An actual argument

So now we get to the point where I actually try to craft an argument for faith. I think it's an important exercise; not because I assume anyone is ever truly convinced by arguments. But I do think a good, solid argument for something can sometimes at least plant the seed of doubt in even one who is thoroughly convinced that God does not exist. I certainly am not going to go over the whole plethora of argument in regards to faith, merely a few that have stuck out in my mind. Nothing I say here will be original, of course, but really, in this day and age, what is? With an easy access to information, can any of us really craft a unique argument that has never been before put into writing? I imagine a small number of us will, probably entirely by accident, but I also imagine this will be an extremely rare occurrence.

First I'd like to start with the idea of the supernatural. Now, in C. S. Lewis' book "Miracles", he in fact starts his argument for the supernatural with the existence of peoples' ability to reason, without which one cannot even know of science, much less of the supernatural, but here I am writing a simple blog post and not a 200 page book, so I'm going to get straight to the point. Because frankly, without the supernatural, Christianity cannot possibly exist, since it is entirely premised upon a supernatural act, that being the resurrection of Jesus. I would call this act supernatural because it clearly falls outside of any reasonably accepted view of nature: that death is permanent. And so for Christianity to be valid, the supernatural must indeed be possible, in fact inevitable.

And here of course is perhaps the biggest stumbling block for any nonbeliever: the fact that, in this day and age, at least among "well-educated" people, it is pretty much taboo to admit to the existence of the supernatural. Everything has a "logical", or "rational" explanation. And yet this "logic" and "rationality" seems to me now to be downright irrational. What if the most rational explanation for something is in fact the supernatural? And yet since we discount it out of hand, it is immediately removed from the list of even possibility, let alone rationality. It seems odd that we can so cavalierly remove from our sphere of understanding something that thousands of years of human civilizations have taken for granted. Are we so arrogant in this day and age that we think all who lived in those eras were fools? To paraphrase Lewis, they may not have known about the workings of storms, and sickness, and all of those things that modern science knows of, but they certainly understood death. They certainly also understood logic and reasoning.

Now, I'm not going to here put up the bible as "truth" although I certainly in many respects believe it to be so. But putting aside that issue for the moment, something that has struck me in my exploration of it, particularly in the letters of Paul, is its reliance on logic. Paul was certainly a man who existed, of that there seems little doubt. What also seems mostly uncontested is that he was one day a man notorious in his persecution of Christians, and the next possibly their greatest teacher to come after Jesus. What happened in between is up to the reader, although Paul himself claimed he was visited by Jesus. The point, however, is that even though Paul believed the truth of Jesus' teachings to be self-evident (at least as expressed in Romans), he realized that he would have to make lucid, logical arguments for them. In reading a letter like Romans, one can see clearly crafted logical ideas that build on one another into an overall thesis. I think it's sometimes tempting to view Christianity as the work of superstitious men pining for salvation, for life after death. And yet in Paul one finds just the opposite: a clearly rational, brilliant writer who believes that he has been called by God to convince people of the truth of Jesus.

And here I also hold myself up as an example. I am not a superstitious man. Even now I find myself deeply skeptical (although certainly less so now than I was) whenever I hear talk of supernatural occurrences. But then again, it depends on who is doing the recounting. If I know the person, know their character, know how they think, if it's a person whose intelligence and judgment I trust, then which is more likely: that the supposed "supernatural" experience that they are recounting never actually happened? Or that they are telling the truth? Now of course psychology tells us that if an event happens and six people witness it, we will get six different stories. And yet an event did happen, outside of their perceptions of it, and it is likely that some are closer to the truth than others. That's why the source of the story is so important.

