My wife Betty is near the end of her 37th week of pregnancy now.  In expectation of our first child, we have been preparing, waiting, taking classes, reading books and sewing (well, the last two are more her).  The more I reflect on this time, the more I realise how much the pregnancy process points to the work of another – that is, God.

I think it was just before this time last year… Betty and I were thinking that it was about time we were more proactive about having a child.  One month passes.  Then two… and she wasn’t pregnant.  We knew it sometimes takes months or years for a couple to conceive.  But it was hard not to think it was never to happen.  Shortly after we found out she was pregnant, we randomly watched a documentary showing actually how complex and how many things had to come together at the same time for a conception to happen.  While it is not a man being raised from the dead, indeed there is something truly miraculous about the start of a new life.

It actually really hit me when we were in our parent education class.  The instructor was saying how when a child is born, the ideal scenario is when the head pops out first.  THEN, there are these muscles in the mother’s body that actually turn the baby something like a quarter turn.  Why?  So the shoulders can fit through more easily.  Did you get that?  The muscles actually turns the baby after the head pops out so that the shoulders can more easily fit through.  Then the instructor in this public hospital says, “It’s just so amazing how our bodies are designed.” (Not meaning to get into an Evolution vs. ID debate here… just saying there is just something very beautiful in how our bodies were made.)

Then, the other day, we were visited by the community midwife to brief us on any final details we needed to know about the childbirth.  She was talking about how Betty needs to deliver the placenta after delivering the baby (yes, it is a weird idea) and asking her if she wanted to have an injection to accelerate the delivering of the placenta.  At this point, I asked the midwife how long the umbilical cord was… that is, if the placenta was still in Betty, if the baby could be brought up to her still.  The midwife responds and says, “Actually, yes.  And if the baby breast-feeds immediately, Betty’s body will produce a hormone to make her uterus contract and help her deliver the placenta quicker.”  She went on to say how there are all these medical benefits of breast-feeding (e.g., lower change of ovarian and breast cancer, transferring of antibodies to the child, etc.).

While I appreciate all the achievements in medical technology and love technology myself (after all, I do work for a multi-national technology innovator… plug, plug), I am reminded that without all of these things, women have been giving birth for a very long time now all by themselves.  We have chosen not to know the gender of the child beforehand and are now waiting anxiously and nervously for the child to come any day… week… minute now.  But I am grateful that this child and our lives are all in the hands of the Almighty, the Creator of the cosmos.  Thank you God.

Perhaps one of the most difficult questions posed to Christianity is how a good and all-powerful God can allow great natural disasters to occur.  This, I would say, is a mystery that most Christians (including myself) have a really hard time dealing with.  However, on the flip side, the way people have responded to recent crises has, for me, given a hefty argument for the existence of God.

A report (link and pdf) just came out a few days ago that surveyed Americans about their willingness to donate to disaster relief.  The numbers, to me, were quite astonishing:

Now, if you figure that the economy has not been doing too well for the last few years, these stats are quite significant.  Nearly 45% of those surveyed have or are planning to donate to Japan.  Granted, when something happens in the US like Katrina, up to 84% of Americans surveyed were willing to put money to the relief efforts.  But even in international cases, you still have around 50% of the American population reaching for the strapped funds.  Why?

The German philosopher Immanuel Kant once posited something known as the moral argument for the existence of God.  The basic idea is that there seems to be a basic sense of morality in all of us that we can rationally ascertain; this morality points to a Giver of morality that is outside of our natural realm.

Now, if you take a strongly evolutionary stance on life that assumes the “survival of the fittest” (which, I would say, exists in many workplaces), then it makes no sense to help somebody else –unless, of course, you are to get something in return.  It’s the I scratch your back, you scratch mine mentality.  But what I found significant in this survey is it seems to defy the dog-eat-dog mentality.

Even if we are stretched financially and at risk of losing our jobs, we still want to help in any little way possible those whom we deem to be in great need.  It suggests that life is not full of pure randomness and that there is a sense of interconnectedness in the world.  Our moral compasses must come from something outside of ourselves.  It comes from a transcendent moral reference point.  It comes from God.

Now, throughout that session, several delegates discussed this question and repeatedly there was the critique against “conservative Christians” or “evangelicals” who have not cared about society.  On the one hand, as an evangelical myself, I was a bit offended by the attacks levied by those in attendance.  On the other hand, I must confess that conservative Christianity has not been on the forefront of the social problems this world faces.  Historically speaking, conservatives have shunned away from social reconstruction and emphasised an individualised, spiritual reconstruction.  This world is fleeting and not of our concern — we must simply save souls.  What I find additionally interesting is that, while I cannot agree with Hick’s thinking, I have to say that his theology has given him the philosophical impetus to engage the society and work towards remedying the groans of the cosmos (Romans 8:22).

