absolute truth

The Shadow of Cain, Reflected in the Mirror

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It’s against human nature to point out our own flaws. No one really wants to take Jesus’ advice and remove the logs from our own eyes, so we can see clearly to remove the specks from our neighbors’ eyes.

Sarcasm, snark and mockery are the hallmarks of my generation, and over the years -sad to say- I’ve become a master of all three. I throw stones from inside my own glass house all the time. Sometimes the best way to try to cope with a broken and messed up world is to find the humor in it.

Hypocrisy runs deep through the fabric of humanity. It’s funny when stupidity happens to someone else but we are just as stupid- even though the stupidity may take a different form.

I have to admit that no matter what I do my image is shot through with the shadow of Cain. I plot revenge against my enemies (even if I don’t have the means or the heart to carry out said revenge,) and I have to admit I have a certain sense of schaudenfreude when those I perceive to be assholes and/or idiots get theirs. I shouldn’t enjoy it, but I do. Too much…which is not at all like Jesus, Who warned us that we risk the fires of hell whenever we call our neighbor a fool- even if he or she is one.

Confession doesn’t come naturally to the sons and daughters of Cain. Our instinct is to put on our fig leaves and attempt to cover up our wickedness with our own self-righteous justifications. As flawed as we are, we still want to play the merit system- and we want to believe that God grades on the curve.

No one is worthy before God on their own merit.

In spite of what I do, or more likely fail to do, I still come to the table like Isaiah in Isaiah 6, the man of unclean lips, a filthy, disgusting piece of nastiness in the sight of a perfect, holy God.  The shadow of Cain is shot through me completely and I can’t fix it or wash it out.

The only merit earned in God’s merit system is a merit earned outside of us, a merit bought and paid for by the blood of Jesus Christ.

Even so, we all try to justify ourselves like the Pharisee in the temple.

“At least I’m not doing that.“

“I go to church every Sunday.”

“I give to the church and contribute to Christian education.”

Very well. As you should.

But…

No matter what I do my good works are as Isaiah describes in Isaiah 64:5-6. The ESV uses the polite term “polluted garment,” but the original Hebrew of this text isn’t quite so nice. The actual reference would be more like a used tampon or a bloody maxi pad. Something unspeakably nasty, and those are the good things I try to do.

I am thankful that even someone like me- a sinner who has no right to stand before my holy God has been invited to His table. His fiery coal burns the evil from my lips. He removes my guilt. He gives me His clean garment as a gift.

I still live in the shadow of Cain until the day when my Lord sees fit to call me home. But He forgives my sins. He heals my diseases and is fitting me for life in His Kingdom.

Plus ça Change, Plus C’est la Même Chose- Except for the Scenery

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I don’t remember much from high school French, other than the old saying that the more things change, the more things stay the same. Maybe if our illustrious French teacher, Mme. Novatny, could have gone out to smoke fewer than 3 Virginia Slim Menthol 120s per 45 minute class period, I might have learned more French in three years than je m’ennuie tellement. (I am so bored.) Apparently the Gen X ennui wasn’t confined to the Marion Harding Class of ’86. We were exemplary at it, but we didn’t realize it was a generational trait. We were told there was something wrong with just us.

Fast forward 38 years, and the ennui remains. For me, so does the depression and the sense of being deprived. Our heritage and history were stolen.

We lived the fall of the 20th century, just as we were coming of age. In 1983, as we were cranking up the Frontiers album and Steve Perry reminded us that all the heroes have gone east of Eden, we were in a very real sense being banished from the utopian idealism of the modern age.

We weren’t born with silver spoons in our mouths. We were thrown outside to fend for ourselves while Mom locked the screen door and turned up the TV.

We were born in the fallout of the end of a golden age, and we were denied our own.

I struggled from the beginning- overworked, underpaid, living in constant anxiety and existential dread. Add two failed marriages, near death in childbirth, working for insane employers for 20+ years, and dealing with years of chronic pain and expensive chronic illnesses, and I am just as downtrodden and hopeless as I was in 1986. I have absolutely nothing to show for all the aggravation. I am not beautiful or wealthy or successful or well liked. Nothing has changed there.

