Such a night as this...

I woke up. Grabbed a hot diet Coke and some No Doze. If that's any indication as to what sort of morning it is.... Praises of God fail. Curses rises up. Despair stands, oppressive, and, the smell of death, his unmistakable odor, is palpable. Garbage, nonsense, just all in your head. Say whatever you want, but, when you are told, it is time, something shifts. In my case, it was like a tectonic plate of sorrow and shame. Why shame, you might ask? I will leave, in my wake, a family of four. An amazing woman, the likes of which I have only met once on earth. Loving, gentle, courageous, fair, beautiful, inside and out, truly just and one of those rare souls you hear about, thinking, people this good don't really exists. Had I never seen her with my own two eyes, loved her with my heart, and, spent the past decade with here, I would never have believed her to be real. Too good to be true. Smart, funny, cute, sweet, precious, incomparable. President of her sorority, a natural born leader, a woman who turned down a successful future as a doctor to be a mother. The woman who always has THE right thing to say at THE right time. The anti-me. My complement, but, in a positive way, in all things.

How can I, a dying, sick man, unprepared to send her and our three children into the future after I am gone, sleep at peace knowing I never took time to care for her as I should have. We have a minuscule life insurance policy, a large portion of which will be swallowed by taxes. A 401k that will be gutted like a fish as market as soon as we touch it. Over the past few months we have been looking for houses to move into while we still have my salary. Yes, we are a single-income family in the day of double-incomes. We chose as parents to raise our kids as our treasure, not our bank accounts. And, yet, life had taken THE turn for the worst and insulted our brave, valiant choice to be noble be insult and injury. Money will more than likely be a plague for my family as has been for me my whole life. Never having enough. Never knowing what can be done to fend off that immediate fear of, "We just won't quite have enough." There are no television shows swooping into magically help us. We have the mercy and great kindnesses of strangers. Some through churches, others, though compassion, but, nothing, no shallow thread of what tattered hope I once stood so strong in brings me peace. God and his peace are long, distant memories.

I know not who or what He is. Until yesterday, I sat, in a quiet moment of thanks, feeling I had a few months to reflect, to cobble together some semblance of a belief in God again. I was going, as Karen put it, to wipe the slate clean, rebuilt my touch with God and see, with own, bare, bloody, wearied eyes, who this God I said I believed in so much really was any more. And, then, this. The reality check. Danette, our nurse, quietly, but, in a matter-of-fact tone, took Kerri aside and said, "Look, his marrow is gone. He is living on transfusions. And, they will start to fail. When that happens, it is only a matter of time." To write that, to literally type that, and, know, I feel no pain, no sickness, nothing other than a mild tooth ache. Surreal lost its meaning years ago. How care how surreal it is. It is insulting. It is like the rape of the mind and soul and spirit. I hear you are alive, and, just like that, will no longer be. We cannot tell you when this thief will come. Nor, can we tell you what its assault will be like. Only that, when it is said and done, so too will you.

I stop, reflecting. In my office, my walls are lined with books of computers, ideas, literature, philosophy. All these grand things, ideas, pursuits, hopes dreams, things I wanted to become, to achieve and pursue. And, now, when I look at them, I see wasted money fruitless pursuits. Vanity and anger. Loss, depravity and a mockery I made of myself. Musical instruments hang on my wall. Literally, just yesterday, I contacted the worship team at church to see about joining up. Now, I have to backtrack and tell them, "Sorry, I was dying slowly before and thought I had time. The clock suddenly accelerated, like one of those horror scenes in sci-fi movie, where the nuclear bomb's timer goes from counting hours to seconds with one wrong snip of a wire." Once again, my hope and optimism have made me take actions to come across as the unwitting fool. Who was I to think I could go worship this God I, for who knows what reason, I proclaim to love. The one who finally brought me, after a lifetime of alienation, oddity, weirdness, despair and being lost to a place I finally felt at home. And, in a split second, to take it all away. Where, my friends, is that worship song! I haven't heard that one played anywhere, ever.

