luckycanuck (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
luckycanuck) wrote2009-10-17 04:44 pm
luckycanuck) wrote2009-10-17 04:44 pm
Introduction - Religion
I ran up Mt Ainslie today, and when I arrived at the top I noticed a lot more people than the handful of outdoorsy types and tourists who would normall be there on a Saturday afternoon.
There were two separate groups present. One was the Catch the Fire Ministries, whose leader claimed that last year's bushfires were God's wrath on Victoria for legalising abortion. They believed that local witches had been holding black masses at the top of the mountain, and so they turned up to "pull down the strongholds of Satan", to hold a prayer offensive (really, can't you come up with a better term??) and perform an exorcism to take a hex off of Parliament.
I work in Parliament, and whilst the IT system is sometimes a bit dodgy, I wouldn't go so far as to attribute my computer freezing up to some kind of satanic curse. I certainly don't feel moved to loudly sing repetitive hymns and speak in tongues and generally make a spectacle of myself. I also don't believe that God is waiting to smack us around with tsunamis or bushfires or earthquakes for stepping out of line.
And yet, I do believe in God. I was raised in a religious household, and at my core I remain religious. Until a year and a half ago, I was giving serious consideration to becoming an Anglican priest. In the end I decided I wasn't suited to that particular calling. In recent months I've felt rather uninspired about my faith (at least in a public sense), but I still believe in the central tenets of Christianity as much as I ever did.
We live in a world marred by suffering. But one thing that has always stuck with me through years of theological reflection is the idea of a God who understands suffering, because God has suffered. If you believe in orthodox Christianity, this means that God has given up a place in heaven to experience the very worst of humanity. Pain, intolerance, anger, pettiness, and all the terrible things that we are subjected to (and that we subject other to for that matter) are all things that God understands intimately because Jesus allowed himself to experience them. He allowed himself to be beaten and broken, to be sent away for execution in the most painful and humiliating way possible, and in the end to experience a lonely and shameful death, letting go of all he has.
And then, having lost everything and fallen so low, he is lifted back up again. Having suffered, he transcends suffering. Having died, he transcends death itself.
I find that I feel closest to God in times of suffering and weakness. The lessons of redemption seem to cut through so much better under those circumstances. When I've been stripped of all the fronts I put up to defend myself, I am powerfully aware of God's presence. When I'm stuck in the darkness, the light seems to find me.
So that's a snapshot of what I believe.
But my faith is an intensely personal thing. It's not something I feel comfortable shouting from the rooftops (or in this case, mountaintops).
Which brings me back to Mt Ainslie. The other group at the top of the hill was the Australian Sex Party. It wasn't an accident that they were at the same place at the same time. While the fundamentalists were singing about the blood of Jesus, the sex people countered with "It's Raining Men." While the fundamentalists spoke in tongues, some of the sex party onlookers shouted that God didn't exist, that "you're all a bunch of dickheads" and other heckles of varying quality. Nobody from either side was convinced or converted, and the whole spectacle was a bit unedifying.
The sex party people did have a BBQ on, and they gave me a sausage. (Literally, not in a euphemistic way thank you very much!)
TW: Triceps and Shoulders - 150 Skull Crushers, 100 Shoulder Presses, 50 Clean and Press, 50 Dips, and the the run upp and down Mt Ainslie.
There were two separate groups present. One was the Catch the Fire Ministries, whose leader claimed that last year's bushfires were God's wrath on Victoria for legalising abortion. They believed that local witches had been holding black masses at the top of the mountain, and so they turned up to "pull down the strongholds of Satan", to hold a prayer offensive (really, can't you come up with a better term??) and perform an exorcism to take a hex off of Parliament.
I work in Parliament, and whilst the IT system is sometimes a bit dodgy, I wouldn't go so far as to attribute my computer freezing up to some kind of satanic curse. I certainly don't feel moved to loudly sing repetitive hymns and speak in tongues and generally make a spectacle of myself. I also don't believe that God is waiting to smack us around with tsunamis or bushfires or earthquakes for stepping out of line.
And yet, I do believe in God. I was raised in a religious household, and at my core I remain religious. Until a year and a half ago, I was giving serious consideration to becoming an Anglican priest. In the end I decided I wasn't suited to that particular calling. In recent months I've felt rather uninspired about my faith (at least in a public sense), but I still believe in the central tenets of Christianity as much as I ever did.
We live in a world marred by suffering. But one thing that has always stuck with me through years of theological reflection is the idea of a God who understands suffering, because God has suffered. If you believe in orthodox Christianity, this means that God has given up a place in heaven to experience the very worst of humanity. Pain, intolerance, anger, pettiness, and all the terrible things that we are subjected to (and that we subject other to for that matter) are all things that God understands intimately because Jesus allowed himself to experience them. He allowed himself to be beaten and broken, to be sent away for execution in the most painful and humiliating way possible, and in the end to experience a lonely and shameful death, letting go of all he has.
And then, having lost everything and fallen so low, he is lifted back up again. Having suffered, he transcends suffering. Having died, he transcends death itself.
I find that I feel closest to God in times of suffering and weakness. The lessons of redemption seem to cut through so much better under those circumstances. When I've been stripped of all the fronts I put up to defend myself, I am powerfully aware of God's presence. When I'm stuck in the darkness, the light seems to find me.
So that's a snapshot of what I believe.
But my faith is an intensely personal thing. It's not something I feel comfortable shouting from the rooftops (or in this case, mountaintops).
Which brings me back to Mt Ainslie. The other group at the top of the hill was the Australian Sex Party. It wasn't an accident that they were at the same place at the same time. While the fundamentalists were singing about the blood of Jesus, the sex people countered with "It's Raining Men." While the fundamentalists spoke in tongues, some of the sex party onlookers shouted that God didn't exist, that "you're all a bunch of dickheads" and other heckles of varying quality. Nobody from either side was convinced or converted, and the whole spectacle was a bit unedifying.
The sex party people did have a BBQ on, and they gave me a sausage. (Literally, not in a euphemistic way thank you very much!)
TW: Triceps and Shoulders - 150 Skull Crushers, 100 Shoulder Presses, 50 Clean and Press, 50 Dips, and the the run upp and down Mt Ainslie.
no subject
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I've seen people speaking in tongues on a few rare occasions, and never understood it. To be honest, part of me wants to call bullsh*t on the whole thing. Far be it for me to say how the Spirit moves people, but so many times it just sounded like they were making it up themselves.
no subject
Agree on the BS w/ the speaking in tounges thing too..but I also think there's a darker aspect.