Wisdom in the Past Tense

I’ve been reminiscing quite a bit lately about a time, a little over a decade ago, in which I’m convinced the world was a better place. Certainly our life as a family was in a better place, at least, but that isn’t the overall theme of this post. We were living in a different state, then, and had made close friends with a couple several years older than we were. I miss that relationship more than I can express today, as we enter a difficult period of life (perhaps more on that in a later post), because, whatever we went through in those days, this couple had experienced at some level. Job changes, moves, the birth of our first child, the loss of grandparents…they had experienced these life events, and were there to give us support, encouragement, and wisdom. We could learn how to walk through those events because of their experiences before us.

Historically, human beings have looked to people older than them for wisdom. Wisdom is an interesting thing. There’s an entire genre of Biblical writing dedicated to it, and we all crave it, even though we may call it by a different name. In the same way that the knowledge that you are not alone gives strength, the knowledge that someone else has experienced what you are experiencing (not in the abstract, but someone with whom you are actually close) and can give relevant advice is so life-giving. Even if that person gives no advice and is just present with you as you walk through a point in life, the awareness of their experience causes their presence to give you strength.

“Respect your elders” used to be the advice given to children, and gray hair was seen as a sign of honor.

Culturally and, I think, Biblically, there is a responsibility that comes with being that elder. There is, or at least should be, a social contract of sorts that says you will be present in the lives of your younger friends, that you will endeavor to give the best advice that you can when called upon, and to eschew the giving of advice on a area in which you don’t have experience. Getting older isn’t just getting discounts and free meals…you’ve lived through some stuff, and now you have a responsibility to assist others who are living through the same stuff after you.

In academia, this showed up in subtle ways. Older sources are respected, weighed more heavily. Newer research must stand up against rigorous review in order to contradict what has been known for some time. This places greater checks and balances against error or…dare I say this?….fake news. Today, though, in most disciplines, this is not the case. In technology specifically, newer is always better, older is always bad. That shiny new idea is to be revered simply because someone was able to do it, never bothering to ask whether or not it might be a good idea. Respecting the wisdom of elders here is almost impossible, because the elders are expected to abandon their experience in favor of the shiny new idea. The hive mind demands it. Old is bad. In with the new.

Which leads me to entertain the idea: what if we’ve created a world in which it’s impossible to trust in the wisdom of our elders?

What if we’ve created a world in which it’s impossible to trust in the wisdom of our elders?

What if we’ve ensured that nothing will function “the old way”, or at least not well (think of out-dated software)? What if we’ve altered the world so irrevocably that we’ve created enough black swan events that the wisdom of our elders doesn’t…even can’t…apply? Think about this dystopia for a moment. Events that can so drastically change society that there is no going back can, I would argue, invalidate certain specific wisdom by definition. Experiencing something like this once every few generations is recoverable. In my lifetime alone, though, I’ve seen so many….the invention of the Internet, the normalization of hate that followed the election of the first Black president of the U.S., the social upheaval during the Covid pandemic, artificial intelligence…each of which has shifted our culture in dramatic ways, ways from which it will not return. So many of these events in such a short period of time could cause some wisdom to just not apply any longer, and all of these events are events of our own creation.

I’m no longer young. I’ve gone through a lot of things in my life, and have things left to live through. As one gets older, though, there’s a certain comfort that experience brings. When moving to a new area, starting a new job or a new career, embarking on a new life journey, there is comfort and direction found in the ability to assume that, because certain things tend to go a certain way, those certain things are or are not good ideas in a given scenario. If we’ve managed to make our existence so unpredictable by our constant disruptions that we can longer count on this experience, then we may well have invalidated the wisdom of many who have gone before us. The hive mind wins. You will be assimilated. Resistance is futile.

That is perhaps the most dystopian future that I can imagine, one that can’t be salvaged short of Divine intervention.

Image attribution: Thomas Hawk under Creative Commons.

