Delusional People

Blue tooths are ridiculous. People are willing to appear out of their mind for the sake of convenience. It always takes me a few seconds to realize that someone is talking on their blue tooth, and that they aren't having a lively conversation with themselves. When I notice these people, I like to point them out to my friends. "Dude, check it out. That guy's insane!" It's always funny to imagine that people talking on their blue tooth are just extremely delusional.

Why are we so fascinated with people who have conversations with people who are not actually there? What is it about delusional people that is so interesting? These people live in an imaginary world. When we look at their actions from the outside, they appear totally ridiculous.

Maybe it's because we like to think of these people as being in a completely different category than we are.

I remember one time when I was at a coffee shop in Portland early one morning, and a customer walked up to the barista and threw a piece of pie at him. The customer said, "How's that for customer service? Never mess with a professional boxer!" And stormed out.

Everyone in the cafe - especially the barista - was left totally confused. I was thinking, "Who does this guy think he is?" But that was obvious. He thought he was a professional boxer. And as we all know, professional boxers have the right to throw pie at baristas who do not offer satisfying customer service.

My boxer friend was seriously delusional.

After this happened, the people in the cafe looked around at each other smiling in unbelief at the event that had occurred. It brought us a sense of unity. We were united in the fact that we weren't like this crazy delusional boxer guy. It's so nice to feel normal. It's so nice when you are the driver and not the squirrel trying not to get hit by the cars on the highway. But the truth is we are all delusional. We find our identity in ridiculous things, and we live our lives based on the ridiculous rights we assume from these ridiculous things.

I like to hangout with people with great personalities. They are fun to be around. After a while I notice that I start imagining myself to be these people when I engage with other people in conversations. It's weird.

And sometimes when I'm driving in my car alone I start to replay conversations in my mind, which turn out exactly how I would have liked them to: with me proving my formidable rationalism and wit. Sometimes when I'm playing my guitar in my room - even when I'm worshiping - I start to imagine playing in front of an admiring crowd of peers. Yeah, it's pretty ridiculous.

Sometimes when I write blogs like this I imagine myself being read by thousands of faithful subscribers.

There are things I choose to believe about myself that are quite frankly too embarrassing to repeat.

These illusions always have consequences. I bring these images of myself into my personal relationships. The problem with this is that these images are delusional. They are not real. And my friends are usually good about breaking these images down. When this happens, I often resort to irrational justification, and a lot of times it hurts my relationships; I end up saying hurtful things in a rash attempt to maintain these illusions.

Essentially, I throw pie at my friends because I think I'm a professional boxer. We all do it. So we should repent and find our identity in the truth that Jesus loves us.

Soren Kierkegaard's Reconstruction of Epistemology

Here is a short paper I wrote for Philosophy on Kierkegaard, which deals with several other voices as well on the topic of the relationship of faith and reason.

Soren Kierkegaard’s Reconstruction of Epistemology

            Soren Kierkegaard (1813-1855) was a Danish philosopher who –in the footsteps of Immanuel Kant- challenged the epistemological presuppositions of the enlightenment. Unlike Kant, however, Kierkegaard was an orthodox Christian and argued for the validity of orthodox doctrines such as the Incarnation through an existentialist lens. Kant had dealt an effective blow to the enlightenment’s optimism towards an epistemology built upon human reason (McGrath 220). But Kant’s blow also crippled any optimism towards the possibility of actually knowing absolute truth. Kierkegaard shows that Kant’s argument for the limit of human reason is precisely the impossibility which Christ the Incarnate teacher and teaching meets in his humanity and makes actual knowledge a possibility (Rose 46).

            Kierkegaard often wrote with pseudonyms, perhaps most notably the name “Johannes Climacus.” Since Kierkegaard himself was a Christian, he was able to write with the penname Climacus to develop a skeptical worldview which proved the limit of human reason alone. Climacus breaks down the Socratic notion that gaining knowledge is a matter of finding knowledge within oneself, that a teacher is one who assists the learner in finding the knowledge within himself; “the problem of acquiring and understanding the truth is purely epistemic, not existential” (Rose 40). Practically, this epistemology bears remarkable similarities to the self-confident epistemology of the enlightenment to which Kierkegaard responded. Kierkegaard brings Climacus to arrive at “The Absolute Paradox” - the Incarnation, the eternal within an historical event –an idea which a skeptic who is reliant upon human reason (like Climacus, and the students of the enlightenment) must reject. Tim Rose comments, “The Incarnation appears to be paradoxical, partly because Climacus does not understand it, and partly because he does not want to understand it” (Rose 59). In other words, Kierkegaard has demonstrated that human reason will arrive at the paradox of the Incarnation and reject it. “The paradox is composed in such a way that reason has no power at all to dissolve it in nonsense and prove that it is nonsense; no, it is a symbol, a riddle, a compounded riddle about which reason must say: I cannot solve it, it cannot be understood, but it does not follow thereby that it is nonsense” (“Journal and Papers” 7).

