-step away from each other, you would say to me, "That's ugly" or "That sounds bad". If you heard it inadvertently, you might think that someone just accidentally sat on the keyboard.

My point is, even in the fundamental building blocks of music, in the theory and the math and physics that constitute its very structure, there is ingrained the idea of consonance and dissonance*. YET, dissonance is necessary! If we didn't have dissonance, we wouldn't have music. We would have harmonious chords; we'd have various nice sounds that can be created by instruments, but we wouldn't have music.

In a grander manner, if we didn't have dissonant chord progressions and conflicts in the plot of a musical piece, we would have nice-sounding music, but we wouldn't have beautiful music.

Dissonance is needed for beauty. Pain is needed for pleasure. Conflict is needed for resolution. But WHY?

You might be thinking, "Well this is not a big deal; all you've said so far is that in order to appreciate goodness, you need badness. In order for cadences to mean anything, you need a progression. In order for 'happily ever after' to mean anything, you need a problem" What's the big deal? It just means you need to hear some bad news first. It just means you need to hear some dissonant sounds in your musical piece. What's so bad about that?

But don't you see? In the grand picture, bad news isn't simply bad sounds. It's death, and pain and suffering! It's warfare and murder. It's selfishness and greed. It's theft, it's pride. It's envy and sorrow. It's the loss of one's children, the loss of one's parents. Dissonance in life is being born in a nation that's not the USA and being condemned to a life of hunger and extreme poverty. Dissonance in life is being born blind or being born without the ability to use your legs. Dissonance is unrequited love. Dissonance is splinters and canker sores. Dissonance is death. Dissonance is the knowledge that if you do everything right in life, you'll end up in the same cemetery as the guy who did everything wrong in life.

In one sense, this is no real revelation to the astute liver of life. We all know that life is pleasure and life is pain. "You take the good, you take the bad, you take 'em both and there you have: the facts of life". How do you measure a year? "In inches, in miles, in laughter and strife". To enjoy the sun is the run the risk of getting sunburn. To each a watermelon is to pick out the seeds. To eat steak is to kill a cow. To ask a girl out is to run the risk of being rejected. You can't separate out the pains of life. To do so would be to make it less beautiful, or less colorful. Read "The Giver", watch "Pleasantville", and they illustrate this idea better than I can ever do.

Yet, WHY? Why is it this way? Why is pain inextricable in life? Why is a life without pain bland and shallow and undesirable?

I have some answers. I have unsatisfying answers. They relate to our God. I'll bring the issue back to theodicy in my next post.

Absolutes

I've been thinking about absolutes a lot. The current album I'm obsessed with is "Absolutes" by Barcelona. I've been thinking about the need for absolutes as a defining part of my psycho-social constitution; as THE defining part of my formation that makes me what I am: A conservative, reformed-evangelical, Bible-believing, Chicago statement of inerrancy-signing Christian. But since I haven't worked out anything specific in that area, I'll just share one of my earlier thoughts regarding absolutes.

"Only a Sith deals in absolutes. I will do what I must" : Obi-Wan Kenobi, in Star Wars Episode III, referring to the evil Anakin Skywalker.

"Deals in absolutes --> Sith Lord" : Obi-Wan Kenobi, as rendered by the rules of Western formal logic.

"All who deals in absolutes are Sith Lords" : Obi-Wan Kenobi, as rendered by the rules of Aristotelian formal logic.

"All A are B" : One of the templates of a universal statement, or "absolute" statement.

I should probably add that, Obi-Wan was responding to Anakin's own statement, "If you're not with me, then you're against me", which is the same exact proposition form. But I think Russell's paradox has something to say about this bind.

I should also add that I haven't been completely true to the original purpose of this blog's creation. I haven't even come close to talking about the issues that intrigue me the most: the issues of reason, revelation, theodicy, and why I am a self-hating reformed evangelical Christian. Everything else that I write about are meaningful to me at an arm's length. But those issues frighten me; the ones that I really want to write about. They are so deeply ingrained into my own constitution as an individual that I afraid that if I begin talking about it, I will reveal too much. But soon. I'm almost ready.

Intolerable Tolerance

A repost of an excerpt from Chuck's blog.