I try, try and try to lift myself up by my boostraps, but, every time I do, I break a finger, tear a ligament, bust my nose, rip my pants, make a laughing stock of myself, my family, this so-called God and all that I supposedly stand for along the way. So, I begin to wonder, "Why stand?" I am not going to stop living. I am not suicidal. I just wonder, "Why try?" God not only seems to NOT care, he seems to WANT to make sure my efforts at standing firm him are, one by one, hope by hope, dream by dream, destroyed. I have no desire to do or be anything for Him. Honestly, all I have ever wanted to with serve him. First we move to Dallas to help out with a ministry, only, due to new job, ANYTHING I DO EXCEPT but work with ministry. It has been, since we moved here in 2005 like a giant, glass dome has fallen over the CITY and all its spiritual ministries. I have, in the years I have been here to do something with God. At first it frustrated me. Then, it really frustrated.

Three years into this journey. I quit. The dreams, miracles, vision, prayers, the conferences, prophets, apostles. Spiritual people to the hilt. Those doing, as John Wimber called it, the work. I lost faith, not only that they were still alive and vital, but, that I was to have anything to do with them. I reached out, only to be rebuffed an ignored. That was almost 4 years ago. After getting diagnosed I returned more on fire. Desperate. My banner was that this disease was merely God's way to teaching, from A to Z, about healing. I prayed. I fasted. I scarified. We went into $20,000 worth of debut pursuing alternative medicine. I tried eastern medicine. Western medicine. Drugs. Radical surgeries. And, by radical, I mean, I am 17-hour, every organ in my abdominal cavity removed, scoured for tumors, 1/3rd of my tumor resected, no spleen or gall bladder, 90 minute heated chemotherapy wash across my entire interperotenal region radical. Two major complications, and a month and a half later, and, Kerri and I limped home in our little $1,000 Honda home. Shortly after that, three more rounds of chemo, a broken right leg, in the hospital puking first and morphine, getting railed by kidney doctors for not doing dialysis.

All this, and, I stand, working, somehow, not very effectively, less and less able to keep a clarity. my thought less coherent. I promised my friend, and, manager Jeff, when I felt I was a liability to the team I would step down. Running the risk of not only damaging my own career but that of my teammate is not only irresponsible but wrong. When that day came, I promised myself and him I would step down. Well, it has come. I wish I had more to give, but, this is it. I cherish their friendship too much, and, respect them as individuals much to much to let me desire to "hang on" cause them, to cause our product, to cause our company problems. I am the weak link, and, I stepping down. I so wish it was not the case. I have finally found something I really and truly love to do. Perhaps I can consult, do odd jobs, scripts, tasks, random things. But, right now, there is this one project, a conversion of over 3.5 million files. I've never done anything that large, much less by myself. As I start ailing physically and presumably mentally, I am in my position to be a risk to my company. I think God, my team mates, managers and all those involved who have allowed me to continue to help in spite of my health. I told them, when all this was said and done, I was hoping this whole thing would be one giant lesson in healing. Well, I guess it has turned out differently than I expected and I need to give those who have supported me the honor and respect they deserve for standing with me through all of this. So, for those have been with through all this, "Thank you." I have no ability to share how much and how deeply the support of those who have been with me through this has meant. It truly does transcend words.

More to come later. I am in like 100,000 mile an hour mode and have to get the kids ready for school. What a way to start the day. And, it's only, let's see...dawn.

The dangers of reasonableness

In the spirit of the past couple of explanatory posts I want to touch on some basic terms and why I think they are important. Many of my concepts, at least the ones I really think are worth listening too, stem from thinking similar to the work of an American expatriate, Francis Schaeffer. Although Schaeffer's work is not as popular as it was in previous decades, his straightforward, succinct arguments proved to be a style I really took a liking to. My first introduction to his work was through the deceptively slim volume Escape from Reason. In this book, large, complex philosophical topics were discussed in shockingly precise, simple terms which honored the full spirit and technical meaning of the ideas. For an author to attempt a feat is rare in small books, especially books attempting to cover that large an historical date range.