And so if you view me as a rational, intelligent person, how then does one explain my conversion? Well, there are any number of ways one could explain it away. Maybe I'm not as rational as I'd like to think. Maybe deep down I have yearned for religion all of my life, and was then slowly swayed by a church until my mind concocted the whole experience. And yet anyone who knows me knows that I have at times in my life been overtly hostile to religion, at other times ambivalent, but never accepting. The point is that for me, it took experiencing something outside of my awareness, outside of my story, outside of anything I had ever even conceived of, to find God. I couldn't have made up my conversion even if I wanted to which, in my mind, lends it a great deal of credibility; not, mind you, to others, who of course weren't in my head this whole time; but to myself, as even now I am tempted at times to doubt my own experience.

I would also hold up as example any one of the plethora of rational men of faith, whose writings are scattered all over the history of philosophy and literature, or who can be seen teaching today at various churches. To doubt the core rationality of so many brilliant scholars and thinkers is to my mind just a little bit weird. I am not saying that Paul, myself (I of course here am not attempting to truly compare myself, or my experience, with Paul. However, there are a few similarities, namely a divinely inspired absolute shift in beliefs, and a need to see Christianity logically and rationally explained), and all of these thinkers are speaking truth (although of course I believe so), as, well, there must always be room for doubt and skepticism. What I am saying is that the only reason I was able to dismiss even the possibility of the supernatural for my entire life was that I never even asked myself the logical questions that this conclusion must ask, namely, are all these people insane, or stupid?

So for anyone who may be reading this who thinks religion to be mere superstition, or for the religious who discount any occurrence that seems to carry a whiff of the supernatural, I would say, just examine these questions. Read some letters of Paul, or some works by Lewis or Chesterton (to name my personal favorites). I'm not saying you will agree with them, I still find plenty to question in all of them (yes, even Paul - which is good. The bible should be grappled with, not just blindly accepted), but it will be harder (I hope) just to discount them as random whackos.

And if they were not crazy, then what was it that they experienced? If we are merely victims of constant stimuli out of our control, can we really know anything? Can we state anything at all as fact? Can we trust our own ability to reason? Why is it that we trust our abilities to discover the universe and the science that explains it, but not our abilities to discern when things happen outside of that understanding?

The Problem of Conversion

So I've been a Christian for three days now. That gives me a lot of credibility on matters of faith, yes of this I am aware, but all snark aside - I think it's important to catalog this experience so that my future self can look back on it and remember where I came from.

The biggest question, of course, is the big "what now?" And the joyful answer is, "I have no clue." I say joyful because life suddenly seems like a grand adventure, in some respects, as if the cloud over my eyes has been removed and now I see things clearly. Now, this is in many ways an exaggeration, in the sense that I now see things so clearly that I realize that I know far, far less about the world than I thought I did (although certainly more than I did last Friday), and yet still retain all of my old knee-jerk reactions as if I do. But I suppose it's a step in the right direction.

The other answer to the "what now?" can, I believe, be found in scripture. For instance, in realizing how little I know about the world, I am beginning to realize that all of my ideas about money, sex, discipline, morality, all of them need to be re-prioritized. I don't mean this in some legalistic, "if I don't do this I won't get into heaven" sense. That would be silly. But, having come to the belief that Jesus Christ died for our sins and calls upon us to follow Him, I believe that it would be foolish for me not to examine, and examine seriously, that implications of that.

On issues of money: does God REALLY care if I buy the latest computer game instead of using that money instead to feed a starving family? Well, I would guess the answer is that it does indeed matter. I'm not saying that the implications of this say much about the state of one's soul, but I think that these are issues that I should consider. I guess the crux of the matter is that now I feel it is important to examine why I am buying various things. I'm not suggesting I'm considering divesting myself of all worldly possessions and living like an ascetic. Merely that now it has become something to at least think about.

On sex: well, let's face it, without God, it's really hard to find too many strictly human moral arguments against sex before marriage, divorce, and pornography. And yet God clearly cares about these issues, as they are mentioned regularly in the bible (well, pornography is merely implied, but the implication is not exactly subtle). Thus I find I must do pretty much a full reversal on the issues: not as to how I judge those who engage in them, but how I treat them in my own life. I don't feel guilty for how I dealt with these things in the past: I wasn't a believer then, and had no reason to behave any differently. Unlike actions such as murder or theft, these are sins that aren't exactly readily apparent to the nonbeliever, and thus it was what it was. That said, I no longer have any excuse.

