I. Destroyed by Introspection: The Anatomy of a Dream
It would be difficult to make the case that all this ‘matter’ which we perceive with our higher faculties - every so-called spiritual experience, every recognition of divine providence, every feeling of responsibility to higher law - is no more than a contrivance of our poetical minds; that is, if it were not for the wide availability of like phenomena in our daily experience. Phenomena which, opportunely, are much simpler to debase. As one instance, let’s consider dreams.
According to one theory, dreams are explained as “random images and random feelings which our unconscious minds attempt to integrate into a semi-intelligible plot.” Why our brains might have evolved to perform such a behavior is obvious. We are highly cognitive creatures whose primary survival adaptation is a brain highly adept at orienting itself in a world of vast and confusing sensory stimuli. In other words, a dream is the result of all the brain’s specialized components performing their natural function in a less than accommodating context. But do they have any inherent meaning? Absolutely not.
This function of the brain to impart meaning to the random and disjointed fragments we call dreams has also the curious effect of misleading us into belief. What I mean is, when we wake up, we do not at first recognize the dream for what it is but are instead under the impression its plot is intelligible. And as long as we are under the spell, we might venture to tell others what our dream was about. Only then, when we focus our direct attention on it, is the spell broken. We remember that during the part where we were walking in the park with our girlfriend, our girlfriend was sometimes replaced with someone else, sometimes even something else (a goat, maybe?)…and the park was only sometimes a park; other times, the mall. Perhaps this phenomenon is what lies behind the curse in Cinderella: after the clock strikes twelve, the horse-drawn carriage reverts back to the giant pumpkin shell, the beautiful dress into tattered rags, etc.
In summary, a defining characteristic of a dream is that it can only be alluded to. If we are to properly enjoy or experience them, it must be by a peripheral approach. Dreams simply will not - can not - survive our direct scrutiny. In this context, hear Lewis’ description of Joy, which he ultimately understood to be the “voice” that beckoned Him to conversion.
“Because I was still young and the whole world of beauty was opening before me, my own officious obstructions were often swept aside and, startled into self-forgetfulness, I again tasted Joy. But far more often I frightened away by my greedy impatience to snare it, and, even when it came, instantly destroyed it by introspection, and at all times vulgarized it by my false assumptions about its nature.” (Surprised by Joy, pg. 163)
“Destroyed by introspection”, though perhaps not definitively so, is a characteristic suggestive of unreality. It is at least one quality which we have to chalk up as a similarity between the realm of fiction and the realm occupied by the promises of Christianity. If this first evidence of the substance of Christianity seems at all insubstantial, hear the next:
“The second glimpse [of joy] came through Squirrel Nutkin; through it only, though I loved all the Beatrix Potter books. But the rest of them were merely entertaining; it administered the shock, it was a trouble. It troubled me with what I can only describe as the Idea of Autumn. It sounds fantastic to say that one can be enamored of a season, but that is something like what happened; and, as before, the experience was one of intense desire. And one went back to the book, not to gratify the desire (that was impossible - how can one possess Autumn?) but to reawake it.” (Surprised by Joy, pg. 14)
This one, for reason of sheer peculiarity, might have slipped by me (or over my head) had I not experienced Joy in the same way many times before. It may have even then retained some weight in my mind had I not soon afterward heard Kris Lobasz exclaim on one particularly crisp Autumn day, “Aah, God is good…it’s weird, but the weather has such an effect on my spiritual life!” Then I began to wonder…Why not, if our brains impart such meaning to the obviously meaningless context of dreams, wouldn’t it be similarly inclined to attach meaning to other contexts? Certainly there is clearer line of logic leading from the input datum: “I am infatuated with Autumn” to the conclusion: “My brain has incidentally ascribed undue significance to this experience” than the alternative conclusion: “The spiritual world has just communicated itself through the medium of Autumn.” Yet we are often convinced by the latter…
II. Romance
As another example, consider the experience of romantic infatuation. Again, we have a highly specialized function of our brain applying itself to an unaccommodating context. Stimulated by the notion of finding a mate, all of our vested faculties begin performing their respective jobs. We are all too familiar with the role of certain other reproductive faculties and its often inopportune jump into action; and the brain is certainly no exception. Without much regard for timing or propriety, our minds can begin creating a fairytale storyline with the most unreciprocated love interest. We start to hang on every word that passes between us and our “crush”, imparting meaning where she meant none and receiving signs of her returned interest when, in reality, “it’s all in our heads”. It’s purposeful imagination - a term that makes me awfully uncomfortable. The moment the kid who pretends to be a pony begins thinking he is in fact a pony, we have a problem. It is important that our recreational imagination never bleeds into the realm of reality, and it seems that at least in two instances, it does just that.