Schaeffer really goes after it in some of his titles and it shows. One example, from Escape from Reason, is the use of a prolonged metaphor of nature. Having seen him attempt to capture some extremely big ideas and succeed invited me to try, to a lesser degree, to write about a few of my own topics. For example, returning to my own blog's three themes, faith, rationality, and, the unknown, I would like to touch for a moment on my personal take on one of these works: rationality. The word ratio comes from Latin. It can be seen here,

http://www.etymonline.com/index.php?term=ratio&allowed_in_frame=0

and it rose in the usage listed below starting in 1630,

1630s, "reason, rationale," from L. ratio "reckoning, calculation, business affair, procedure," also "reason," from rat-, pp. stem of reri "to reckon, calculate," also "think" (see reason). Mathematical sense is attested from 1660.

In reviewing the etymology for ratio more closely, I see a meaningful correlation between the third meaning,

early 13c., "statement in an argument," also "intellectual faculty that adopts actions to ends," from Anglo-Fr. resoun, O.Fr. raison, from L. rationem (nom. ratio) "reckoning, understanding, motive, cause," from ratus, pp. of reri "to reckon, think," from PIE root *re(i)- "to reason, count" (cf. O.E. rædan "to advise; see read). Meaning "sanity" is recorded from, late 14c. Phrase it stands to reason is from 1630s. Age of Reason "the Enlightenment" is first recorded 1794, as the title of Tom Paine's book.

In fact, one, "to reason, count", hits the nail right on the head. Now, before I dig into it too far from the angle of "to reason, count", I want to say that many of the terms apply to me at other times. But, as for this one term it really zeroes in on a key usage of them term as I want to emphasize it.

Going back earlier to philosophy, however, I see a curious phenomenon. For example, Newton's use of ratio was to measure. As I am fond of quoting, "One is not engineering if they are not measuring." "Why is this important?" you might ask. Platonic philosophy has a major root itself in Pythagoreanism. Yes, that Pythagoras. Why the obscure philosophical footnote? When Platonism, and, later, rationalism, sought to universalize truth as a quantifiable substance, this proved to be a major, revolution in philosophy. Why? Because numbers carried with them remnants of the Egyptian priestly caste's mystical roots. Numbers, as it were, possessed, in and of themselves, a sort of transcendental power previously reserved in other faiths for other entities and other entities along. For example, in Judeo-Christian faiths, goodness was a divine attribute of God and God alone. When pythagoreanism sought to overthrow the theistic model of a divine God and a divine order based on that God with a naturalistic model based in the transcendental nature of quantity and numbers.

Now, I recognize that was a lot of heavy conceptual stuff, but, even in today's science, whose roots can be traced back to the pythaogreanism. Let's take an idea we can examine from both a Biblical and pythagoreanism. The majesty of God can be seen in a divine characteristic of nature: the paradoxical unfathomability of who God is. For instance, when Christians look at something like an unfathomable truth, it glorifies God. Because we are limited and recognize the unlimitedess of God, we can conclude God is of an entirely different spiritual order of being. In this sense, nature proves God's greatness because it demonstrates our limitedness. We intuitively recognize, for instance, that God can, with his power, known the depths of an abyss and, in simple terms, demonstrate such knowledge, whereas we humans, when we attempt to conceptualize, or, more rashly, understand and conceive, of such a truth, perhaps imagining lines measured in miles, from one point to the next, and, after some point in time, failing to realized, we as humans simply cannot know this.