On discipline: I find myself in a very much undisciplined state of late. I have far too much free time on my hands, and I don't often use it so well. However, with the accepting of God into my life, I now must acknowledge that the gifts I have been given are tools which He means for me to use for the furtherance of His kingdom. Now I must practice more not merely to better myself on my instrument, but because it is a gift from God. Discipline also implies the ability to maintain faithfulness even when God's presence is not readily apparent. Four days ago I had what I would call a revelation of the divine. But things will not always be so (I am assuming). I will likely go through long stretches of time without being given such concrete indicators of His presence, and thus must learn faithfulness as an end unto itself.

On morality: for most of my life, "situational ethics" and "relativism" were pretty much the status quo. But the reality is that there is an ultimate moral standard. I must allow this standard to challenge my own concepts of morality, even when they are at odds with what I am used to. Not an easy thing for me, given that I'm fond of following my own judgment. I'm not saying that reason must be removed from the picture, far from it. Without reason we can hardly hope to interpret scripture adequately. But also, without humility, it is just as impossible.

All of these are merely first impressions on some basic issues. Of course at first blush, it seems mostly "negative": I need to change such and such, this or that is wrong, and so forth. And yet in many ways it is quite liberating. The reality was that the way I was living wasn't working, wasn't bringing me happiness, or even basic contentment. Now I feel that even in times of trouble, I will have hope for the future, and the realization that when I fall, God will always be there to catch me. It's a start, anyways.

If you had asked me yesterday morning if I considered myself a Christian, I would have said no. Today, that has changed. Some in my church have said that they see their lives in two parts: the part before accepting Jesus, and the part after. I can understand that.

The most amazing thing about this whole event is that God is so much bigger than I ever would have thought. Obviously, to ascribe limits to a being of infinite power would be silly, and yet I'm guessing that I'm not the only one to do so. Or perhaps "limits" is the wrong word, more like "expectations". I expected God to conform to my preconceived notions of Him. And yet in the end, of course, He showed Himself to me in a far different manner than I ever would have thought of.

Of course, I assumed some sort of conversion was coming. Having opened myself up to the rationality of God's existence, I thought it wouldn't make any sense for Him to drag me this far, and not take me that last step of the way. But then I began to think that the final step was up to me, that if I simply said "I am a Christian" it would be true. And yet something in me balked at that, so I avoided that course. And it was correct. The bible states that one must believe with the heart and confess with the mouth that Jesus is lord, but my heart simply was not in the right place.

At any rate, here's basically how it happened, although I'm still going through all of the implications. I was heading to NYU for a rehearsal when, leaving the subway, I came across a common sight (at least here in NYC): a beggar woman, hunkered down at the entrance to the subway station, with a sign asking for change. Now, I see people in this situation quite literally every day (unless I don't leave my apartment). I didn't even bother to read her sign, or acknowledge her presence. And yet her desperate expression lingered in my mind; as I was walking away, I sent back the honest, and earnest prayer "May God find you in better circumstances before long."

I couldn't get her face out of my head. She broke my heart.

Of course I had to thrust the whole thing to the back of my mind soon enough, needing to rehearse, professional obligations being what they are. And yet something lingered. And yesterday during both sermons, it came back with a vengeance. The first was a sermon on prayer, the second on suffering. And during both I couldn't get this woman out of my head, and my heart broke for her all over again.

I realize that this is probably the first truly unselfish desire I've ever had: to sincerely desire something specific for someone who has NOTHING to do with my story. I'm not saying that it's selfish to want things for friends and family, or for acquaintances and colleagues. And yet, those people are still part of our own personal narratives. To see a suffering person in the world and feel a deep sadness for him or her, that is what God's love is. And to feel it for myself, well, that was it. Game over.