            Rose shows that Kierkegaard’s argument for the limit of human reason is consistent with several Christian thinkers before him, viz., Martin Luther, J.G. Hamann, and Blaise Pascal. For Luther, the Kingdom of Earth could also be described as the Kingdom of Reason. Human reason alone was entirely impotent to reach the Kingdom of Christ. Luther is careful to show the importance of reason within the context of the Kingdom of God working alongside faith, but like Kierkegaard, Luther asserted that reason had no power to achieve faith.

            Rose also points out the that ironically Hamann uses David Hume’s argument against Christianity to establish the legitimacy of Christianity: “What had for Hue made Christianity implausible, in Hamann’s eyes served to give it greater strength and credibility. Hamann therefore turned Hume’s critique on its head” (Rose 148). This method is similar to Kierkegaard’s approach. Kierkegaard articulates Climacus’ skepticism towards the paradox of the Incarnation precisely to show the miracle which stands above reason. Karl Barth, in step with Kierkegaard, similarly writes, “Without any possibility on our side God’s great possibility comes into view, making possible what is impossible from our side” (Barth 17). And Kevin Vanhoozer likewise uses this same method of turning a “critique on its head” in response to Jacques Derrida’s deconstruction. Derrida asserts that “the age of the sign is essentially theological,” which Vanhoozer takes up as precisely what legitimizes Christian theology (Vanhoozer). Kierkegaard’s method of building up a legitimate skeptic viewpoint and turning it on its head is a consistent historical pattern exemplified particularly in Hamann’s work, which, according to Rose, was a specific influence of Kierkegaard.

            Lastly, Rose demonstrates the similarities between Kierkegaard and Pascal. Pascal likewise argues that reason will reach a point in which man must depart from it in order to embrace faith. Pascal says, “reason’s last step is the recognition that there are an infinite number of things which are beyond it” (Pensées 83). Pascal also, consistent with Luther and Kierkegaard, asserts that reason has a particular function within Christianity: “Submission and use of reason; that is what makes true Christianity” (Pensées 83). Rose argues that Kierkegaard’s thoughts have remarkable similarities to these Christian thinkers “contrary to the frequent claims of his radical unconventionality” (Rose 144—152).

            For Kierkegaard, soteriology and sin are epistemological in nature. The rational autonomy of the enlightenment (and Socrates) functions to prove the depravity of man. The more man ascends intellectually the more he distances himself from the truth, as Climacus articulates, “Indeed, he must not even be a seeker… he has to be defined as being outside the truth (not coming towards it like a proselyte, but going away from it) or as untruth. He is, then, untruth” (“Fragments” 13-14). Climacus has established that the sin and impossibility of humanity is epistemological impossibility; he is completely unable to ascend to God, indeed, the more he ascends intellectually the more certainly he will be unable to reach God. If for Kierkegaard the nature of sin is fundamentally an epistemological impossibility, then soteriology is fundamentally an epistemological possibility created externally. Rose says, “There is therefore an intrinsic link between this subject and Kierkegaard’s soteriology, and it is impossible to separate these two topics in his thought” (Rose 45).

            Kierkegaard does not resist the blows of Kant, but rather lets the limits of reason be clearly shown in Climacus’ writings, and then rebuilds the legitimacy of Christian faith by pointing to the Incarnation of Jesus, the teacher and teaching. Salvation is not achieved through an intellectual ascent of man; it happens externally through the reality of the person and work of Godman Jesus, the revelation of God. 

Believing in Jesus: Thoughts on How to Fight Pride

"Ain't no killer like pride / no killer like "I" / no killer like what's inside" - Switchfoot

The biblical narrative seems to reveal sin as fundamentally born from selfishness and pride. Sin is to tell God, "I got this, I don't need you anymore..." or "I think I know how to live my life best."