What To Do With Anxiety?

If I could articulate one truth about life as a follower of Christ, it’s this: we live many areas of our lives in a state of cognitive dissonance between what we know to be true, and what we experience. Our emotional response to an event is frequently incongruous with our theological understanding on the same event. In other words, we know that God will take care of us, and can look back to see how He always has, and yet we’re in this tension of “will He this time?” when confronted with an event.

There’s a lot of writing out there examining the question of whether or not anxiety is a sin. Various writers fall on both sides. Many writers who fall on the side of it being a sin, I think, are in a mindset that treats psychology and mental health as being somehow inherently invalid, that every problem is a spiritual problem. So before I go further, let’s dig into that statement for a moment. First, every problem is, in fact, a spiritual problem. We know a great deal more today about both physical and mental well-being than we did even a decade ago. Theologically, I’m a trichotomist. That is, I believe that the body, soul, and spirit are three separate and distinct aspects of humanity’s existence. Each person has each aspect. I find it obvious that each of these aspects inform each other, and impact each other. Spiritual health, mental health, and physical health inform each other. It is difficult to maintain mental health without spiritual health, or physical health without mental health, for example. Accepting that, then every problem becomes a spiritual problem, because our spiritual state impacts every problem that we confront. Human beings are amazingly complex, and we are not living in the condition in which we were designed to live.

I think you see where I’m going with this.

There’s a lot exegesis of the the Greek involved to decide whether or not you believe that anxiety is a sin…that is, if it’s wrong, and thus subject to a need for forgiveness. I am not convinced that it is, but even if you are, you’ve experienced anxiety. Given a frightening enough scenario…imagine being confronted with the potential of a catastrophic loss of income, or with a war, or an assault…the human condition is such that it will experience anxiety, especially when secondary to trauma. And while there are many definitions of trauma, perhaps, I would argue that we all experience a trauma at some point. I heard a mental health professional say once that, if trauma were effectively handled when it occurred, that the DSM would be a pamphlet. I think that speaks to how critical it is that we accept this as part of the human condition, to not avoid it, but to confront it.

I recently went through an incredibly stressful period with life events. So many of what I understood to be stable aspects of my life were suddenly thrown into question. I’ve experienced a lot of anxiety over the past few weeks, as would, I think, anyone in a similar position. Through that experience, I’ve learned many hard lessons, grown as a person and as a Believer, and found a great deal of peace.

The first step in living with the cognitive dissonance that I mentioned is to recognize that it exists, and to not deny it. The Christian faith is full of hope, but, as always, we have to approach that hope from the starting point that it is needed, which is rather difficult to do if we deny a problem to begin with. So I guess my point here is, don’t run from it. Don’t theologize yourself into thinking that you shouldn’t be experiencing anxiety about a situation, that it should somehow make you question your faith. That way leads to legalism, and, if anxiety is what you’re experiencing, then it is freedom that you need.

And I pray that you find it.

Image attribution: Kevin Dooley under Creative Commons.

Second Nature: A Theological Idea

Something has happened to me that I never anticipated. Words that I never imagined saying escaped my lips this week.

I’ve become a morning person.

I have no idea how this happened (a friend’s response was words to the effect of “welcome to being old”), but it has. I’m routinely up 30 minutes before my alarm, often with two hours of quiet before anyone else in the house is awake. I eventually stopped fighting it, and accepted that I now have this wonderfully quiet time in which to pray, journal, and be productive. So, fresh cup of coffee in hand, I start with trying to just focus on God each morning.

Which is difficult. Oh, so difficult.

Almost immediately as my brain begins to wake up (see the previous reference to coffee), the concerns of the day begin to crowd in. All of the things that I haven’t written down are spinning in my head. All of the day-to-day things that need to be done are pressing in, even before I’ve consulted my to-do list. Because we live in a material space, it’s really difficult to be aware of anything beyond that. And, almost all of the things crowding into my head at this point are material, at least in the sense that they involve physical things (“wow, the kids didn’t pick up their toys again in this room”) or the practical (“I need to schedule the maintenance appointment for the car”). These are things that I can observe, things that have a concrete outcome, things that just need to be done.

