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vupcyg/codkids Collaboration
| Gates Open: | 5:30 P.M. |
| Crusade Begins: | 7:00 P.M. |
| Musical Guests: | Red, Phil Wickham, Lincoln Brewster, more to be announced |
I must talk in this chapter about what the Christians call Faith. Roughly speaking, the word Faith seems to be used by Christians in two senses or on two levels, and I will take them in turn. In the first sense it means simply Belief—accepting or regarding as true the doctrines of Christianity. That is fairly simple. But what does puzzle people—at least it used to puzzle me—is the fact that Christians regard faith in this sense as a virtue. I used to ask how on earth it can be a virtue—what is there moral or immoral about believing or not believing a set of statements? Obviously, I used to say, a sane man accepts or rejects any statement, not because he wants or does not want to, but because the evidence seems to him good or bad. If he were mistaken about the goodness or badness of the evidence that would not mean he was a bad man, but only that he was not very clever. And if he thought the evidence bad but tried to force himself to believe in spite of it, that would be merely stupid.
Well, I think I still take that view. But what I did not see then— and a good many people do not see still—was this. I was assuming that if the human mind once accepts a thing as true it will automatically go on regarding it as true, until some real reason for reconsidering it turns up. In fact, I was assuming that the human mind is completely ruled by reason. But that is not so. For example, my reason is perfectly convinced by good evidence that anaesthetics do not smother me and that properly trained surgeons do not start operating until I am unconscious. But that does not alter the fact that when they have me down on the table and clap their horrible mask over my face, a mere childish panic begins inside me. I start thinking I am going to choke, and I am afraid they will start cutting me up before I am properly under. In other words, I lose my faith in anaesthetics. It is not reason that is taking away my faith: on the contrary, my faith is based on reason. It is my imagination and emotions. The battle is between faith and reason on one side and emotion and imagination on the other.
When you think of it you will see lots of instances of this. A man knows, on perfectly good evidence, that a pretty girl of his acquaintance is a liar and cannot keep a secret and ought not to be trusted; but when he finds himself with her his mind loses its faith in that bit of knowledge and he starts thinking, “Perhaps she’ll be different this time,” and once more makes a fool of himself and tells her something he ought not to have told her. His senses and emotions have destroyed his faith in what he really knows to be true. Or take a boy learning to swim. His reason knows perfectly well that an unsupported human body will not necessarily sink in water: he has seen dozens of people float and swim. But the whole question is whether he will be able to go on believing this when the instructor takes away his hand and leaves him unsupported in the water—or whether he will suddenly cease to believe it and get in a fright and go down.
Now just the same thing happens about Christianity. I am not asking anyone to accept Christianity if his best reasoning tells him that the weight of the evidence is against it. That is not the point at which Faith comes in. But supposing a man’s reason once decides that the weight of the evidence is for it. I can tell that man what is going to happen to him in the next few weeks. There will come a moment when there is bad news, or he is in trouble, or is living among a lot of other people who do not believe it, and all at once his emotions will rise up and carry out a sort of blitz on his belief. Or else there will come a moment when he wants a woman, or wants to tell a lie, or feels very pleased with himself, or sees a chance of making a little money in some way that is not perfectly fair: some moment, in fact, at which it would be very convenient if Christianity were not true. And once again his wishes and desires will carry out a blitz. I am not talking of moments at which any real new reasons against Christianity turn up. Those have to be faced and that is a different matter. I am talking about moments where a mere mood rises up against it.
Now Faith, in the sense in which I am here using the word, is the art of holding on to things your reason has once accepted, in spite of your changing moods. For moods will change, whatever view your reason takes. I know that by experience. Now that I am a Christian I do have moods in which the whole thing looks very improbable: but when I was an atheist I had moods in which Christianity looked terribly probable.