It’s worth noting that romanticism seems to be one of those qualities that people possess to varying degrees. “To each a measure was given.” Consequently, the resultant tendencies might not be properly appreciated by those to whom a smaller measure is given. For some (we have all heard the tale of Don Quixote), the draw of romance seems to be the predominant factor influencing their behavior and decision-making processes. Perhaps for these individuals the world is colored even more vibrantly, their experiences seemingly more infused with heavenly whispers, than is the average man’s. Hence, romance can go somewhat haywire, drive a man into obsession or, as the story goes, battles with windmills.
III. Conclusion
This discussion has been more or less an attempt to answer the question posed in the first: What realization might drive a man to dismiss the desire which is so fundamental to his nature? What might man experience, or what path of reason might he follow, to ultimately concede that the thing most desired by him was mere moonshine, a pleasant fiction? It is my hope that I have demonstrated with an honest consideration of the competing evidences, that such a resignation might, in may instances, be a sincere response to the apparent facts of our existence. And, as I previously suggested, it may be the most passionate lovers of heaven that are most susceptible to disbelief in it.
What is happening spiritually when man sobers up and confesses, “It is too good to be true”? I think this sentiment on the lips of a Christian ought to concern us more than it does. Is such a confession not a resignation of their hope in the very promises of scripture - that which I even went so far as to call the centerpiece of the Bible? The fact that our experiences in this world often fall short - even fly in the face - of our biblical hope is inescapable. It is a weighty truth; one which every Christian - if they consider themselves true lovers of home - should make an attempt to reconcile. If we sleep on this task, may we find ourselves also on the receiving end of the Psalmist’s curse:
“If I forget you, O Jerusalem, may my right hand forget its skill. May my tongue cling to the roof of my mouth if I do not remember you, if I do not consider Jerusalem my highest joy.” (Ps. 137:5-6)
It’s time we become accountable to the hope inside us…not only to preach it, but to live by it; to feed and nurture it until this unaccommodating existence feels tight around us, like big fish in a small pond. We need to get to the place where we truly understand why people become disbelievers; where we ourselves run the greatest risk of it because we are such passionate lovers of home. I understand how naturally the blessings of this life - whether dispensed coincidentally or providentially - can serve to assuage our hunger for the substance of God’s promises (Dan. 1:8), but there are simply too many Christians out there who glaze over when you speak mournfully of home. We should understand better than anyone the pain of being restricted from living true to our design, true to the life intended for us. If we don’t feel it ourselves, if we lack that perspective, then let us exercise those spiritual disciplines which draw it out of us: self-denial (Dan. 1:8, 1 Cor. 7:5), fasting (Is. 58), and service (Eph. 4:1-16, Phil. 2:3). Whatever it takes to remember home, let’s do it.
“By the rivers of Babylon we sat and wept when we remembered Zion. There on the poplars we hung our harps, for there our captors asked us for songs, our tormentors demanded songs of joy; they said, ‘Sing us one of the songs of Zion!’ How can we sing the songs of the Lord while in a foreign land? If I forget you, O Jerusalem, may my right hand forget its skill. May my tongue cling to the roof of my mouth if I do not remember you, if I do not consider Jerusalem my highest joy.” (Ps. 137:1-6)
[Further reading on this subject includes: Heaven: The Heart’s Deepest Longing (Peter Kreeft); The Republic, pgs. 63-83, 319, 334-336 (Plato); The Abolition of Man, Ch. 1 (C.S. Lewis); Mere Christianity (C.S. Lewis); The Weight of Glory: Is Theology Poetry (C.S. Lewis); Surprised by Joy (C.S. Lewis); Epic (John Eldredge); Wild at Heart (John Eldredge); Dan. 7:27; Matt. 3:2, 5:1-12, 6:5-15, 27:11; Heb. 11:8-10, 13-16, 24-27; John 4:20-24; 2 Tim. 4:18; Rev. 11:15]
It would be difficult to make the case that all this ‘matter’ which we perceive with our higher faculties - every so-called spiritual experience, every recognition of divine providence, every feeling of responsibility to higher law - is no more than a contrivance of our poetical minds; that is, if it were not for the wide availability of like phenomena in our daily experience. Phenomena which, opportunely, are much simpler to debase. As one instance, let’s consider dreams.