Since my Easter reflections, though, I can’t get rid of this awareness (when I can quiet myself enough) that, beyond the white-noise of our lives, there is this extended reality that, while not immediately observable, is more real than the concrete. The realm of the spiritual. The part of our existence from which we become increasingly isolated because of our excessive focus on empirical data.

Now, as certain readers of this begin to rage that I’m anti-science or some such, I’m not. Empiricism has its place. I’m just asserting that that place is not to be worshipped or deified, which currently seems to be the religion of the day. I’m cautioning against scientific reductionism…the audacity to assume that because we know everything about a thing, that we know the thing.

The reason that I bring this up here is not to re-state my previous post, but rather to expand with this idea that I can’t let go of: that the salvific process of choosing to follow Christ fundamentally alters what we think of as the human condition. We are very different once that happens. Human, but in a way alien as well, in the sense that our humanity is somehow changed.

Hear me out before thinking that my sanity has finally escaped my grasp. After Pentecost, it was established that Christ-followers receive the Holy Spirit, the third Person of the Trinity, as part of the justification event. I was raised in an atmosphere in which the work of the Holy Spirit was somewhat minimized to “conviction” or to some form of inspiration. What I think I’m beginning to see is that, as the Holy Spirit somehow joins with a person who is otherwise in a fallen condition, a regenerative event takes place that makes us, though still human, somehow very different. I think that this difference is somehow instinctively detectable by those who have not had the experience, and thus they become uncomfortable. I also think that the experience is frequently barely registered by those who have it, because of the crowded landscape of observable data that I mentioned above.

I’m getting this hypothesis from a few references: Romans 8:9 and 8:16, I Corinthians 3.16, Ephesians 2:6, Colossians 3:4, I John 3:1-10.

I’m also not in anyway suggesting that this result in a mindset of “the other,” in which Christ-followers view those who do not follow Christ as somehow less or deserving of disdain. In fact, the event that I’m discussing should have quite the opposite effect when realized.

To summarize, I wonder if, at the moment of decision to follow Christ, our humanity is somehow and suddenly different because of the Holy Spirit’s “moving in?” I’m holding onto this lightly because someone (including you, dear reader) could present a persuasive argument to the contrary. If I’m right, though, it changes so much of how we see our day-to-day, forcing a re-prioritization of our concerns.

Seeing the Unseen – Easter Reflections

At the beginning of the year, I decided that I would follow the liturgical calendar for my morning readings. I am not at all a liturgical sort of person, but I feel like there’s a beauty in it that I generally miss, so I felt like it would be a good spiritual exercise. I’ve had so many themes going through my head between various readings and services over the weekend, but what liturgical reflections are really good for are reminding us of the simple reality of what we’re observing. Not focusing on the theology of it necessarily, but just reminding ourselves that He is risen.

Reading about Jesus’ appearances to the Twelve after His resurrection is like reading a science-fiction novel. He still had His physical body, as Thomas could tell you, but He also functioned outside of the limitations of a physical body…appearing in locked rooms without using doors, for example. We can infer from this that, after we are raised, we will be the same.

Lewis famously talked about how the world that we can’t see…the spiritual realm…is so much more real than the realm that we can. Earlier this week, there was a significant wind storm where we live. The wind was invisible, but the effects of it (including my trash can being tipped over at the curb) were very real and observable. So it is with the spiritual…while we can’t see it, we can see its effects all around us, even if we do try to explain them away.

Reading about someone rising from the dead smacks of nonsense to us because of our cultural tendency toward empiricism. There is no room for the mystical in our minds…only what we can observe and quantify. Yet, reading about the Resurrection leads us into a very real spiritual plane which exists alongside the physical world that we can sense, a reality at least just as real as our physical existence. That’s the reality that I want to focus on moving forward from Easter, the very real experience of a Savior whose body was never found.

