Slices of God

We live with and fight over many opposing perspectives. From religion to politics, opinions are rigid and staunchly held as uniquely correct. Opposing views are thought of as misinformed, erroneous and even evil. How is it that we humans can use the same data, yet end up with such contradictory views? The answer might be found in a dimensional illustration.

For the purpose of our discussion, let’s pretend there are three major political groups: the circles, the squares, and the triangles. They argue incessantly over which of them has the correct set of political standards. The debates wage on. Unfortunately, none of them is willing to consider that the set of beliefs they cling to so vehemently may be but a shadow of a much more sophisticated object.

As you can see, the circle, the square, and the triangle are but shadows of an object more beautiful than any of the three independent shadows could imagine. What would happen if each of the three groups stopped to consider for a moment that the shadow they adhere to is cast from an object in a higher dimensional realm? Might they slowly begin to realize that they each hold tightly to lower dimensional shadows of the same entity?

Whether we are dealing with theology, philosophy, science, or politics, we humans gravitate toward less sophisticated and quite limited perspectives, sacrificing a much richer and more beautiful overarching perspective. Let’s put some meat on the issue.

One political group (let’s call them the Squarinians) argues that it is wrong to send adults to their death via war or execution, but it is OK to kill unborn babies via abortion. Another group (the Triangularians) argue that it is wrong to abort an unborn life, but it is OK to send adults to their death, since it is either an honorable loss or deserved consequence. I am not quite sure where the Circularians fit in.

One group may argue that we need less government, but promotes the elite to an economic monopoly over middle and lower classes. Another promotes a large governmental beast, but seeks to level out the economic playing field, caring for the less fortunate.

One group calls the other liars, cheats, and bigots. The other group calls the former liars, cheats, and bigots. Both are guilty for limiting their perspectives to weak and dying shadows. When the sun goes down, the higher dimensional object will still be there, waiting for us to stop stumbling in the dark while we seek our preferred shadows, and begin to seek and develop a higher dimensional common ground.

I am not offering a preferred lower dimensional political opinion. I am neither a Squarinian nor a Triangularian. I have often considered becoming a Circularian, but it too is limited. What is the solution? It begins by recognizing that none of us has the one and only correct perspective. None of us! We are too constrained by this limited realm to claim such an arrogant stance. Strangely, we need these diverse lower dimensional perspectives in order to assemble a view of the larger dimensional gem that casts the shadows. Did you get that? The Squarinians, the Triangularians, and the Circularians need each other!

This does not mean that each of the three shadows has no faults. The fact that they are each a lower dimensional shadow guarantees error! This is why the three must work at assembling a higher dimensional perspective. Therein the beauty and the faults are revealed.

So where do we go from here? The prophet Micah gave us a dimensional exhortation: “He has shown you, O mortal, what is good. And what does the Lord require of you? To act justly and to love mercy and to walk humbly with your God” (Micah 6:8). Notice the triune nature of the requirement. What is required of us? It is a dimensional requirement: to recognize that we need the triangle, the square, and the circle, and to converge them in unity.

A beautiful entity awaits our discovery!

– Sam Augsburger

My wife and I spent this past weekend visiting with, helping, and enjoying my father. He is 95 and his health is failing. As I gazed into his eyes I saw years of faithfulness to a calling he could not resist as a young man: ministry. He cared for the spiritual wellbeing of everyone he came in contact with. He still does.

After arriving home from the visit it occurred to me that he is an example of the very subject I write about: slices of God. Dad is a slice of God. He is not God, for he has a list of imperfections no shorter than ours. The difference is he has permitted God to access his being and use it as a channel for God’s spirit to flow to others, thereby becoming a representative slice of God (Romans 8:14-17).

Dad chose to live in grace. This is not an easy task. It acknowledges that each of us, though we are being regenerated by God’s grace, is still trapped in broken flesh in a broken world. Grace is something we choose to live into. And though our psyche throws brokenness in our faces daily, the choice is still ours. Dad chose grace. He still does.

Dad chose to walk by faith. I saw it as a boy. I see it now. In times of great need, Dad would say, “God will provide.” When times of indecision and uncertainty were upon us, Dad would turn in prayer to find guidance. He walked by faith. He still does.

Dad was thirsty for everything he could experience spiritually. He wholeheartedly sought to be full of the spirit of God. He wanted to be immersed in God. He still does.