In reality, we stand, measuring, reasoning, reckoning, trying to grapple with how great He is and, the truth is, we can't. There are questions of which we can conceive, for instance, how large is your love Lord, and, if He tried to provide some physical analogy, like my love for you is infinite, our human minds cannot get around this. It is this, the fundamental inability of human reason, to grasp the magnitude of God, his ways, his love, his nature and being, that make reason itself a poor human trait upon which to hinge our estimation of God. Another way of putting it is to focus on what reason, as used popularly in human thought, works to do. Reason measures, reason analyzes, and, reason tries to quantify truth. But, there are some things which are not meant to be measured, analyzed or quantified. Love is not a number. Grace is not a thing best understood in bar charts and graphical models.

Reason is, by many a man, held to be the highest human virtue we can possess. Yet, I contend that reason, because it attempts to transform the invisible into something tangible, is an inferior pinnacle. If you have to reduce one thing to something else in order for it to be the best you can have, it cannot be the highest form attainable. The problem is that there are things which cannot be known, which cannot be fathomed, and, which do not yield to man's powers and this belittles us, it reminds us of our place in the universe. Many would rather create this false distinction between the reality, there is more than us which we cannot control or grasp, and, that scares us. And, yet, some accept what is greater than man at face value and live with the more honest stance that our knowledge, power and place in the grand scheme of things is limited.

Sure, this mystical attempt to reduce the universe to a set of characters, as used by language, whether that is ordinary spoken language, or, the more abstruse languages of science and math, is noble. We are attempting to take this universal experience, life in the cosmos, the unknown and the wholly unknowable, and, put it down into codified symbols so we can prove to each other, we really are seeing what we see. Yet, is it necessary that we have proof of life when to demonstrate it we must in fact be alive in the first place? Why do we dread that feared concept, the unreasonable, so much? Death, love, life, all the great mysteries that make being worth experiencing would somehow be lost in the codification of truth known as reasoning. Beyond reason is a place of reality that approximations, ideas, and, understandings with which our minds cannot contend. Pure life, as it is living, is unreasonable, irrational, and, the premise that reason is in fact the greatest measure of man is merely a control mechanism people try to put on each other.

When we fail in our reasonings. When we cannot fully explain, that is, put into words, something, it gives people an opportunity to swoop in and take advantage of our "inferior" intellects. The constant war for meaning and importance rages on, and, knowledge--with our pursuit for the power it promises to give control over others--beckons us forth. We stand, together, ashamed at our powerlessness and utter dark truths, realities and bold declarations of what is, was, and, will be, hoping that our utterance, our mark on the universe, will make us stand out. That it will someone differentiate us as ones more understanding, more in control, more powerful, in the ways that matter. This, I fear, is the dark side of reason: a way for men and women to rank and order each other, even if only in their own minds, so as to create an unnatural form of order, ambivalent of truth and built on artificial grounds.

Counting, ordering, organizing, ranking, and, defining are not supernatural truths, although, at times, supernatural functions of being mandate the mind and reason be used. However, when reason, used as a means to dehumanize people into orders of things, and, to rob life of its raw, visceral power, is seen for what it was meant to be, a way to observe and study life, its original nature does not seem so mechanical and lifeless. In my mind I see reason, as it used today, as a clinical instrument, a tool meant to attempt to grab raw life and put it in a jar for study, reflection and observation. Sadly, this is not what life is. Life is meant to be lived, not analyzed, broken down into particles and reduced to lesser truths. Something is lost in the translation from reality to concept, from truth to idea.

In today's world, it would seem, reason has replaced real inquiry and dialogue with objectification and computation. Although there has been a shift in the highest ranks of physics talk from Newtonian billiard ball mechanics to Einstein's world of endless shape-shifting forms, there has not been a similar movement in other areas of inquiry. In fact, the methods of inquiry used by the sciences hundreds of years ago proved to be so effective people temporarily suspended the theological divide between the domain of God and the domain of creation as if it were all the subject of science. Sadly, many people are erroneously conducting theology, more in the informal arenas of their own personal lives, as scientists than theologians. Holiness, awe and reverence have been substituted for rationality, practicality and pragmatism.