In pride and selfishness, Adam and Eve chose their own way over God's way. In pride and selfishness, Cain killed Abel. In pride and selfishness, humanity attempted to build a tower to heaven. These all exemplify a rejection of God's way, a stepping outside of relationship with God, a turning our backs on God and doing things our own way. Mankind has been trying to build a tower to heaven ever since. We do this through visiting pornographic websites, through drunkenness, through cheating on tests, through stealing, through settling for crappy relationships, etc. These are all towers to heaven, a way around God's way to pleasure. And all of these are fueled by selfishness and pride. 

In the prophets, the vast variety of the sin and idolatry of the nations are summed up in their loftiness, pride, arrogance, haughtiness of heart, false boasts, etc. 

In the New Testament it is the pharisees who are the bad guys, not necessarily because of things we would describe as abominations, but because of their pride and self-righteousness. Because the pharisees are confident in their own righteousness, they pridefully reject the love of God poured out in Jesus. 

There is no sin that does not amount to a prideful rejection of the grace of Jesus. 

Jars of Clay describes the Christian life as "the battle between grace and pride" in their song "World's Apart." 

Time and time again Israel believes that they do not need Yahweh, and they turn to other sources of pleasure and security. In pride and selfishness, they believe that they are able to be sustained without the help of Yahweh. The process of sanctification and exile functions to humble Israel, so that they are freed from their pride and arrogance and return to Yahweh in humility.

Jonathan Edwards called pride God's greatest enemy. 

Pride is pervasive. It plagues our whole life. 

"I'm so filthy with my sin / I carry pride like a disease." 

And pride is impossible to overcome. Once we make any progress in humility we are immediately aware of it, then it's back to square one. 

How do we avoid this? Pride is impossible.

I feel frustrated and helpless when a time of pouring my heart out in joy to Jesus is quickly converted into the simple thought, "I bet people would really think I'm great if they realized how much I love Jesus..."

Pride surges through my mind as I write. My devotional times incessantly go back and forth between legitimately finding joy in Jesus and realizing this legitimacy, which ironically cripples the joy in self-centeredness. 

The truth is that I am just obsessed with myself. And whether or not I am secretly trying to convince you of my humility in this note is not the point. The point is that the statement is objectively true regardless of my subjective motivations. I am just obsessed with myself. Fact. 

However, it is also objectively true that Jesus still loves me.

Simply put, even if I am motivated by pride to proclaim how much Jesus loves me in spite of my pride, it is nevertheless still true that he loves me. 

And that's the only hope we have to ever overcome our pride. 

"Let my foolish pride forever let me down" - Switchfoot

Pride

I was at the Bi-Partisan Cafe one morning early enough so that there were only a few people there who were quietly studying. All of the sudden a taller man walked up to the counter and flung creamer at the barista, and shouted, "How's that for customer service? Never mess with a professional boxer!" And he stormed out of the cafe. Everyone - particularly the barista - was extremely confused. I just made one of those Jim Halpert "well... something awkward just happened..." faces and went back to writing my paper.

There are lots of people around MU's neighborhood who do ridiculous things like that. It's really not that out of the ordinary. Observing many such events, I have come to the conclusion that they are all symbolic of what is true about everyone, even Multnomah students, namely, that human beings are obsessed with themselves.

My professional boxer friend was seriously delusional. The thought that went through my mind (and probably everyone else's in the cafe) was, "Who does this guy think he is!" But I guess the answer is obvious. He thought he was a professional boxer. And like a character from Lewis's The Great Divorce, he believed he was entitled to his rights as a professional boxer, which apparently included the right to fling creamer at the Bi-Partisan barista when he was upset at his customer service.

Self-justification proceeds from pride and self-centeredness. Because we are so concerned with ourselves, we become desperate to save and preserve our image. The professional boxer flung creamer on the barista, and then announced to everyone in the coffee shop his self-justification. He was a professional boxer, and as we all know, professional boxers do that sort of thing.

When I condemn this man I condemn myself (Rom 2:1).

Sometimes I treat my friends pretty awful. Sometimes I gossip. Sometimes I lie. Sometimes I envy. Sometimes I put my friends down so that I look better than they do.

Why do I do these things?

Because I am desperate to preserve the delusional image I have in my head of Jesse Califf. Sometimes I think I'm a great guy. Sometimes I think I'm humble. Sometimes I think I am theological insightful. Sometimes I think I'm going to be the next Jonathan Edwards or John Piper or something. Sometimes I think I'm smart. Sometimes I think I'm a good writer.

Essentially, I fling creamer at my friends because I think I'm a professional boxer. And you do the same thing too. So read Romans 2.