It’s been a long time since my last blog post! No real
excuse, but I've been fairly occupied by a Postmodern Philosophy and Religion
discussion group that has been going on through November. It’s been an exciting
and interesting set of conversations; a mix of students with different backgrounds
and different assumptions. It’s been particularly interesting dialoguing with
students who are rigorous atheists. Our dialogue has been respectful but not
lacking in passion or debate, which makes for a really lively and (I think)
fruitful discussion. The topics are wide-ranging: the existence and reality of
God, politics, ethics, knowledge, personal development, and others. As I've
learned from the Christian Reformed tradition, there isn't one sphere of life
untouched by God, and so that means no sphere of life is off limits when
discussing philosophy and religion.
It’s really helpful to rub shoulders in this way, with people
who hold entirely different assumptions about the world. In these discussions I
have tried to enter in with a willingness to be changed by the encounter. This
doesn't mean I hold my beliefs lightly, ready to toss them out with a moments
notice. Rather, it means that my beliefs are (hopefully) brought into a
non-defensive dialogue with very different positions.
What I've been struck by as I've enjoyed these conversations
is how compelled I am by the Christian vision of the world and the gospel. As I
stumble over words trying to articulate the mystery of God I feel myself being
drawn into that mystery. The materialist or atheist disagreements have done
very little to shake that experience. I don’t feel as though I'm being
defensive with the Christian faith. Even, and perhaps especially, when that faith is exposed to rigorous critique I have a deep experience of it being beautiful, somewhat terrifying, and utterly true (in a way that far exceeds mere
propositional truth).
Whether or not it becomes so attractive to others is the
work of the Holy Spirit. For myself, while I claim a certain limited competence in
articulating the Christian faith I strive to allow my voice to be silenced in
two ways: by others who want to express a deeply different opinion but also by the experience of the gospel
itself, which challenges me more than any atheist position ever has. Rowan
Williams has said it elegantly:
“The greatness of the great Christian saints lies in their
readiness to be questioned, judged, stripped naked and left speechless by that
which lies at the centre of their faith” (The
Wound of Knowledge).
It is this sort of submission to the cross of Christ that I
am attempting to live out on the Kwantlen campus, whether in a conversation
with an atheist or a deeply committed Christian. Everything, even our own articulation of the Christian faith, is
subject to the beauty of Christ. And Christian faith does not so much give us
perfect knowledge of God as put us on our knees in awe, terror, worship, and love.