What good, it now seems, is the goodness of God if it cannot be defined? What is love if we cannot map it to a biochemical model of human being? How valid is truth if it cannot withstand the rigors of prepositional logic? The cart has been put before the horse and reason is now the God of man. Whereas truth once prevailed, even with its humbling realism and the inevitable frailty of mankind being made known immediately upon beginning the search for truth, reason presupposes, and, forces with its supposition, the arrogance of man. Results are determined valid only before the inquiry is started and the measure of man is in a way the mirror. What we deem true must meet criteria before we can actually start exploring and that sort of pre-fabricated exploration of reality, where the destination is known from the first step, can never foster real understanding. For, there are truths reason cannot grasp. There are ways man cannot know in this mortal shell. And, there are reasons which divine law prevents us from ever seeing this side of death.

I face death. Reason cannot tell me, no matter how hard I try, what lies on the other side of that great chasm. There are countless myths, poems, symbols, and, allegories indicating this. But, unable to live with our frailty, people have robbed life of its mysterious unreasonableness and chosen to throw away the key to truth. Such a transformation, from thinkers as mystic explorers at one time to android machines in the present, leaves me with a bitter taste in my mouth. Reason I must at times, for making sense is the job of the philosopher. But, as all honest men and women must do, I have to, at certain crossroads, admit, even I, for all my preparedness, all my maps and gear, cannot always see or know what it is I face. Death, being my most recent enemy combatant reason demands that I be honest yet again. I could pretend like I have all the answers and give myself the thin blanket of delusion for the sake of temporary peace of mind. I, rather, chose to live, as God made me, unable to reason myself out of this one. God, help me to find that greater function of which reason is but a shadow and for which truth is the natural language.

Belonging and life without it

Rather than my usual idea-laden post, I will only dip my toes into the deep waters for a second, but, touch the rest of the time on a little "life as it is today". The past two weeks have really been a blur. No, this isn't just the busyness that has come about because of introducing hospice, beginning (again) to work from home full time, and, school starting up. Those things are all grounds enough to keep us on our toes. But, as a part of trying to find that seemingly mystical line between medicated-but-functional and nacroleptic-but-at-my-desk I have really been going back and forth on my medications a lot and it has messed up my sense of time a good bit.

The main medication I use for pain management is something called dilaudid. As I learned recently, it's basically opium. Now, I am not a fan of the opiods because I think, with me, addiction could be a real, potential issue. I was reminded of this the other day. I had been scheduled to get (and been getting delayed from) a transfusion. Monday was labs, and, it was late Wednesday afternoon before all the confusion (or incompentence on one person's part) had been resolved. As I got ready to leave and drive down--it takes about 30 minutes in decent traffic to get to what we call big Baylor downtown from the house--I felt okay. Within 5 minutes of leaving the house one of these fits I had been having where I literally get so tired I canno keep my eyes open kicked in. After stopping to get something to eat I debated on whether to tempt fate and drive in spite of my condition. Thankfully, what two firing brain cells I had still working fired and I called Kerri to see if she could drive me down.

After picking me up we left. I threw up in the car, which I never do, unless I'm sick (very, very rare) or on chemo (which I have been off of for almost 11 months now). Either way, something else was going on. When we got there I started to feel better, but, in general, I felt horrible, couldn't keep my eyes open, was literally falling asleep at the keyboard. Just, nothing good. I was really worried my disease was progressing A LOT faster than everyone thought. And, then it hit me, the sweats, the bouts of fatigue, the out of it sensation.  Ah, the dilaudid. I had been incrementally uping the doses. I was drugging myself to sleep. So, I vowed not to take any more. Voila, the next day, I was an achy dude, but, only got a little tired in the morning...which, with as much drugs as I had been taking, would not have surprised me. I seem to get tiny packets of this stuff stored in fat reserves, and, I'll hit one of these and basically, I'm dosed up again without actually having had taken any medication. Yay, the funs of drugs and daily life.