Dad knew he could not accomplish great things on his own. When he sensed God calling him to evangelistic meetings, he responded with, “I can’t do that.” Then he heard a still small voice say, “I know, but I can do it through you.” When he sensed God calling him way out of his comfort zone to pray for healing for the sick, he responded with, “I can’t do that.” Again he heard God’s voice say, “Yes, but I can do it through you.” Dad relied on God for strength and power. He still does.

Dad practiced the presence of God. I vividly remember him on his knees early in the morning, entering into the presence of the Holy. He listened for the voice that had become so familiar. He lived in an awareness of God’s spirit flowing all around him. He still does.

Dad lived a life of servanthood. He carried a basin and towel, washing the feet of anyone in need. He would go out of the way for anyone, even if he knew his gift was being abused. I can remember his father doing the same. Dad followed in his footsteps. He still does.

Dad felt compassion for others. Even enemies. When he faced a threatening man with a knife at the front door, he spoke love to him instead of calling 911. Dad showed compassion for the directionless, the sick, the needy, and the lost. He lived a life of love. He still does.

My life has been graced by this man. So have many others. Thank you Dad for being a slice of God.

-Sam Augsburger

Paradoxes: one could spend a lifetime and beyond (assuming of course there is a beyond) attempting to resolve paradoxes and never make a single one disappear. We are plagued with discontinuities. We may come close to ridding ourselves of such paradoxes, but close is not good enough. G.K. Chesterton says in his biography of Saint Thomas Aquinas, “It is a fact that falsehood is never so false as when it is very nearly true.”[1] This may be the case with human attempts to resolve paradoxes.

Theologians and philosophers have argued over paradoxes for centuries, all the while failing to resolve them. My personal journey into accepting them began with Douglas Hofstadter’s Gödel, Escher, Bach: An Eternal Golden Braid. Close to the beginning of his monumental work he encourages the reader to “confront the apparent contradiction head-on, to savor it, to turn it over, to take it apart, to wallow in it,” so that the reader might gain fresh insights into this strange universe.[2] Hofstadter demonstrates that paradoxes are an integral part of the cosmos: Bach capitalized on paradox in his compositions; Escher in his sketches; and Gödel in his mathematical proofs.

I believe our motivation to resolve paradoxes is rooted in distaste for tension. While some of us are seemingly equipped to deal with tension, many of us work tirelessly to make it go away. In doing so we live a contradiction. Our bodies, for instance, would drop dead without structural tension. Biological homeostasis (the antagonistic pursuit of chemical balance) is our lifeline. Within the realm of music, there would be no stringed music without tension. There would be no kettledrums in the orchestra. There would be no overhead lighting in the concert hall.

Paradoxes abound and come in many shapes and sizes. One of the greatest paradoxes comes from our understanding of light. Physicists have puzzled over the behavior and nature of light for centuries. If studied under one set of circumstances, light reveals itself as a wave of electromagnetic character. If studied under another set of circumstances it portrays itself as a particle: a photon. These two qualities of light are contradictory, yet are the source of life on this rock we call Earth.

Religious texts are notorious for such paradoxes. In one text we find that truth will be hidden from the wise and revealed to babies![3] Perhaps truth is more simple than complex. In some texts we discover that if we want to live, we must die. To be the greatest, we must become the least. To keep anything, we must give it away. To hold on in desperation is to lose what is sacred.

G.K. Chesterton raised one such paradox with respect to issues of faith and mysticism: “The whole secret of mysticism is this: that man can understand everything by the help of what he does not understand. The morbid logician seeks to make everything lucid, and succeeds in making everything mysterious. The mystic allows one thing to be mysterious, and everything else becomes lucid.”[4] What do you seek? Comfort? Consolation? Escape from tension? No discontinuities? Understanding the complex? Many wise people have discovered that in order to make sense of our existence we must dive in and swim wholeheartedly in the waters of paradox. If we run from paradoxes we will most certainly end up coming round to meet up with them again and again. (Figure 1)

Figure 1. Running To & From Truth

So, whether we are running to or from paradox, we encounter truth eventually. It may, however, make the journey a bit more enjoyable if we choose to embrace paradox with courage and a resolve to understand as much as we can.

– Sam Augsburger

[1] G.K. Chesterton, St. Thomas Aquinas / St. Francis of Assisi (San Francisco: Ignatius Press, 2002), 85.

[2] Douglas R. Hofstadter, Gödel, Escher, Bach: An Eternal Golden Braid (New York: Basic Books, 1979), 26.

[3] Luke 10:21-22.

[4] G.K. Chesterton, Orthodoxy (Colorado Springs: WaterBrook Press, 2001), 32.