According to one theory, dreams are explained as “random images and random feelings which our unconscious minds attempt to integrate into a semi-intelligible plot.” Why our brains might have evolved to perform such a behavior is obvious. We are highly cognitive creatures whose primary survival adaptation is a brain highly adept at orienting itself in a world of vast and confusing sensory stimuli. In other words, a dream is the result of all the brain’s specialized components performing their natural function in a less than accommodating context. But do they have any inherent meaning? Absolutely not.
This function of the brain to impart meaning to the random and disjointed fragments we call dreams has also the curious effect of misleading us into belief. What I mean is, when we wake up, we do not at first recognize the dream for what it is but are instead under the impression its plot is intelligible. And as long as we are under the spell, we might venture to tell others what our dream was about. Only then, when we focus our direct attention on it, is the spell broken. We remember that during the part where we were walking in the park with our girlfriend, our girlfriend was sometimes replaced with someone else, sometimes even something else (a goat, maybe?)…and the park was only sometimes a park; other times, the mall. Perhaps this phenomenon is what lies behind the curse in Cinderella: after the clock strikes twelve, the horse-drawn carriage reverts back to the giant pumpkin shell, the beautiful dress into tattered rags, etc.
In summary, a defining characteristic of a dream is that it can only be alluded to. If we are to properly enjoy or experience them, it must be by a peripheral approach. Dreams simply will not - can not - survive our direct scrutiny. In this context, hear Lewis’ description of Joy, which he ultimately understood to be the “voice” that beckoned Him to conversion.
“Because I was still young and the whole world of beauty was opening before me, my own officious obstructions were often swept aside and, startled into self-forgetfulness, I again tasted Joy. But far more often I frightened away by my greedy impatience to snare it, and, even when it came, instantly destroyed it by introspection, and at all times vulgarized it by my false assumptions about its nature.” (Surprised by Joy, pg. 163)
“Destroyed by introspection”, though perhaps not definitively so, is a characteristic suggestive of unreality. It is at least one quality which we have to chalk up as a similarity between the realm of fiction and the realm occupied by the promises of Christianity. If this first evidence of the substance of Christianity seems at all insubstantial, hear the next:
“The second glimpse [of joy] came through Squirrel Nutkin; through it only, though I loved all the Beatrix Potter books. But the rest of them were merely entertaining; it administered the shock, it was a trouble. It troubled me with what I can only describe as the Idea of Autumn. It sounds fantastic to say that one can be enamored of a season, but that is something like what happened; and, as before, the experience was one of intense desire. And one went back to the book, not to gratify the desire (that was impossible - how can one possess Autumn?) but to reawake it.” (Surprised by Joy, pg. 14)
This one, for reason of sheer peculiarity, might have slipped by me (or over my head) had I not experienced Joy in the same way many times before. It may have even then retained some weight in my mind had I not soon afterward heard Kris Lobasz exclaim on one particularly crisp Autumn day, “Aah, God is good…it’s weird, but the weather has such an effect on my spiritual life!” Then I began to wonder…Why not, if our brains impart such meaning to the obviously meaningless context of dreams, wouldn’t it be similarly inclined to attach meaning to other contexts? Certainly there is clearer line of logic leading from the input datum: “I am infatuated with Autumn” to the conclusion: “My brain has incidentally ascribed undue significance to this experience” than the alternative conclusion: “The spiritual world has just communicated itself through the medium of Autumn.” Yet we are often convinced by the latter…
II. Romance
As another example, consider the experience of romantic infatuation. Again, we have a highly specialized function of our brain applying itself to an unaccommodating context. Stimulated by the notion of finding a mate, all of our vested faculties begin performing their respective jobs. We are all too familiar with the role of certain other reproductive faculties and its often inopportune jump into action; and the brain is certainly no exception. Without much regard for timing or propriety, our minds can begin creating a fairytale storyline with the most unreciprocated love interest. We start to hang on every word that passes between us and our “crush”, imparting meaning where she meant none and receiving signs of her returned interest when, in reality, “it’s all in our heads”. It’s purposeful imagination - a term that makes me awfully uncomfortable. The moment the kid who pretends to be a pony begins thinking he is in fact a pony, we have a problem. It is important that our recreational imagination never bleeds into the realm of reality, and it seems that at least in two instances, it does just that.