So, with my main problem identified, I met with a pain management specialist from up here. Time for a little rabbit trail. I consider myself to be a reasonably bright person. Not a genius most of the time but sparkling moments on occasion. And, not an idiot with bouts of stupidity from time to time to make me wonder. But, capable of recognizing smart people. The pain management doctor showed up after much fanfare was made about him. The nurses seem to be like groupies with regards to this guy. They get all excited and call each other to come bask at his presentation. I kind of cracked up watching this dynamic having seen the "brilliance effect" before. Nonetheless, I figured, hey, I can get some help from a good doctor and maybe have a good conversation along the way. I don't get real, deep conversations a lot. Most people either can't or won't engage in them, and, when they come along I cherish those moments.

With that anticipation in mind I went into the conversation with a keen awareness of this one little observation I have made over time: really smart people come in two types: 1) those with whom you can truly interact, and, have real conversations. There is dialogue, interchange of ideas, collaborative thinking, and, imagining. and 2) those for whom you are a part in their reality and they just put on their "show". The show I refer to here is whatever this person is brilliant at. If it is science, you learn science not from interacting with and sharing ideas. You learn from them by just being around them and watching them do their presentation. They don't share. They perform. Now, I recall hearing that 2 years play along side each other not together. They may appear to play together, but, it is not really interaction, but, more just being present in the same space. The whole thing here is that when you meet a smart person, you are either a person or a thing. There rarely seems to be a crossing between these two worlds. And, I have little tolerance for smart people who like to perform. I have more important things to do with my life, especially now, than to watch you do a song and dance.

Well, it took me about 5 minutes to realize this guy had a show to perform. The funny thing was he actually had a part in the show where he stopped and talked about how he was here to learn from me, the patient, and, it was really our show where they were there to learn from him. I had to give it to him. It was a well-done presentation. It even had the trappings of humility, but, it was just a part of the show. At any rate, I tried to actually interact with him and there was no real dialog. I would try to interject, but, the thing is, I had to have the right answer to the question for the show to go on. If I didn't answer correctly, he would answer his own question as needed and move on. Again, I watched the display of human nature in action. It astounds me at times. Honestly, I would rather I were wrong about smart people. I wish they all truly thought of others as others. I just see it all too often. I have to be honest with myself and realize that what I am looking for is a rare combination of traits and I shouldn't expect to see it that often. And, as I said earlier, I am very thankful for those relationships where I can find someone to share ideas with.

The last notable thing has to with my general sense of what's going on. As has been the case for some time now, no one really knows how long I have. In a sense, I am like everyone else in the world. I am dying. But, then, so aren't we all? My challenge is living with disease. Knowing I do not have "unlimited" time and energy I live with the awareness that I am neither blissfully unaware of this mortality that plagues us all nor am I am the cyclops clearly able to see my day of death approaching. It is as if this dark shadow has been released into my life. I look at all things with a slightly dimmed perspective. This morning, while lying in bed, I realized, had I not been sick, I'd probably have been up at 5:30 running some 90-120 minute workout getting ready for a fall racing series. Without thinking much about it I could loosely envision what part of my training season I would be in. How I would have felt from my workout. What sort of times I would have run. How the weather would have felt on my skin. Et cetera. Et cetera. Et cetera. And, in reality, I lied in bed.

Is it this stark contrast of the alternate, imagined reality I live in my head--a world in which I had no cancer and life had continued on its merry way--I have this reality, the one I inhabit. With those opaque orange bottles and white tops. Sweat from drugs. Huge holes in my days and weeks spent talking to people I have no desire to see or know. The inability to play with my kids. The slow letting go of hopes and dreams. The constant restraint I have to exert in life when it comes to my willingness to join things I would enjoy, but, know, in the back of my head, I could never have the energy to truly partake in. This so called life I inhabit is one I do not know how to call home or in which I belong. In my alternate reality, I finally felt a sense of belonging. I had come to peace with who I was, what I did and life in general. Now, I neither belong among the living, for theirs is a limitless world, nor the truly dying, for theirs is but a singularity, focused entirely on an end. No, I am a man of limited means. One who belongs neither here nor there. And, in this place, I know not who I am or how to belong.