So why this specific woman? I walked back to the same subway station after the rehearsal, and where she had been before, another person was now, again with a sign asking for change, and passing him, this time I felt nothing, as usual. And yet this all misses the point. One cannot really feel for a "problem" or a "situation" or even have real, deep love for a "group". And yet to love a complete stranger for the simple fact that they are human, well, I think that's the secret to God's eternal love. And I have a long way to go, in that regard. I encountered a moment of it, and that moment has changed my life, but what did I actually "do"? Well, I sent a prayer her way, but that was all. The rest, if I am steadfast, will come in time.

So what now? I have no idea. And that's a beautiful thing. In this journey God has never failed to surprise. As one friend said: "You're in for a wild ride."

A story that needs telling.

So I am somewhat hesitant to write the following post, but I think it may be good to help me clarify a few things that have been rolling around in my head constantly over the course of the past month; also, to fulfill the multiple requests I received tonight to write it down. So here it is.

Also be forewarned: it's really quite long.

It has become clear to me that God exists. That is, the Christian God, of the bible. That said, I wish to preface my account below with a few clarifications. For starters, I don't mean for this to convince anyone of any faith or non-faith. This is not meant to be an argument. It is an account of what I have experienced over the last 7 years of my life, of the slowly growing realization that something incredible was happening, and my current acceptance of the fact of God's existence. Nothing more. I have been an atheist long enough to know that even logical arguments are largely futile to convince anyone of any fact about reality, given that there are just as many arguments for plenty of other ideas about existence. I've been in enough arguments and discussions with rational, thinking Christians (and plenty of irrational ones as well) over the years to know that much.

I also cannot yet claim to be a follower of Jesus. Simply acknowledging the truth of the matter has not yet given me the framework by which to make that leap, at least emotionally speaking. One person tonight said it thus: "You built your tower on one piece of ground, and now have to move it elsewhere. Not an easy thing." Poetic, and altogether accurate. I feel I am currently in the process of moving that tower, brick by brick, but that making the huge leap of dedicating my life to the service of Christ is something that, at this exact moment in time, I'm simply not ready for.

Lastly, what I will write about is only half of the story. The other half has been finding a church with incredibly lucid pastors interested in making logical, rational arguments, not just for belief, but how one can use that belief to free oneself from the tyranny of everyday concerns, and the tyranny of selfishness. A church full of people doing the best they can to live their lives in New York City, while at the same time trying to figure out how to do that while living the message of the Gospels. A church of people who, though I didn't share their faith and was at times even antagonistic towards it, accepted me into their community and treated me as one of them. But that's a post for another time.

What follows is merely an account of what I see as my encounters with the divine, and what actions they precipitated, and my message to anyone who may read it is this: you may not agree that what I have to say has any merit. You may think I'm crazy, or merely searching for an easy fix to get through the hardships of living as a freelance musician in NYC. I don't believe that I'm that easily swayed, and I think those who know me would agree. It is merely an attempt to as honestly as I can chronicle these experiences; by now you all know the conclusion.

So here is my story.

I was 20 years old, attending the Eastman School of Music. I was firmly an atheist (although I called myself an agnostic, I now believe that I was incorrect; after all, if you admit to the possibility of the existence of something, and yet not to the possibility of proving it, what really is the difference?), and would even occasionally debate the subject with some of the more vocal believers whom I counted among my friends. Now, the exact date of this event, and most of the others in what follows, eludes me. It was either in the Fall or Spring of my Sophomore year, when I had an incredibly vivid dream. A dream so vivid that I can recall the details, even seven years after the fact, not because it recurred, but because it was so crystal clear.

A meteor had just struck the Earth, at the center of the U.S., and my girlfriend at that time and I were driving around in a truck, in the middle of the desert. The last thing I saw was a huge boulder crashing through the windshield. I then awoke in the middle of a grassy field. There was a diner nearby, and in the distance a large black tower loomed menacingly. I realized that I had died and that this was the afterlife.