"It is an interesting observation on today's religious climate that many people now get every bit as steamed up about insisting that 'all religions are just the same' as older dogmaticians did about insisting on particular formulations and interpretations. The dogma that all dogmas are wrong, the monolithic insistence that all monolithic systems are to be rejected, has taken hold of the popular imagination at a level far beyond rational or logical discourse. The 'remote god' view encourages it: if god is, or the gods are, far away and largely unknowable, all human religions must be vague approximations, different paths up the same mountain (and all paths get lost in the mist quite soon anyway). Equally, the pantheism that sees 'god' as the divine or sacred aspect within the present world leads ultimately in the same direction: if all religions are responding the to 'the sacred' in this sense, they are simply different languages expressing the same concept.

Few who embrace one or the other of these beliefs (or in some cases, it seems, both) stop to consider how remarkably arrogant and imperialistic these rejections of the supposedly arrogant and imperialistic religions actually are. They are saying with all the authority of the eighteenth-century Enlightenment behind them that they have discovered the hidden truth that all the great religions (especially Judaism, Christianity, and Islam) had missed: all religions are 'really' variations on the Enlightenment's idea of 'religion.' Well, of course: if you start with that idea, it would look like that, would it not?

But why should we believe the Enlightenment's arrogant claim any more than anyone else's? Some Christians, thinking to be generous-spirited toward those who embrace different faiths, have spoken of such people as 'anonymous Christians'; this is now generally accepted as hopelessly arrogant. Why should a Buddhist want to be an 'anonymous Christian?' But by that same token it is just as arrogant, if not more so, to claim that the adherents of all religions are really 'anonymous Enlightenment religious persons.'

We cannot, obviously, settle this huge debate here..."

-N.T. Wright, The Challenge of Jesus, pages 100-101

Habits of Learning

I am fully convinced that there are people out there who can learn more about the world by going out and mowing the lawn than other people do after four years of college and four years of grad school. Perhaps the fresh, earthly smell of cut grass will cause this person to ponder the beauty of the natural world. Upon reflecting on nature, he'll be reminded of Psalm 19 and be led to ruminate on the theology of general revelation. One doctrine will remind him of another doctrine and before he stows his lawnmower away in his garage, he will have discovered new truths about the world around him and the God that created it. That's one way I imagine a person can go about doing household chores.

Last week, I wrote about habits of reading and how poorly we Christians read our Bible. The truth is, there was nothing particularly spiritual in my criticism. I honestly think we as a culture are just horrendously inadequate when it comes to basic intellectual skills. Today, when I went to the PaLM-sponsored Worship Conference held in Queens with some of my praise team members, I was thinking about the skill of learning. I have to admit, after the initial worship session and the keynote message, I was thoroughly unimpressed. Although the rest of the conference, especially the workshops, was really good and I ended up being blessed greatly, I was worried because I really had to pull the teeth of my worship team members to shell out $65 and attend the conference. I was anxious that they'd think this day was going to be a waste of time and money and blame me for that.

So I decided to pull them aside right before the workshop session and remind them, "Remember, if you're really serious about learning, it's not about what they spoon-feed you, but what you decide to take from the plate and put into your mouth". The truth is, as bad as a conference can be (and that conference was EXCELLENT), you can always learn a lot by keeping your eyes and ears open and assessing every experience with a critical mind. "Why was I put off by what this person said?" "How can I verify that what this person said was true?" "What does Scripture have to say about this subject?" "As horribly as that person put it, what can I take away from his lesson?"

Even if it's something you've heard time and time again, you can still re-think those lessons and perhaps unravel some more of the big picture, or unearth some more of the epistemological foundation upon which your presumptions are built. What I mean is, even if it's something you've heard a lot, you can still ask yourself questions like, "Well where did I hear that the first time, and is it a valid idea?" "How did I as well as this presenter arrive upon the same conclusion?" "How might our agreement on this idea yet diverge into disagreement about this other, related idea?"

Why are these habits of asking good questions and being observant important? First of all, because I'm sick and tired of people complaining about how bored they are... in class (ahem, high schoolers), at Christian conferences (ahem, clergy and full-time ministers), or at church during a preacher's sermon (ahem, Boon Church English congregation!). And second, because critical learning not only allows you to take the most away from any situation, it also helps you to identify and reject harmful, wrong lessons! Think about it this way. If you are tied down to a chair and spoon-fed food, you are still being fed and nourished. But you won't be able to do much to defend yourself if someone comes along and scoops a big dollop of rat poison into your mouth. Whereas if you're someone who carefully examines everything you eat and make sure you choose only the finest quality cuisine, you will become a very healthy person.

The same can be said about our lives. Note I didn't say our "spiritual lives". This is a principle that goes beyond what we do concerning our faith; it's a principle that distinguishes intellectually fit men and women from intellectual fatties and slobs.