What is it in us that seeks belonging? Why do we need to feel at home? I know Jesus tells us we live in the world but are not of it. This, however, speaks to a different point than the one I struggle with at the moment. I see life very confused and am lost in my response to life. I have vowed to not let death or dying stop me from living. In the process of discovering what the means, however, I keep coming to dilemmas, paradoxes, crossroads, and, questions. Some of these are unanswerable. Some can only be answered by God, either on this side of the dissolution of being and others on that side when we are with Him in fullness. Either way, the regularly scheduled visits of uncertainty, confusion, and, puzzlement is not like one from normal life, perhaps something you may encounter in intellectual puzzle or everyday life. These carry with them a different weight and swagger. It is this weird authority, this weird stance such questions take I do not know how to contend with yet. In seeking answers, that is, resolution, familiarity, and, the secret handshakes of understanding that come with having warred in an amicable way, there is an end to be met. In my world, ends seems unfinable and that, I believe, is the root of my unbelonging. When in a strangeland no one tells you the rules and you must invent your own, how would you define belonging? Or, would you even try?

There is that temptation to push back to the world of the known, the familiar. In being bound by disease, that never goes far. And, a darker temptation, one I am not drawn to, to go down the darker roads, the ones that end with no more life, sits at the other edge of the crossroads. So, you grow weary standing in a place. The light is seemingly half lit. You have no candles, flashlights, visitors with torches or anything to change the landscape into something more known and familiar. You bump into things with eyes dimly lit and focus weak and never truly adjusting. This is the life of being between worlds. No angels of light have come for you to whisk you  away to a greater place and the landscape around you, with all its unknowns, unfamiliarities and hiddenness, never warms enough to give you that comforting sense, the peace of mind and satisfaction with knowing the lay of the land you knew before. Instead, you must live, every moment of every day, in the shadows, accepting if you are to find any peace at all, this place may not be one of belonging and you will never feel at home. For we are light and life and darkness is not a place for us, not a place for me. Lord, help me know what to do with this so called need to belong where I am. In this place you have me, I do not see the compromise or the mixture of temporary solutions I can fit for myself to rename my so-called life as one which has a sense of purpose and place. Indeed, perhaps it is you who makes me feel I do not belong, and, rightfully so. With that, Lord, I need your help.

I shall not die but live and declare the works of the Lord

Last year we received a book called Prayer Passport to Crush Oppression by Dr. Daniel Olukoya. In one section titled "Dismantaling Cancer" there is a prayer, "I shall not die but live to declare the works of God, in Jesus' name." That, my friends, is my plan. Science has said it has nothing left. Food cannot save me. There is no medical miracle yet to try. It is time for us to declare God is the one who gave me life and he is the only one who can declare when it is over. I have been sitting for weeks depressed and angered at this second diagnosis because I am not a man done with life no matter what my body says or what science predicts. There is still work to be done. And, my brother in Christ, Dr. Stephen Sesi, from Kenya, held this same verse, Psalm 118:17 in his heart, "I will not die, but I will live and tell what the LORD has done." Lord, I repent for not taking the authority you have given me. Sitting around, waiting to die felt like a blanket of shame and despair. And, my friends, it was. I have stood up, thrown off this blanket, and, I am not moving into my name's meaning, "Resolute protector". I have allowed the subtle, powerful arguments of science to manipulate my mind into standing next to them in agreement. I will not stand, letting God's power be robbed any longer. Science, you say you have nothing you can do. Well, Lord Jesus Christ, I pray, show forth your power and reveal to the world today, the world under the spell of science and medicine, that you Lord are the Divine Healer. God, you are the giver and taker of life. I had been led to forget and forsake these truths. And, I pray my brothers and sisters will stand with me as we make a stand to see God restore one cursed by science unto death. God, I do not know what you will do or how you will do it, but, I know you are faithful, all-powerful, and, real. Lord Jesus, send your Holy Spirit to unite the hearts and minds of men, women, children and families around the world. Let us declare great works oh God, not that I, Will Steele will be honored, but, that your righteous and holy name shall be shown as great and glorious. If you my brothers and sisters want to stand with us in this journey, we will lift up prayers in coordinated efforts and the unity of the Holy Spirit. Send prayers, words, dreams, visions, and, other divine revelations to will.steele@live.com so that we can have sages, prophets and prayer warriors lift them up to offer them to God that His Will may be done. God, I refuse to accept the words of man. God, I shall stand for nothing short of your words from this day forth. May a line in time be drawn and may the great power of Jesus Christ shine forth as it did in days of old.

