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Forgiveness, Faith, and Existence
Feb. 28th, 2013 01:25 pmThe following article has some strong religious overtones. If this bothers you, please skip past this.
One of the things I've often heard people say is that Christianity is a crutch. The sentiment, or at last one form of it, was expressed in Robert J. Sawyer's Neanderthol series. He put forward the notion that our faith exists that we may absolve ourselves of the responsibilities of our actions or circumstances. I did something terrible, God forgives me, bingo, I don't have to feel badly anymore. Someone I love died, bingo, they're in Heaven, so I can work under the myth that I'll see that person again. That sort of thing.
If only it were that simple.
Before I go on, I have to say that I almost envy Roman Catholics in this respect. According to their beliefs, to which I do not hold, they have these bases covered: a priest can offer absolution, and you can pray for the souls of the dead. I'm not here to write an article explaining why I do not hold to these beliefs, let's just say that I do not, and leave it at that. for now.
First of all, I believe that only God has the authority to forgive sin. A clergyperson can help me come to terms with it, to understand it and its consequences, to move forward in the correct way, but only God has the authority or the means to do the actual forgiving. And that forgiveness does not give me any luxury of forfeiting responsibility, there are still consequences. If I hurt you, the fact that I have been forgiven does not change the fact that your having been hurt is my responsibility, and I must make amends as best I can, not to God, but to you. So the notion that my faith entitles me to not assume responsibility has no basis. Quite the contrary. If I claim God's forgiveness and then don't follow up by putting things right where I can, it's a whole new sin. By grace am I forgiven, by my subsequent actions do I acknowledge my need for that grace and my gratitude for receiving it. If I put gasoline into a car, I give it fuel to take me across the province, but the fuel itself, without the spark, without the actions of the motor, can take me nowhere. Because I have acceptd the forgiveness given me freely, I have a responsibility that an unforgiven person does not have: a responsibility to my Forgiver.
And it's been almost twelve years now. Dad is still dead. I still grieve. Does my faith ease the grieving process? Yes, but not in the way Mr. Sawyer claimed. My comfort is not in the hope that I will see Dad again, but rather, it's much more difficult to explain. The comfort comes not from my faith itself, but from the God who is the object of my faith. This is the much more difficult aspect of all this to put into words, maybe I shouldn't even try. I will say that for me, life demands a purpose, a reason. If the galaxy and all of its people and legacies will all eventually be destroyed without a trace, that's that, then why bother. Sentience without purpose is futility. If ultimately, when all is said and done, I'm destined to wind up a few scattered atoms among other scattered atoms, why bother with the whole fight, it's just a charade anyway. If there is no God, there is absolutely no point in there being a Bruce Toews. But there is a Bruce Toews.
One of the things I've often heard people say is that Christianity is a crutch. The sentiment, or at last one form of it, was expressed in Robert J. Sawyer's Neanderthol series. He put forward the notion that our faith exists that we may absolve ourselves of the responsibilities of our actions or circumstances. I did something terrible, God forgives me, bingo, I don't have to feel badly anymore. Someone I love died, bingo, they're in Heaven, so I can work under the myth that I'll see that person again. That sort of thing.
If only it were that simple.
Before I go on, I have to say that I almost envy Roman Catholics in this respect. According to their beliefs, to which I do not hold, they have these bases covered: a priest can offer absolution, and you can pray for the souls of the dead. I'm not here to write an article explaining why I do not hold to these beliefs, let's just say that I do not, and leave it at that. for now.
First of all, I believe that only God has the authority to forgive sin. A clergyperson can help me come to terms with it, to understand it and its consequences, to move forward in the correct way, but only God has the authority or the means to do the actual forgiving. And that forgiveness does not give me any luxury of forfeiting responsibility, there are still consequences. If I hurt you, the fact that I have been forgiven does not change the fact that your having been hurt is my responsibility, and I must make amends as best I can, not to God, but to you. So the notion that my faith entitles me to not assume responsibility has no basis. Quite the contrary. If I claim God's forgiveness and then don't follow up by putting things right where I can, it's a whole new sin. By grace am I forgiven, by my subsequent actions do I acknowledge my need for that grace and my gratitude for receiving it. If I put gasoline into a car, I give it fuel to take me across the province, but the fuel itself, without the spark, without the actions of the motor, can take me nowhere. Because I have acceptd the forgiveness given me freely, I have a responsibility that an unforgiven person does not have: a responsibility to my Forgiver.
And it's been almost twelve years now. Dad is still dead. I still grieve. Does my faith ease the grieving process? Yes, but not in the way Mr. Sawyer claimed. My comfort is not in the hope that I will see Dad again, but rather, it's much more difficult to explain. The comfort comes not from my faith itself, but from the God who is the object of my faith. This is the much more difficult aspect of all this to put into words, maybe I shouldn't even try. I will say that for me, life demands a purpose, a reason. If the galaxy and all of its people and legacies will all eventually be destroyed without a trace, that's that, then why bother. Sentience without purpose is futility. If ultimately, when all is said and done, I'm destined to wind up a few scattered atoms among other scattered atoms, why bother with the whole fight, it's just a charade anyway. If there is no God, there is absolutely no point in there being a Bruce Toews. But there is a Bruce Toews.