It’s worth noting that romanticism seems to be one of those qualities that people possess to varying degrees. “To each a measure was given.” Consequently, the resultant tendencies might not be properly appreciated by those to whom a smaller measure is given. For some (we have all heard the tale of Don Quixote), the draw of romance seems to be the predominant factor influencing their behavior and decision-making processes. Perhaps for these individuals the world is colored even more vibrantly, their experiences seemingly more infused with heavenly whispers, than is the average man’s. Hence, romance can go somewhat haywire, drive a man into obsession or, as the story goes, battles with windmills.
III. Conclusion
This discussion has been more or less an attempt to answer the question posed in the first: What realization might drive a man to dismiss the desire which is so fundamental to his nature? What might man experience, or what path of reason might he follow, to ultimately concede that the thing most desired by him was mere moonshine, a pleasant fiction? It is my hope that I have demonstrated with an honest consideration of the competing evidences, that such a resignation might, in may instances, be a sincere response to the apparent facts of our existence. And, as I previously suggested, it may be the most passionate lovers of heaven that are most susceptible to disbelief in it.
What is happening spiritually when man sobers up and confesses, “It is too good to be true”? I think this sentiment on the lips of a Christian ought to concern us more than it does. Is such a confession not a resignation of their hope in the very promises of scripture - that which I even went so far as to call the centerpiece of the Bible? The fact that our experiences in this world often fall short - even fly in the face - of our biblical hope is inescapable. It is a weighty truth; one which every Christian - if they consider themselves true lovers of home - should make an attempt to reconcile. If we sleep on this task, may we find ourselves also on the receiving end of the Psalmist’s curse:
“If I forget you, O Jerusalem, may my right hand forget its skill. May my tongue cling to the roof of my mouth if I do not remember you, if I do not consider Jerusalem my highest joy.” (Ps. 137:5-6)
It’s time we become accountable to the hope inside us…not only to preach it, but to live by it; to feed and nurture it until this unaccommodating existence feels tight around us, like big fish in a small pond. We need to get to the place where we truly understand why people become disbelievers; where we ourselves run the greatest risk of it because we are such passionate lovers of home. I understand how naturally the blessings of this life - whether dispensed coincidentally or providentially - can serve to assuage our hunger for the substance of God’s promises (Dan. 1:8), but there are simply too many Christians out there who glaze over when you speak mournfully of home. We should understand better than anyone the pain of being restricted from living true to our design, true to the life intended for us. If we don’t feel it ourselves, if we lack that perspective, then let us exercise those spiritual disciplines which draw it out of us: self-denial (Dan. 1:8, 1 Cor. 7:5), fasting (Is. 58), and service (Eph. 4:1-16, Phil. 2:3). Whatever it takes to remember home, let’s do it.
“By the rivers of Babylon we sat and wept when we remembered Zion. There on the poplars we hung our harps, for there our captors asked us for songs, our tormentors demanded songs of joy; they said, ‘Sing us one of the songs of Zion!’ How can we sing the songs of the Lord while in a foreign land? If I forget you, O Jerusalem, may my right hand forget its skill. May my tongue cling to the roof of my mouth if I do not remember you, if I do not consider Jerusalem my highest joy.” (Ps. 137:1-6)
[Further reading on this subject includes: Heaven: The Heart’s Deepest Longing (Peter Kreeft); The Republic, pgs. 63-83, 319, 334-336 (Plato); The Abolition of Man, Ch. 1 (C.S. Lewis); Mere Christianity (C.S. Lewis); The Weight of Glory: Is Theology Poetry (C.S. Lewis); Surprised by Joy (C.S. Lewis); Epic (John Eldredge); Wild at Heart (John Eldredge); Dan. 7:27; Matt. 3:2, 5:1-12, 6:5-15, 27:11; Heb. 11:8-10, 13-16, 24-27; John 4:20-24; 2 Tim. 4:18; Rev. 11:15]
(Response originally posted Aug. 22, 2007)
ReplyDeleteMR, I sincerely appreciate your response and intend to respond to it, hopefully, tomorrow. On a personal note, great to hear you emphasizing the place of the heart, as opposed to the intellect, in our relationship with the Lord. One correction however. In response to Ecclesiastes 11:5, I indeed DO know how the body is formed in the mother's womb. I read about it in an anatomy book. Just kidding. On a more serious note, please know that I agree with the vast majority of what your post said and my next post won't seek to elevate the role of the intellect over the heart, rather (I will try best I can) to understand how these two relate to one another and can be harmonized biblically. I'm looking forward to it. -AS
(Response originally posted Aug. 24, 2007, part 1/2)