This rebellion of your moods against your real self is going to come anyway. That is why Faith is such a necessary virtue: unless you teach your moods “where they get off,” you can never be either a sound Christian or even a sound atheist, but just a creature dithering to and fro, with its beliefs really dependent on the weather and the state of its digestion. Consequently one must train the habit of Faith.
The first step is to recognise the fact that your moods change. The next is to make sure that, if you have once accepted Christianity, then some of its main doctrines shall be deliberately held before your mind for some time every day. That is why daily prayers and religious reading and church going are necessary parts of the Christian life. We have to be continually reminded of what we believe. Neither this belief nor any other will automatically remain alive in the mind. It must be fed. And as a matter of fact, if you examined a hundred people who had lost their faith in Christianity, I wonder how many of them would turn out to have been reasoned out of it by honest argument? Do not most people simply drift away?
2 Timothy 3.14:: But as for you, continue in what you have learned and have become convinced of …
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I’m not talking about the type of meditation where you sit on the floor with your legs crossed and fingers pinched into an okay sign. I’m talking about mediation where you try to hone your spirit to be more receptive to God’s words through the Holy Spirit. We call it praying but seldom analyze the process because it almost becomes second nature for Christians. It’s a quick, “Thank you; Forgive me for this and that; Bless this list of people I care for” - instant message (Post-It for the older folks) we send to God. We pile on these messages and log off with an “Amen”.
Any pre-teen knows that you can’t get messages if you log off during a chat session. Yet, we do it all the time. Just as God is about to reply to our message, we’re no longer logged in and moving on with our lives.
So… with our daily lives moving so fast, when do we have time to take a breather and pray? Are there times when Sunday is fast approaching and you realize you haven’t prayed in a few days? Or you can’t remember the last time you really had an honest “conversation” with God?
I figured I start by sharing my time-out moments in hopes to offer a few suggestions and also for those who read this, to solicit your opinions.
First would be the obvious “before your meal” prayer. But seriously… that’s no better than a “thanks for the grub” pep-talk. Doesn’t count unless you’re praying with a group or you get really inspired and actually cover all the bases.
Second, (another obvious one) would be in bed, before sleeping. But this one is also highly inconsistent because there are many nights when you simply pass out – without a though. Not to mention, the prayer will sometimes turn into a lullaby and you fall asleep in the middle of prayer. This prayer only works with the traditional, kneel on the side of your bed and hands folded method. Otherwise, you’re only kidding yourself if you say you’re going to having a meaningful prayer before bed. I mean think about that phrase, “prayer before bed”. It’s a time you spend “before” you get into bed. So, if you want this to work, you have to get out of the covers and off the bed.
Third, (personal favorite) is on the can. Yeah… when you’re dropping Mr. 2. I don’t know about you, but when it’s time for me to sit on the throne, I SIT. I don’t meditate all the time, but there are times when I’m deep in thought way beyond having taken care of business. I won’t go into too much detail, but give it a try next time you’re there for an extended stay. I can get all biological and explain how you’ll have more energy for thought once you’ve made a purge, but I’m sure you’ve felt that sensation when you’re head magically clears up after a serious expunging. At least it’s an activity you do on a consistent basis that could lead to a very productive habit.
Fourth and fifth are still in the restroom, but cleaner. Try praying while running the shower over your head for a minute or two. It’s very relaxing. Not to mention, metaphorically cleansing. Then come out and finish the thought while brushing your teeth. It’s process that’s probably second nature, thus a perfect opportunity to invest some brain power to organizing a few convictions (unless you count your brush strokes).
Sixth is when you’re in the car or any transportation. Works better if you’re traveling alone or your fellow traveller turns on the radio and you have your thoughts to yourself. Don’t miss out on this opportunity to check if you got any messages from “God:”.
These are habits I’ve tried to instill in my life, but the prayers that have had the most effect in my life are the prayers of others. My parents, pastors, spiritual leaders, friends and family. Without their prayers, I would not have been able to reap all of God’s awesome grace in my life. Share your prayers with those you trust and believe there are always someone praying for you.