Not knowing what else to do, I started walking toward the tower (at times my girlfriend was with me, at times not; not an important detail, i think). At the base of the tower was a large parking garage (yeah, dream logic). After walking through the garage I reached a doorway, which opened up onto a stairway. On these stairs was a seemingly endless crowd of people, all walking downwards, in single file (the stairway was wide enough to at most accommodate two at a time). Not knowing what else to do, I joined them.

After descending several floors, I followed the line of people through another doorway and found myself staring at a seemingly endless cityscape. Huge modern skyscrapers rose up in every direction, and there were throngs of people, some driving around, others running, some flying (without mechanical aid. It was the afterlife, after all). The sky was gray and looked somewhat polluted, and no one seemed happy. Everyone had an expression of "must get on about my business" on their faces, and a general feeling of tension and unease was palpable. Realizing that I didn't really like this place, I went back into the stairwell.

Fortunately, as the people were all in single file, I was able to climb upwards. After quite a few floors, the throngs of people began to thin (although all were still choosing to descend), until at last I was alone. I finally reached a final doorway, and went through it. On the other side was a cluttered, cozy library, full of bookshelves and furniture with worn red cushions, and everywhere stacks of books. Overhead was a somewhat tarnished brass chandelier that lit the room in a very inviting way. I felt entirely at peace there, even moreso when I was greeted warmly by the room's only denizen, a somewhat plump elderly woman. She informed me that this was indeed hell, but that there was a way to get to heaven. I must spend time contemplating God, and come to the realization and heartfelt belief that I am one of God's creations, thus deserving of divine love. I must then use that realization to see all of humanity in the same light, that all are created by God in His image. Then I would be able to ascend to heaven. She said that it would take some time, but that if I really thought and prayed on it long enough, I would find my way.

I awoke with a more profound feeling of peace than I have ever experienced, before or since. I then recounted this dream to a friend of mine, who pointed out that this story is very, very similar to the one found in C. S. Lewis's "The Great Divorce", which he promptly loaned to me. This was my first encounter with God, and while at the time I merely passed it off as a "cool dream", I now can say confidently that it was the first time my heart was opened to the possibility of God's love. Before, most of the concepts of God I encountered I had found distasteful, in fact downright immoral. Both "The Great Divorce" and the dream showed me a vision of God that was both loving and logical.

Fast forward six years. Through some coincidence I had found employment at two churches, both of which presided over by pastors who speak clearly and rationally, using words and ideas that I can understand. I find it amazing that of all the churches I could have landed at, the ones I did showed me exactly the side of Christianity that I needed to see to give it any credibility. I had recently (and somewhat mockingly) said to God, "Ok, if you exist, show me, in a way that I can understand. If you don't, it's not my fault if I am damned, and you are not the loving God you pretend to be". Well, that prayer was answered, in spades.

My second (direct) encounter with the divine was, I believe, last July or August. It had been a difficult summer. It was too hot to play in the park, and I was barely able to make the rent. I was so sick of having my life so utterly dominated by the need for basic survival, and frustrated that I couldn't get beyond it (this still plagues me, for the record, but I feel things look a lot better now than they did then). To assuage the anxiety I drank heavily on a Saturday night, a foolish thing to do since, well, buying alcohol does nothing to ameliorate financial issues, and also I had to be up at 6:30 the following morning to make the trek to the Upper West Side, where I had been playing a church service for several months (this church is part of Trinity Grace Church, of which the Brooklyn church is also a part. I began playing for Brooklyn in September of 2009, and Upper West in May of 2010).

At any rate, I came into this service feeling both somewhat physically ill and emotionally wrecked. I went through rehearsal feeling pretty much numb. And then a strange thing happened. The service started, and I felt this bursting in my chest, this longing for something I couldn't characterize. I believe C. S. Lewis called it "Joy", although at the time it felt a lot more like pain. I hid it well though, as I always do, despite being on the verge of tears the entire service. Right when it was over, a Hispanic woman I had never seen before (and haven't seen since) came up to me and said simply, "God told me to pray for you today, and to tell you that, whether you know it or not, you are his instrument." Fighting back the urge to break down completely, I nodded to her, and she put her hand on my shoulder, and then left. One can easily write it off as "well of course this happened, you are in church, people do things like that". And of course, at the time I did so. But looking back, the timing was simply too perfect, her words too much exactly what I needed to hear. If such things happened more often I might today give it less credence, but the uniqueness of this event, over effectively two and a third years worth of services (18 months at one church, 10 at the other), makes it seem worthy of mention, and again I felt the hand of God. And again I ignored it.