ReplyDeleteAfter speaking with MR today I feel like our conversation settled much of the tension that seemingly existed in our viewpoints. Namely, both of us have a concern for the overemphasis that is placed on one of the elements of Christ’s summation of the greatest commandment found in Mark 12:30-31 (and the parallel passage in Matt. 22:34-40) to “love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind and with all your strength.” Particularly, MR’s focus in his response was a concern that I had dwelled, as some Christians have a habit of doing, too much on the role of the mind and forgotten the heart. Conversely, I was worried that the opposite has happened, which his response shows is clearly not the case in MR’s own life. With the intention of ending this discussion and redirecting the conversation toward it’s original purpose, I’ll leave us with this regarding the topic at hand:
“…if you confess with your mouth that Jesus is Lord and believe in your HEART that God raised him from the dead, you will be saved. For with the heart one believes and is justified, and with the mouth one confesses and is saved. For the Scripture says, ‘Everyone who believes in him will not be put to shame.’ For there is no distinction between Jew and Greek; the same Lord is Lord of all, bestowing his riches on all who call on him. For ‘everyone who calls on the name of the Lord will be saved’” (Romans 10:9-13)
Christians are all familiar with this great invitation and explanation of saving faith that states if we “believe in our HEART” not solely in our minds “that God raised him [Jesus] from the dead” that we will be saved. However, knowing with the mind that Jesus was raised from the dead is an antecedent of believing it in one’s heart. So the very means by which man is saved shows the place of both faculties being imperative in our relationship with God. I’m reminded of II Thessalonians 2:10 where “those who are perishing, [are perishing] because they refused to love the truth and so be saved.” Mere intellectual assent to the facts of the Gospel (e.g. God took the form of man, died on the cross, rose from the dead, etc.) is by no means what constitutes saving faith, rather a love and trust in those facts with one’s heart. I know that in the company of those who will read this blog all of that pretty much goes without beings said and I apologize for belaboring the point...(to be continued) -AS
(continued from above, part 2/2)
ReplyDelete“Can we truly expect the type of intimacy which many Christians are claiming is available to us or is nearness to God nothing more than harmony with the theology of the Bible? WHY DOES IT SEEM THAT CHRISTIANS ARE CONTINUALLY MISSING IT!?…‘Like sheep without a shepherd…’ That is the question.” -MR
Consider these quotes from A.W. Tozer’s The Pursuit of God that have impacted me immensely in this area:
“Sound Bible exposition is an imperative must in the Church of the Living God. Without it no church can be a New Testament church in any strict meaning of that term. But exposition may be carried on in such a way as to leave the hearers devoid of any true spiritual nourishment whatever. For it is not mere words that nourish the soul, but God himself, and unless and until the hearers find God in personal experience they are not he better for having heard the truth. The Bible is not an end in itself, but a means to bring men to an intimate and satisfying knowledge of God, that they may enter into Him, that they may delight in His Presence, may taste and know the inner sweetness of the very God himself in the core and center of their hearts.” (p. 9)
“God wills that we should push on into His presence and live our whole life there. This is to be known to us in conscious experience. It is more than a doctrine to be held; it is a life to be enjoyed every moment of every day.” (p. 34)
“We have been trying to apply machine-age methods to our relations with God. WE read our chapter, have our short devotions and rush away, hoping to make up for our deep bankruptcy by attending another gospel meeting…the tragic results of this spirit are all about us: shallow lives, hollow religious philosophies, the preponderance of the element of us in gospel meetings, the glorification of men, trust in religious externalities, quasi-religious fellowships, salesmanship methods, the mistaking of dynamic personality for the power of the Spirit” (p. 65)
To my shame, I am especially guilty of this last one and in his kindness God is working on me in that area. I recognize that I probably haven’t sufficiently addressed all the issues raised, but I feel like at this point it isn’t really necessary to because there is mutual agreement, I think, on the majority of the questions at hand. It is my hope that we avoid both the Pharisaic reliance on the mind and disregard for the spirit of the Law, yet at the same time don’t make the mistake of neglecting God’s use of our intellect as a means by which to worship Him. -AS
To see the THIRD half of this discussion (sorry, miscalculated again), please see "Faith: Part 3" in our September 2009 archives.
ReplyDeleteOriginal post date for this series was August 2007. -MR