Only now I know that all my striving wasn’t worth a damn. If I would have known where I would end up I wouldn’t have tried so hard.

Granted, I have taken more of an interest in learning a second language. I have been studying German for about three years. Ich bin müde, und hoffnungslos. Je mehr sich die Dinge ändern, desto mehr bleiben sie gleich…

I cling to God. That part is different because I was so confused and cynical about spiritual things when I was younger. I honestly believe that it is by the grace of God alone that I haven’t blown my brains out. Lord knows it has been a temptation at times.

If anything my life has been an exercise in futility. Perhaps I should read Ecclesiastes again, or maybe Job. I don’t have a right to question God. It doesn’t make the futility of life make sense though.

Things That Might Be Right With the World, Absolute Truth, and the Arrogance of Supposition

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philosoraptor-alternate-realities

I listened to an interesting theological / philosophical discussion today regarding pre-modernism, modernism, and post-modernism this morning.  Post-modern thinking explains much of the downright irrational insanity rampant in society today. I can’t find myself signing on to the post-modern paradigm even though most of the rest of the world already has.  This must be where the media gets the insanity that there are seventy-nine different genders, and that some men get periods.  (I might argue the PMS theory, but if I did, I would have to posit that men have PMS all month long.  Men are actually more emotional and less adaptive to change than women, at least in my experience, although I really don’t want to get into that debate.)

drag queen

There is such a thing as absolute truth.  As my illustrious offspring (who is even more of a rational, practical type than I) will tell you, nobody gets away with breaking the law of gravity, and if you think you’re the exception, you’re going to have a bad time.

I do understand the value of asking questions and of questioning authority- especially today.  I have a lot of doubts regarding the “voices of authority,” especially in the media and in science, and I think my trepidation is warranted.  Being the cynic that I normally am, it’s logical for me to question things that fail to make sense.  It probably doesn’t help that I am very much a literal thinker.  I tend to see things in black and white.  I know the gray areas are there, but I’m not much for living in them.

When I see hoof prints on a farm, I’m going to act on the supposition that the resident equines are horses rather than zebras.

horse

This being said, I am not against change simply because it’s something new to learn.  I am against change that is enacted simply for the novelty of it, or change to avoid offending “special snowflake” sensitivities.

I say again, there is absolute truth. Three does not equal five no matter what kind of argument is put forth. Absolutes don’t change no matter how badly we wish they would. There are boundaries that cannot be crossed, and laws (like the law of gravity) that cannot be broken.  There are near infinite kinds of idolatry conceived in mankind’s denial of truth and rebellion against it.  In the wake of the Fall it seems all we can do is set up substitute systems that are destined to fail because they are built on lies and human hubris.

Of the three philosophic worldviews (pre-modernism, modernism and post-modernism) I would have to categorize myself as subscribing to modernity (the post-modern deconstruction of truth and complete dearth of certainty is an utterly distasteful concept to me) for most of my life.  I wanted to believe in the god of Science.  I wanted to latch on to the Brave New World.  For seven years of my life I tried to say to myself, There Is No God.  By the grace of God, He smacked me down and made me realize that it’s not my world, it’s His.  I am not the creator, I am not the captain of my soul, and I am not in control. Here are more corollaries of absolute truth, courtesy of the pre-modern world- or more accurately, courtesy of the Creator, who does not have to honor man-made constructs.

Cross

The pendulum of popular opinion will reach its shift point eventually.  As was demonstrated in the farce that was the Obama administration (no matter how rosy a picture the media tried to paint) the reality was the Emperor wasn’t wearing any clothes.  There was no substance to that regime and no purpose to it except maybe as a warning against eliminating standards and ignoring national borders. The post-modern theory that there is no reality and there are no absolutes is just as nonsensical and illogical as a grown man thinking he is adorned in finery when he’s naked as a jay bird.

fail

I wonder what’s going to happen when boys who think they’re girls (and vice versa) realize that the reality of biology is an absolute.

I wonder if the Western world will realize (in time) that toxic ideologies do exist, and that Islam is not a “religion of peace,” but in reality it is a form of fascism more extreme than Nazism hiding behind a false religion.

I wonder if future generations might discover the reality of Absolute Truth and forgo the social experiments.