He is risen indeed.

Happy Easter.

Image attribution: Shiva Shenoy under Creative Commons.

A Review of “Ant-Man and the Wasp: Quantumania”

Let me say in advance: I enjoyed this film. This first installment in Phase 5 is a very solid movie.

I used to know the dates of Marvel’s film releases months in advance, have blocked off opening night on my calendar, arranged child care. These were events. A lot of things have changed since then. My wife just isn’t as interested in Marvel (Civil War was a very negative experience for her), so I frequently am seeing these films with a friend or, in the case of this one, solo. The black swan event that was the two-year pandemic also de-prioritized these sorts of events for me, given that I was waiting until the last possible moment to see movies in as sparsely-attended an auditorium as possible.

In any case, Ant-Man and the Wasp: Quantumania sort of crept up and caught me unawares. I didn’t write about much of Phase 4 of the MCU here, because almost half of it was such a massive disappointment. The series began strong and then fizzled, and had it not been for Spider-Man and Dr. Strange, I think I may have stopped going to see the films entirely. Black Panther was technically Phase 4 also, but it and Dr. Strange felt like a turning point to higher quality offerings again. So, on a snowy New England evening, I made time to get to a theatre (still more than a week after it opened) to see this quantum adventure.

I think that Ant-Man is an interesting character, both conceptually, and in his backstory. Scott Lang is very much an everyman, turning away from a life of crime and only falling back into it in order to have contact with his daughter, lost in a divorce. Conceptually, his ability to control ants very much sets him apart from his DC counterpart, the Atom, and makes the character unusual. His journey from everyman to reluctant hero makes Ant-Man more relatable to the audience than many other super-hero characters, and I really like that he was so instrumental in defeating Thanos at the conclusion of the Infinity War saga. Still, I initially thought that this movie was a curious choice to begin Phase 5.

What worked well in that respect is that this movie is a great bridge. No new characters are really introduced here, with the exception of the new identities of characters we’ve seen before in MODOK and Stature. The world-building of the Quantum Realm is exceptional. What we thought was a dangerous, lonely, sub-atomic plane we discover to be a populated universe, a realm outside of time and space, which is why Kang has been exiled there. Building out this place and filling in the events in the original Wasp’s life over her 30 years lost in the Quantum Realm make it a solid film from a storytelling perspective. Not the most amazing we’ve seen from Marvel, but a very enjoyable, well-written adventure.

What is particularly well-done in this movie is the development of the relationship between Scott and Cassie as they make up for the lost years of the Blip. Janet trying to recover a lost childhood with her mother runs as a parallel story arc, the through-line being something that the audience can’t help but relate to: Failures in a parent-child relationship and attempts to repair them. That is ultimately what drives this film.

The purpose of Quantumania, though, is developing our villain. While Kang was introduced in Loki season 1, and while we will see many variants of him moving forward, this film was really two hours to develop him as a character and establish his backstory. This is really critical. A hero story or story arc (think Phases 5 and 6) cannot succeed without a compelling villain. Impotent villains, or stereotyped villains, make the heroes opposite them feel 1-dimensional, the conflict predictable. Kang is a very different villain than was Thanos, and we now have a solid foundation for him moving forward. My only complaint is that, after building him up as such a dangerous character, it almost feels strange that Ant-Man and the Wasp manage to defeat him in the end. This is slightly more workable than the all-too-easy defeat of Ultron years ago, because we know that we will encounter more dangerous variants of Kang moving forward. Still, it was a moment of incongruity.

This is a really good movie, with great world-building and solid character development. In case you were skeptical of the MCU after a mostly lackluster Phase 4, this movie isn’t going to astound you, but it’s worth seeing as a good foundation for what’s to come.

Here’s to Phase 5.