Then yesterday at church, the preacher Barry spoke about the problem where Christians can be too “academic.”  In saying that, he was not attacking education or theology, by any means.  What he was saying was that we often are too interested in aimless discussions and heresy wars.  We therefore forget that we are Christians who are to be a city on a hill — shining God’s light upon this world and society.  Again, rightly so, the same critique is levied against conservative Christians.  Yet I would say (and I think Barry agrees with me here) that the “academic” aspect of Christianity in and of itself is not bad as long as that is not the entire preoccupation of the faith.

Such academia is meant to spill out in practice (much like with Hick).  We know that God is a loving God hence we too must be a loving people, loving those who are unloved.  We know that God is a just God hence we too must be advocates of justice when our local communities are not interested in justice.  We know that God offers hope in the midst of desperation and dire situations and hence we too are to bring that hope to those who have no hope at all.  If anything, conservative Christians should be even more on the forefront of leading the charge for concern in this world.

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While money is never the end solution for the world’s problems, Christians are called to use whatever we have to participate in God’s work, as a means of worship.  On the morning of the last day of the conference, just before we academically discussed the question of social advocacy, an 8.9 earthquake hit Japan followed by waves of devastation and despair upon that island.  One organisation to consider supporting is Asian Access who, through their network of workers in Japan (a friend of mine included), are trying to help in the relief efforts at this crucial time. If you are able, put some moneys to the work in Japan, whether it be Asian Access or another.

Update 15 March 2011 @ 19:25 GMT: Just got word that my employer will match dollar-for-dollar up to $10K for Japan relief, through World Vision.

Earlier this week, I took a 3hr+ train from Birmingham to Durham to attend a conference at the University (put on by CODEC) that explored the “theological refraction” of the internet.  One of the major questions discussed in the conference was should theology play a role in the internet, and vice versa.

The morning the conference was to begin, I decided to go down the road to the magnificent Durham Cathedral for morning prayer service.  I am not an Anglican, but wanted to pray and figured what better place to do that at the time then to go to this beautiful cathedral (below is a shot I took the evening before).

So I went… and was saddened.  In this grandiose building, there were but a handful of attendees to morning prayer.  But what was even more sad was that I had no clue what was happening the whole time I was there.

About an hour later, I attended this conference where one of the major themes discussed was whether or not we should engage theologically with the internet.  The answer seemed too obvious to me – but of course!  Maybe I am biased because I grew up using computers.  But technologies like the internet seems so much like an extension of the greater culture we live in and, therefore, an extension of what we must engage in what some theologians call a “theology of culture.”  Churches and cathedrals will remain relics of the past unless they are able to engage the advancements of this age.

I appreciated many of the discussions at this conference.  I think there was only one other technical person there (I was so jazzed up when he brought up the Turing test in his presentation!).  But that’s okay.  I appreciate the fact that many thoughtful people are asking questions about the internet’s impact on one’s understanding of the church, identity, society, etc.  (Among the many presentations, I found Tim Hutchings’ paper on Online Churches thoroughly fascinating.)  As Abraham Kuyper is often quoted as saying (and was echoed at the conference), “There is not a square inch in the whole domain of our human existence over which Christ, who is Sovereign over all, does not cry: ‘Mine!’”

When we moved to our new home in the UK, one of the first purchases for the house was a compost bin.  Most municipalities will subsidise the cost of such an investment (which is nice), so we got one from our local water company and have been filling it since.  I tell our friends that I will gladly compost their kitchen waste, but they think I am joking (and so does Betty).  Unfortunately, the other day when I was checking our compost bin I noticed a bunch of green stuff sprouting on the bottom.  Evidently, some grass has been growing in this rich, composted soil!  That’s okay — I just cut the grass and threw it back into the compost bin.  :)

I can’t find it now, but I remember reading a few weeks ago a blog that commented about St. Francis of Assisi’s love for nature.  The post basically argued that his love for nature was an outpouring of his love for God and all that God creates and works through.  While some people think it is weird to be “eco-friendly” or concerned about your “carbon footprint,” it is often forgotten that this is perhaps one of the first commands of God (besides making babies like rabbits) in Genesis 1:28. Being green is not only about being in vogue, but it is also about loving your Creator and all that He has made.

Since coming to England for my postgraduate, theological studies, I have come to the realisation that there needs to be a “suspension of belief” — that, in my writing, I cannot appeal to my biblical or doctrinal convictions as authoritative. To put it frankly, my beliefs don’t matter — the only thing that cuts it in the academia is rational logic.  This doesn’t mean that I should have no passion or practical applications or anything of that sort.  What it does mean is anything I say must be defendable and should be defended.  I must constantly navigate towards my thesis statement but I also must be dialectical and willing to bring to question all opinions, including those which I hold close.