Slices of God? Are we dissecting God as though we were in a biology lab, looking for clues to the structure and function of the Supreme Being? No. Are we dicing God up into bite-size pieces we can handle? No, though that is appealing in some respects. Cutting God into slices implies that we think we have a complete view of God! The primary thesis of this book is precisely the opposite: we have nothing to work with but slices of God.

Can we adequately put such slices together, constructing a greater understanding of God? Unfortunately, our humanness often gets in the way. We efficiently equip ourselves to believe in and live with only a few slices: little fragments we assume are God. We have stared at these few slices of God for so long that our sense of their nature being anything other than slices has gradually diminished to nil.

We need a reconstruction process to piece together slices that, individually, have wrought discord, war, death, isolation, and even the abandonment of the God concept. What have we to lose? What have we to fear? Some may argue that such an attempt to reconstruct God is idolatry. I argue that holding a few slices up for the rest of the unenlightened world to worship is the epitome of idolatry. We worship finite pieces of God. If God exists, wouldn’t he want us to know more about who he, she, or it is?

MC Escher understood the concept of slices. In his Rind sketch he aptly illustrates the process I believe we need to employ. (Figure 1) One can clearly see he intended the rind to represent a person. However, if the rind were strewn on the kitchen counter, as if having just been removed from the fruit, it would not resemble the original image at all. Carefully arranging the rind portrays the entity it was removed from; not perfectly, but enough that we are able to “fill in the gaps.”

Figure 1. M.C. Escher’s “Rind” Copyright 2014 The M.C. Escher Company – The Netherlands. All rights reserved.

So, who or what diced the God concept up into slices in the first place? Who cut the rind from the fruit? While this will be addressed more fully in Phase 3, for now we may want to consider it our doing. We dice God into pieces with our need and insistence that God is tangible and reachable, consistent and complete: and on our terms. In doing so we end up with only fragments of slices of God.

Insisting that we have the real slices of God, and others do not, is what religion does best. It is a mistake, and in many cases a fatal one, to assume that peoples from other faiths and cultures have not seen slices of God. Stories abound from cultures and traditions around the world that include such slices.[1]

For far too long people of faith have argued over such slices, instead of embracing the mystery of the slices of God with joy. Because of our need to systematize slices into our version of order and consistency, we are forced both to be selective as to which slices we will use, and to venture into exhaustive explanations as to why we exclude inconsistent, paradoxical, and even contradictory slices, continuing down the road to a view of God that is not only a slice, but perhaps a slice of a slice. Even if we are so disciplined as to ignore our own preconceived ideas about who God is and have the ability to approach all evidences with an open mind, the process of weeding through the slices presented therein is tedious, complicated, and difficult.

We live in a cosmos comprised of estranged fragments, yet drift through physical and spiritual space convinced we are complete. The denial of our fragmented nature is in itself evidence of the problem. There is so much more to this life than the illusion that we see it all. Our desires for answers dictate so. We would not be burdened with such an assortment of wishes if there were not more to be had. C.S. Lewis addresses this conundrum well in Mere Christianity: “Creatures are not born with desires unless satisfaction for those desires exists.” Desires unfulfilled in this world point to an ultimate existence in another world.[2] Our desires are slices of more to come.

– Sam Augsburger

[1] I highly recommend reading Indian Spirit, by Michael Oren Fitzgerald. When I read it I weep for slices lost. When you read it you will see why.

[2] Lewis, Mere Christianity, 136-37.

I believe all beliefs are based on assumptions. Assumptions are primary building blocks in the formation of organized systems, including science, politics, philosophy, and religion. Of course that statement in and of itself is also an assumption. Assumptions are not necessarily bad, but important to identify. Yet even identifying assumptions utilizes assumptions.

As I was leaving the grocery store one day, an Arab couple, dressed in full Muslim attire, was exiting ahead of me. An elegant elderly woman right in front of me turned to me and said, “If they want to live in our country they could at least dress like us and talk like us!” Without giving it a second thought, I replied, “Ma’am, if you carry that logic to its natural conclusion, then you and I should be dressed like and speaking like Native Americans.” Surprisingly, she paused and then said, “Well, I guess you’re right.” She recognized her misguided assumption and its resulting narrow perspective.

