Schismatic Cognition

Do you know what you think, or do you think what you know?

Descartes' famous statement: "Cogito ergo sum" (I think, therefore I am) is considered to be a foundational element of Western philosophy. The idea is that the exercise of thought proves one's existence. OK, cognitive actively tells me I'm alive. But how are my thoughts related to the quality of my life?

Another famous thinker wrote: "As he [a man] thinks within himself, so he is." King Solomon's statement in Proverbs 23 refers to the connection between thought, or belief, and behavior.

A variation of my original question is, "Do you really believe what you know?" For example, if you have any church background at all you know that Jesus loves you. But in your heart of hearts do you truly believe it?

To summarize Merriam-Webster, a belief is "conviction of the truth of a statement, being, or phenomenon . . . based upon evidence." It seems feasible to give cognitive assent to an idea or concept without experiencing the evidence needed for it become a conviction.

Simply put, we act on what we believe.

Christians have many "knowings" that we don't necessarily accept as being true for ourselves (or for each other). Jesus said we would know the truth, and that the truth would set us free. But many of us don't live freely because we won't accept the truth.

"Jesus loves me this I know", but we still perform for him in hopes that he'll somehow allow us to sneak through the Pearly Gates.

New Testament writers define us as righteous, holy, accepted, and blameless, but we insist that we are still "sinners saved by grace" who practice and promote one of Churchianity's favorite mantras: "What a worm am I!"

We recite Christ's words about the birds of the air and the lilies of the field, yet we worry to the point of developing a wide array of stress-related illnesses.

Easter Sunday finds us celebrating the once-for-all forgiveness and removal of our sins, still we maintain a death-grip on the chains that bind our own personal Sin Meter to our weary backs.

No, many of us flatly do not believe much of what we know. There is a great schism between our Christian thoughts and our actions. So even though we are free indeed, our words and actions are marked by the bondage of faulty beliefs. Because we believe love is won through measurable behavior, we are unable to love without condition. Because we struggle to receive Christ's forgiveness for our own sins, we find it difficult to forgive others (and ourselves). Etc., etc., etc.

To be continued.

The Path of Life

This morning's devotion was taken from Psalm 16:11, but it was the first phrase of the verse that caught my attention: "You reveal the path of life to me . . ." Most of us probably envision a path as being obvious, even if it's a narrow one.

But what about a path that is indistinct? It is unsettling, to say the least, when I'm not sure that my present path is God's path of life for me. Even worse is the absence of an obvious path.

Jean-Pierre de Caussade, an 18th-Century priest, wrote:

"There is no more safe and sure way that the unlit path of faith . . . you cannot lose the way where there is no path. Every way looks the same in the dark . . ."

The God of light sometimes leads us through dark places. We can't see the ground, much less a path that winds out in front of us. At times we're not sure we can even hear his voice. All we may have is a quiet sense of his presence.

This is where our faith is tested and refined. In the dark, pathless places of life . . .

The simplistic open-door/closed-door method of knowing God's will is moot. The handy formulas and pithy one-liners of cultural religiosity fall short. And total, moment-by-moment dependency upon God becomes our lifestyle.

Caussade refers to this place as safe and sure. Not all the places through which our Father leads us are bright and cheerful. Some are dark and filled with uncertainty. But even when we cannot see it, the path we walk leads to Life.

How Do You FEEL?

Is God emotional?

While pondering my concept of God last week that question came to mind. Emotions are no small part of our human makeup, so it makes sense that they help shape the backdrop of our God-picture.

Some folks view God through the grid of their own highly tuned emotions. Compassion is his dominant attribute, and the term "broken-hearted" is sometimes used to describe his emotional condition. When he is anthropomorphized too much in this regard God becomes the touchy-feely over-protector of his fragile offspring.

Others perceive God as a cognitive being who wastes no time on petty emotions. Logic and common sense are paramount here. But carried to the extreme, this idea renders our Creator as a cold, stern, unfeeling and relationally distant Force. For this God, principles of duty, obedience, responsibility, and maturity lead the way.

Somewhere between these two general streams we find Jesus.

As The God-Man on earth he experienced the full range of human emotion. He grieved over the death of a friend, laughed with children, wept over Jerusalem, angrily whipped the moneychangers, dreaded the cross, was critical of the Pharisees, loved his mother, and enjoyed his friends.

The agent of our creation had very real feelings - the same ones we experience every day.The difference is that Christ's emotions never controlled him. Neither did he wield them as coping mechanisms.

What about now, though? He no longer walks the earth as a man, but is seated at the pinnacle of universal authority - at the right hand of God. Does he still experience emotions?

I think so.

Scripture seems to identify what might be the Jesus' overriding emotion. In John 15:11 & 17:13, he talks about his joy being complete in his followers.

Interesting notion: A perfect emotive characteristic of God's Son, fulfilled in little old you and me. Wow!

Joy is not only a powerful emotion, it is also a frame of mind. Much more than "happiness", which is only a response to our positive "haps", or circumstances, joy flows from the very center of who we are in Christ (and who he is in us).

It lifts our spirits even in the midst of the most brutal moments of pain and loss.

It settles our wildly fearful thoughts, refocusing our minds on the calming awareness of his ever-present presence.

And because it originates in Jesus, it is complete.

Ezra and Nehemiah proclaimed that the "joy of the Lord" is our strength (Neh 8:10). I used to think that this referred to our joy IN the Lord. But in light of Christ's statements in the Gospels, I wonder if it refers to God's joy in and over us.

Plus, it was for the "joy set before him" than Jesus "endured the cross" (Heb 12:2). What was the joy set before Christ? Could it have been us?

Absolutely!

Sure, Jesus' obedient submission to the cross restored him to his throne of authority in heaven, but that wasn't the primary purpose of the cross.

Christ's finished work on the cross was the cosmic demolition derby. And he won!

The power of sin was crushed.
Satan's grip was mangled.
Death was bulldozed.
Shame and guilt were devastated.
The grave's victory was pulverized.
And . . . you and I were invited to eternity's quintessential family reunion!

THAT was the joy set before Jesus! If it doesn't release a cacophonous jamboree of JOY-filled celebration in and from our hearts . . . then we are little more than sandbags with arms.

God does much more than feel our emotions. He gives us his!

So enJOY Jesus, because he certainly enjoys you.