Soon after this, I was again in some emotional distress. I was feeling empty and lonely; the reality is that I simply didn't have any friends I felt I could count on for emotional support, and it was beginning to wear on me. So I was thinking that maybe it would be time to join a "life group." This bears some explanation.

I joined Trinity Grace Church in Brooklyn for its very first service, hired to play in the worship band. I thought it would just be a one-off gig, for only the first service, but then I was asked to stay on permanently, and, as regular gigs are very rare, and the other musicians were quite good, I of course agreed. Now, from the get-go, the church was promoting these small groups called life groups, people generally from a certain neighborhood who would meet at a chosen person's house once a week, to share a meal, talk about their lives, read scripture, pray, that sort of thing. This seemed appealing to me, at least as a way to make some friends. But the idea of prayer and scripture reading turned me off, as I was not in the least bit religious, and just didn't want to be bothered with all of that rubbish.

At any rate, the event I began describing above occurred about a year after joining the church, that is to say, around September of 2010. I was lonely and considering this life group idea a little bit more strongly, although with the usual inward resistance. In fact that week, the pastor was giving a sermon on why joining a life group is so important. I was standing at the back of the church between songs (there's songs, a sermon, then more songs) lost in my own thoughts, not really listening. I was thinking that to give God a logical chance, it wouldn't be fair of me to just pass Him off without getting to know his followers better. I would have to join a life group to know God. And suddenly I look up and on the screen appeared, verbatim, the words "to know God".

Again, this bears more explanation. At my church, they use two projection screens to drive home various points of the sermons, sometimes as bullet points, and this was one of them.

I must admit to being somewhat stunned by this. However, as was my wont, I brushed it off as yet another coincidence, and went back inside my own head. Again I began thinking of my absolute isolation in the world, and I thought to myself, "No one in New York really knows me. How nice it would be to be known." And again I look up at the screen, and suddenly there appeared the words "To Be Known".

At this point I came to the following conclusion: IF God exists (and I was thinking that I had gone from a definite "no" to a definite "maybe"), than he was sending me a sign. It would be illogical to ignore that sign. You can't ask God, if he exists, to show Himself to you, and then ignore it completely when he does. And so I joined a life group, where I came into contact with people of such profound faith that it was impossible not to be moved by it.

Then one night, at life group, the leader (also the pastor of the church) asked for his son to pray for the group. Everyone else closed their eyes and so didn't see what happened, but mine were open and looking at the boy. He began praying for various people in the room, "various" being the ones in front of him. But first, he said "I pray for Brian" and turned and looked me directly in the eye. He then turned back and resumed praying for those in front of him, struggling to remember their names. And I felt the hand of God once again. That night I stayed up late with the pastor and shared this story that I am now sharing with you, and the barriers began to crumble. I began to see that we are all slaves to something, be it money, power, the self, sex - whatever it is that is most important to you. And that whatever it is, it will someday let you down. I began to see that service to God is not slavery, but perhaps the only way I will ever discover who I truly am.

I have had many other smaller signs, and plenty of little nudgings from various people along the way. What you have just heard is merely the skeleton of a much larger and richer story, a story of fellowship, of people who accepted and loved me as I was, who refused to ever judge me in my unbelief, of late night conversations, which sometimes turned into passionate arguments. It is also the story of Christianity itself, the arguments against which seem more and more full of holes, but that is again a different post for a different time. I know that this is only the beginning of the journey, but it needs to be shared. Take it as you will.