What is at stake is one’s soul.  It has been said that “seminary” is like “cemetery” because so many people who have left it leave behind their faith.  But the counter-argument is that if you cannot be baptised by fire and survive, perhaps your faith really wasn’t that strong to begin with.  We must constantly challenge ourselves and our minds to grow and be refined.

At times I feel as though I want to think and write my thesis for the local congregation — afterall, theology must be rooted in the church.  Yet, I am also reminded time and time again that my audience, at least for this genre of writing, is not the congregation but the guild of academics.  It is a testing time but, as the Lord wills, His grace is sufficient.

One book I have come across that has been rather helpful is by Scott G. Brown entitled A Guide to Writing Academic Essays in Religious Studies (New York: Continuum, 2008).  Coming from my background, two quotes that I have greatly appreciated:

[A] strictly academic approach is not apt to shed light upon the ultimate questions of human existence.  But for pragmatic reasons, metaphysical investigations of religious truths are best conducted in places where all persons involve already agree upon a set of theological presuppositions, and that kind of consensus rarely occurs outside of academic communities that are based on religious affiliation, such as seminaries, Bible colleges…  In a context that is as religiously pluralistic as a public university, researchers cannot derive axioms from their faith, support their claims through appeal to revelation or dogma, or cite scripture as an authority that is above question.  Rather, they are obliged to limit themselves to theoretical assumptions, methods, forms of argument, and kinds of evidence that are open to scrutiny and challenge by anyone. (p. 5)

Academic [sic] essay writing is not a forum for defending personal or religious convictions or for disclosing one’s private thoughts. The writer of a research essay engages in the impersonal exercise of analysing a phenomenon in order to gain some rational understanding of its occurrence. The persuasiveness of the argument should therefore be logical rather than rhetorical, aimed at the intellect and not the heart. Appeals to the emotions or to religious values not only are out of place in academic writing but actually weaken one’s position, for by relying on these things one is tacitly acknowledging that the evidence does not provide sufficient strong support. (p. 10).

First was the barrage of “Hail to the Gates!” articles I came across on Gizmodo.  Today, of course, marks the day of retirement for the Microsoft founder.  Though he is a lot less hip than Steve Jobs and has led a company whose products were just not as cool, you gotta give props to a guy that puts his fortune towards the world.  This is the parable of the 58 billion talents.  Though, if I were him, I would not name the foundation after myself…

Then there was this great article I came across about Legos!  Of course, some people know I have a childhood love for Legos.  But check out a few of these random tidbits from this article:

• Why is there a hole in the head of the mini-figs now? We added this hole on the top of the head just in case any kids got one of the heads stuck on their throat. That way they would be able to keep breathing.
• Why there are no black minifigs? When the minifigure was first introduced 30 years ago, it was given the iconic yellow skin tone to reflect the non-specific and transcendental quality of a child’s imagination. In 2002, as more licensed properties were added to the assortment, the decision was made to introduce ethnic and skin tones more in keeping with the actual characters and personalities who were being replicated. This included the introduction of black minifigures. However, these ethnic minifigures are only used in our licensed sets, all Lego playthemes continue to use the generic yellow face.
• What happens to all the bad pieces? Is there a Lego heaven? Do they recycle them? Due to the precision of the brick molding machines, there are very few “bad” pieces—only 18 elements in every million produced fail to meet the company’s high standards. Extra pieces or pieces from boxes that are caught on the line and identified as missing pieces or have boxes that are slightly damaged are used for donation boxes that are distributed to underprivileged children’s organizations around the world.

But finally I came across a great article that fell closer to my heart than technology or Legos.  It was written by a man named Jim Wallis, the president of Sojourners, a magazine with a mission “to articulate the biblical call to social justice, inspiring hope and building a movement to transform individuals, communities, the church, and the world.”  His article was about the North Campus of New York Theological Seminary located in the Sing Sing Correctional Facility in Ossining, New York.  Yes, in prison.  The article and some of the feedback he received is quite inspiring.  It gives a new meaning to “setting the captives free.”  About 70 inmates were getting a full seminary education while in jail.  One prisoner told Jim Wallis,

“Jim, most of us at Sing Sing come from just about four or five neighborhoods in New York City. It’s like a train. You get on the train in my neighborhood when you are nine or ten years old, and the train ends up here….at Sing Sing.” But this young man had experienced a spiritual conversion inside of that prison, and was now enrolled in the New York Seminary program training pastors to work inside the prison system and to go back and work in those neighborhoods from which they had come. After the session that night, the young man came up to me to say goodbye, looked me in the eye, and said, “When I get out, I am going to go back and stop that train.”

This is the message of the gospel: that lives enraptured by God may burst with a contagious hope to impact this world.