While some assumptions are true, there are two common types of false assumptions: false negatives and false positives. A false negative assumes, for instance, that if a given type of event has not occurred in our small frame of reference, then it has never occurred anywhere. For example, if I, or anyone I know, have never witnessed a miracle, a false negative concludes that miracles do not happen. A false positive, on the other hand, assumes that if a given type of event has occurred in our frame of reference, it has always occurred in a similar fashion in all other frames of reference. If I have experienced a miracle, then miracles have always happened in all reference frames. Both can be misleading.

The God concept is based on sundry assumptions. So is the Not-God concept. To say either of the previous statements is not true is to cling to the assumption that one’s sources of truth are correct and unquestionable. Some theorize that the God concept is an outcome, or effect, of insufficiencies left behind by the natural selection process. To some, spirituality is all in our heads, the result of certain neural portions of the brain that create the spiritual realm. Of course such psychological assessments are also all in our heads. Perhaps the need to explain away the God concept is also a residual insufficiency of natural selection!

One of the arguments for the nonexistence of God is that it is inconsistent for God to make laws, then to break them in order to intervene. Though this once gave me cause for thought, I now find it a bit humorous. Physicists today do not even know all the laws of our universe, let alone adjacent universes that may or may not intersect ours. And we pretend to understand their laws? How could we possibly know how two or more sets of laws interact to define what is “consistent” or “inconsistent” within the cosmos?

Assumptions affect and are affected by psychological filters. None of us has an “unfiltered” image of God or Not-God. If we think we do, we are probably living under yet another illusory assumption. Take God’s gender for example.

Many theists believe God is male. Some base their beliefs on scriptural texts that use male terminology. Others have simply inherited a male filter. There are scriptural texts that open the door to other possibilities. One such text says that God is a father to the fatherless (Psalm 68:5). What then is God to the motherless? What is God to the childless? What is God to the spouseless? What is God to the friendless? What is God to the lifeless?

I believe God is far beyond our limited assumptions. On one hand, She laughs with us in our uncertainties and, on the other hand, It empathizes with our struggles. I believe God presents Himself mercifully in various forms: I firmly assume that God is all things to all people!

– Sam Augsburger

Quite some time ago a friend of mine was granted an interview with a major software company. The interview went very well and they offered him the job. To celebrate, a number of us went to the Seattle waterfront, ordered some fish and chips, and sat down to hear about the interview. My friend talked about the questions he faced in the interview. One question in particular caught my attention. The interviewer asked him, “Why are manhole covers round?” My friend replied succinctly, “Because it is the only shape that will not fall through its own hole.” The interviewer was very impressed. My friend launched a very successful career with the software company.

Later, I stewed over the question. Something about it bothered me. I couldn’t quite put a finger on it. Then it hit me (not the manhole cover)! There is a ledge that the cover rests on, and its opening is a bit smaller than the cover. However, the reason manhole covers do not fall through their own hole is not because they are round! What keeps them from falling through the hole is that the cover’s smallest diameter (or diagonal) is larger than the hole’s largest diameter/diagonal. It is not the only shape that will not fall through its own hole! It may be the most efficient shape, but not the only one. A better answer to the software company’s question may be, “Because we prefer more efficient round manhole covers.” There are numerous shapes that would suffice. They are not very efficient, having quite large rims for the covers to rest on, ensuring they do not fall through their own holes. But, they work.

The software company and my friend were right in that a round manhole cover will not fall through its own hole, but also wrong in that it is not the only shape that fits that criteria. The real reasons have to do with economy and ease of removing and replacing the cover. Surely one would not want to manufacture one of the covers in the above illustration. However, what I learned is that we too easily claim to know exactly why something is what it is without pursuing underlying principles that reveal deeper, more complete reasons.

Some theories are built on shreds of evidences to formulate “truth,” only to later be outdone by newer evidences. One such example pertains to theories developed on Neanderthal remains found in the mid 1800’s. In an anthropology class that I took during my college years the professor waxed eloquently on the physical, mental, and cultural characteristics of the Neanderthal. They were certainly bi-pedal, a separate, yet related species to humans, not very intelligent, probably communicated with grunts, having little to no speech, used very primitive techniques to survive, and walked hunched over. This was all presented as fact.

Well, much of this description has changed, thanks to the Neanderthal Genome Project, conducted by the Max Planck Institute for Evolutionary Anthropology and broadcast by NOVA in Neanderthals on Trial. The analyses of DNA samples of Neanderthal bones indicate that most of the previous claims were misled. They discovered that not only were the Neanderthals closely related to humans (cross breeding successfully with humans from Africa and other areas, leaving many of us with traces of Neanderthal DNA), but that they had substantial language centers in their brains.