When I look down at my notes from today's conference, a little under half of it have to do with the subject, "Worship". The rest of my notes are just little things that I jot down as one thing a person said reminded me of something unrelated, or perhaps a reminder for me to think through something that I haven't really thought through. No one says you have to learn exactly what the speaker is teaching you. If he's a good enough speaker, he'll make you do it anyway. But if he's not, it's YOUR responsibility to get the most out of it.

Reflections From A Kingdom-Warrior

Last night, Pastor Scott, some members of the Boon Church servants team, and I had the wonderful opportunity of having dinner with Reverend Wayland Wong at Pastor Don’s house. A seasoned minister, Wayland is one of the most respected Chinese-American pastors in the country. Based out of Orange County, CA, he has been working with Chinese churches and is incredibly knowledgeable in the area of Chinese ministry and the unique cultural challenges with running a one in America. He has more decades of ministry experience than I have years (even including my years in HS as a youth leader).

I was really excited to meet him and drill him with questions because Chinese-American ministry happens to be my passion. I had been reading articles from a newsletter called FACE (Fellowship of American Chinese Evangelicals) that he started in the 70s. In addition, I had spent the last summer interning with ISAAC (Institute for the Study of Asian American Christianity) and was all ready to pick his brain about all the challenges and strategies of running a Chinese church. I had pictured him as someone very strategically-minded, a visionary, an outside-the-box thinker. I imagined he was sly, clever, perhaps even a little devious. I couldn’t imagine a person with any other kind of personality who would survive that long in his chosen field. As someone with so much experience, I was all ready for him to lay down some secrets, some dirty moves, some trick plays in order to get ahead of all the church bureaucracy. I was really expecting him to say things like “This is how you get a Chinese board of deacons on your side” or “When you start a ministry you know that they won’t like, make sure you do this and this”.

It turns out my expectations were way off. Instead of church-building strategy, he spent most of the night preaching to us, imploring us to have unity and love in Christ. He warned us multiple times about the dangers of “doing church” and missing the point of all of that church-building. He reminded us that ultimately we are called to build God’s kingdom, and not fight the Chinese board for more rights. He reminded us that no matter what circumstances we’re placed in, whether the English Congregation has its own budget or not, whether our voice is heard in church governing or not, we have the command from Christ to make disciples and to strengthen one another in Christ through the Word.

I was surprised, but when I got home, I began to understand it all. After a lifetime of serving the church, Reverend Wayland Wong had learned this precious piece of wisdom, and that is to bear in mind always what our ultimate purpose of doing church is. It is to glorify God and to see him magnified in the eyes of as many people as possibly in the world. He had probably seen time after time how easy it is for church leaders to lose sight of this and disintegrate into bickering, gossiping, slander, and church-splitting. He had probably felt the passion in each of our hearts in PD’s house that night, and recognized that same danger within us, and that was why he chose to spend most of the night reminding us of the true purpose of church.

He gently encouraged us to seek change and revival not in grand church changes, not in a parallel church-leadership (that is to say, a Chinese board AND an English board), not in new programs or events, not in coffeehouses or praise nights or revivals, but in individuals. He reminded us that revival starts with individuals gripped with a powerful desire to return to God, and those individuals seeking out other individuals to teach, admonish, encourage, rebuke, pray with, and search Scripture with. And those individuals forming groups, and those groups coming together to be the body of Christ. As he spoke, my eyes were opened to how much more I could be doing RIGHT NOW, with the circumstances that God has placed me in.

I am so young. Within me there is still so much fight, so much fire, so much youthful passion. Yet another thing Reverend Wayland said was how important it was to choose your battles, and not just that but know who you’re battling. The enemy is not other people. It’s not another congregation or another church or another church leader. It is Satan, who’s work is to divide God’s people and destroy the work of the gospel. If we don’t keep that in mind, we’ll be lost within our own selfish desires and deceptively personal causes and the work of the kingdom will not be done.

I want to challenge you, Christian. What’s important in your life? What battles have you fought and are they the one’s that will win ground for Christ’s kingdom? If you’ve lived your life safely, always seeking stability, keeping your head down and trying not to offend anyone, then where is your passion, your urgency to see the gospel go out? Do you have that fire in your belly, that devotion in your will? Tonight, I was reminded of what ought to be the most important thing in my life. I hope reading this gives you an opportunity to reflect on what that is for you.