Faith or Fatalism
It often seems to me that there isn't much of a difference between faith and fatalism. Faith says that God will do what's best. Fatalism says that what will happen, will happen.
On the face of it, those statements are different, but if you dig deeper they become much closer to each other. The typical Christian will say that everything good that happens is a blessing from God. If something bad happens, they will blame it on the devil. That seems entirely too convenient. If the same things happened to a fatalistic non-Christian, they would simply be resigned to whatever happens because it was going to happen anyway. That draws pretty close to Paul's statement, "I have learned to be content in all circumstances".
I find comfort in pondering the eternality of God. Now, by that, I do not mean that I think of God as having existed for a very, very long time and that He will continue to exist for a very long time. I don't think that is the picture the Bible gives us. It tells of a God, who inhabits eternity; that is, who lives presently in all of it and outside of it. He created time. We mark it by the devices He put in place.
I try to picture this as God holding the world's timeline, cupped in His unfathomable hands. As He looks into His hands, He sees (in the present tense) creation, the fall, every human that ever existed or will exist, the incarnation, the crucifixion, the resurrection, every sin ever committed, every future sin, every disease, every cure...all the way through beyond the point at which He will call an end to time.
From that perspective, which gives new flavor to omniscience, it is easy to imagine that God's understanding of the whole scope of someone's existence and the effect, which that existence will have on others is likely to be strikingly different than our understanding. Then when I ponder, for instance, the value of physical life vs. spiritual life and what healing might mean to the mind of an all-knowing God, I'm not sure how I should pray. If I ask God for something and it does happen, I will think that He answered my prayer. If it doesn't happen, I will conclude that it simply wasn't His will. Whether I pray at all or not, will not His will still be accomplished? Is it possible that one's physical ailment is part of a divine plan for spiritual good in some other? Is a physical ailment even significant in the ordering of an entirely spiritual Kingdom in which the physical is merely a passing illusion; a vapor?
These are questions that boggle my mind and I don't pretend to have found good answers for them. I rest currently on the premise that the point of my prayers, and my faith in His willingness to hear and answer them, is perhaps not so much about a quest for results or answers to prayer, but more about cultivating a relationship with my Eternal Father. More than I care about the thoughts and desires of my children's hearts, He cares about my thoughts and desires. He sees them all - the good, bad, and ugly. How much of a role they play in the cosmic ordering of events in this universe, I'm sure I'll never know. However, apparently He loves to hear me casting those cares on Him, perhaps for no other reason than that it demonstrates my utter inability to effect change and my recognition that He is Lord of all. Whatever the outcome, whether the object of my anguish is eliminated or not, I must eventually conclude that His will has been done or concede to erosion of my faith in His goodness. Whether that makes me a person of faith or of fatalism depends entirely on the perspective of the observer.
On the face of it, those statements are different, but if you dig deeper they become much closer to each other. The typical Christian will say that everything good that happens is a blessing from God. If something bad happens, they will blame it on the devil. That seems entirely too convenient. If the same things happened to a fatalistic non-Christian, they would simply be resigned to whatever happens because it was going to happen anyway. That draws pretty close to Paul's statement, "I have learned to be content in all circumstances".
I find comfort in pondering the eternality of God. Now, by that, I do not mean that I think of God as having existed for a very, very long time and that He will continue to exist for a very long time. I don't think that is the picture the Bible gives us. It tells of a God, who inhabits eternity; that is, who lives presently in all of it and outside of it. He created time. We mark it by the devices He put in place.
I try to picture this as God holding the world's timeline, cupped in His unfathomable hands. As He looks into His hands, He sees (in the present tense) creation, the fall, every human that ever existed or will exist, the incarnation, the crucifixion, the resurrection, every sin ever committed, every future sin, every disease, every cure...all the way through beyond the point at which He will call an end to time.
From that perspective, which gives new flavor to omniscience, it is easy to imagine that God's understanding of the whole scope of someone's existence and the effect, which that existence will have on others is likely to be strikingly different than our understanding. Then when I ponder, for instance, the value of physical life vs. spiritual life and what healing might mean to the mind of an all-knowing God, I'm not sure how I should pray. If I ask God for something and it does happen, I will think that He answered my prayer. If it doesn't happen, I will conclude that it simply wasn't His will. Whether I pray at all or not, will not His will still be accomplished? Is it possible that one's physical ailment is part of a divine plan for spiritual good in some other? Is a physical ailment even significant in the ordering of an entirely spiritual Kingdom in which the physical is merely a passing illusion; a vapor?
These are questions that boggle my mind and I don't pretend to have found good answers for them. I rest currently on the premise that the point of my prayers, and my faith in His willingness to hear and answer them, is perhaps not so much about a quest for results or answers to prayer, but more about cultivating a relationship with my Eternal Father. More than I care about the thoughts and desires of my children's hearts, He cares about my thoughts and desires. He sees them all - the good, bad, and ugly. How much of a role they play in the cosmic ordering of events in this universe, I'm sure I'll never know. However, apparently He loves to hear me casting those cares on Him, perhaps for no other reason than that it demonstrates my utter inability to effect change and my recognition that He is Lord of all. Whatever the outcome, whether the object of my anguish is eliminated or not, I must eventually conclude that His will has been done or concede to erosion of my faith in His goodness. Whether that makes me a person of faith or of fatalism depends entirely on the perspective of the observer.
posted by G.I. Joe | 7:58 AM
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