I hope to be a person willing to uncover and consider things we know today that are built on fragments of information that, over decades of use, have become solid and unquestionable “truth.” And when new evidences surface, I am determined to not turn my head, close my eyes, or argue that it just cannot be so. I want to keep an open mind: evaluate the data, contemplate its ramifications, and exhibit a willingness to adapt my stance to account for the new information.

– Sam Augsburger

As a boy I was transfixed with All Is Vanity, an 1892 sketch by Charles Allan Gilbert. At first glance there is a woman beautifying herself in front of the vanity mirror. But by stepping back (or squinting) the larger picture tells a very different story. To a certain degree it reminds me of legalism. When viewed up close it gives the impression of being disciplined, working towards a goal, and following the right path. From a distance, or perhaps an eternal perspective, however, it may shrivel our spirit to the point of death.

What other perspectives are deadly illusions? There are some we hold onto with a vengeance, knowing we see reality. What about religion? How illusory is our understanding of God and how such beliefs are to be lived out? Is the belief in God’s existence one grand illusion? Is the belief in Not-God one such illusion?

Some theorists believe we, as a human race, “will evolve” out of these illusory tendencies. However, problematic questions arise from such claims. If evolution explains all, then why has it led us to a place where we must be enlightened so as to rid ourselves of religion? Why would natural selection lead us to religious formations in the first place?[1] It is quite an anomaly of natural selection that one of its outcomes would be to question its own efficiency in explaining the presence of mysticism and religion.

I am not the first to ponder this. Atheistic evolutionists have been addressing it for some time. Richard Dawkins, in The God Delusion, says, “Religion is so wasteful, so extravagant; and Darwinian selection habitually targets and eliminates waste.”[2] He acknowledges the tension between the assertion that natural selection should have gotten rid of religion, and the fact that it did not.

Richard Dawkins in The God Delusion and Eckhart Tolle in A New Earth expound on the virtues and elegance of the evolutionary process, that evil and a dualistic view of right and wrong are but temporary stages in a very elegant process. All this is said hoping to renew our trust in natural selection’s eventual overthrow of evil. But if evolution is as elegant as these theorists claim and if we are the products of such an efficient self-governing process, how is it that so few have been informed and the rest lack such knowledge? What inefficiencies in the evolutionary process have kept most of us out of the loop?

I believe it is a profound illusion to insist that we are in the process of evolving out of what religious peoples call evil, and will eventually arrive, even if it takes millennia, at a higher state, free from such inadequacies. First of all, nowhere in the evolutionary code is it written that we should ever know what we are going to evolve into. Knowing the outcome of the evolutionary process is contrary to natural selection itself! Secondly, how is it that these theorists have come to know what the best thing we could evolve into looks like? Where did they get the idea of good or better?

We do not know that we are going to evolve into something greater than our current state, one without evil. For all we know we will evolve into something far worse than we currently are.

Is the belief that we are going to evolve and rise above our current state an improvement over religious illusions? Or is it just another illusion? I have to admit that religions have wrought havoc over the millennia and one could argue that atheism is an improvement. Richard Dawkins seems to think so, pointing a finger at all the wars that have been waged in the “name of religion.” At the same time he also claims that no wars have been waged in the “name of atheism.”[3] I have heard claims to the contrary. In my lifetime alone wars have been waged by atheistic regimes with great devastation. Clearly, religion is not the only illusion with which we struggle.

Thomas Merton wrote, “We have become marvelous at self-delusion; all the more so, because we have gone to such trouble to convince ourselves of our own absolute infallibility.”[4] It seems that we need illusions to cope. We use them to rationalize away our ignorance. Jesus said, “He who says he has no sin lies.”[5] His words could be paraphrased, “He who says he has no self–deception is most self–deceived.” The worst of the worst of illusions is that we possess none!

We are enveloped by illusions of completeness, of consistency, of inerrancy, of absolutes, of clearly defined right and wrong. But if we live surrounded by so many illusions, how do we discern their presence in our lives? Where do we start? Perhaps we start at the very beginning.

– Sam Augsburger

[1] Though theorists, such as Richard Dawkins, attempt to address this question, their answers leave me empty and longing for more.

[2] Richard Dawkins, The God Delusion (New York: Houghton Mifflin Company, 2006), 163.

[3] Ibid., 278.

[4] Thomas Merton, The Seven Storey Mountain (Orlando: Harcourt, 1948), 224-25.

[5] 1 John 1:8-10.