What is this blog about?

Taking another step back, I feel it is important to explain why I chose the title of this blog: Faith, Rationality and the Unknown. Early in high school I encountered the first of what would ultimately be many philosophy and theology books that follow a somewhat clever, but, extremely obvious pattern. In philosophy, many folks explore a single concept, or, maybe, two concepts in a book all by themselves. The concept was to take two seemingly unrelated concepts, and, explore the ideas, by themselves, and, then, the relationship of the two ideas to each other. This way, folks could take two major philosophical (or theological) themes, much as composer might, and, write themes, variations, fugues, concertos, etc, on the ideas as if they were symphonic pieces.

Some such title are Being and Time, Being and Nothingness, Being and Event, Totality and Infinity and Hope and History. The whole idea is to take two ideas and study them from every angle you can to exhaust any insight or information you can from them before, theoretically, moving onto some new idea (or ideas). In my case, I decided to shoot for three themes, or, if you do the math, six. So, we have this fundamental set of ideas to explore:

1. faith
2. rationality
3. the unknown
4. faith and rationality
5. faith and the unknown
6. rationality and the unknown
7. faith, rationality and the unknown

It may sound, dry, boring and dull, but, I look at a list like that and get excited. I see ideas, journeys, explorations yet to be had. With three main themes, and, all their interrelationships, exploring all of the aspects of each concept and its interrelated connections could take years. This blog was meant to be a sounding board as I wrestle with some of the key concepts. I don't have any specific goal in mind. That is to say, there is no central point I am hoping to prove. No key thesis I hope to establish. This is not an academic exercise. It's the mental wanderings of a dying man. Many of the real world struggles I have to process in order to deal with my own death fall very easily under the umbrellas of any of these topics. Hopefully, as I process these various topics I provide a framework for others to deal with other issues in a meaningful way. Perhaps, if nothing else, my musings can serve as the ground work for some new tools meant to work with complex, if not, impossible tasks. I know sometime the unlikeliest of work can lead to new research later.  Although it is a bit ambitious, I hope, in the back of my mind, these writings can truly serve others by giving the ideas, discussions, logical approaches to topic not yet covered, at least, not in this method.

So, when I ask myself, "What is this blog about?" my answer is, "this blog is a place for consideration of the strengths and weaknesses of faith, rationality and the unknown, as central ideas in grappling with mortality and being." In reality, that is, back here on earth, away from the ivory tower, I use these ideals try and, as one philosopher said of what philosophy is all about, make sense of things. In this case, I am trying to make sense of what seems to be my fate: death resulting from incurable cancer. As a Christian who exercised, followed the law, didn't abuse my body and actively put Christ first, I find my situation absolutely mystifying. Basic, obvious questions are the foundation of my search for truth. Why, God, are you allowing this to happen? What good could possibly come from this? In short, that is the essence of what the blog is about. I could go on, but, I think have addressed the main question and will save up the rest of my ideas for other posts.

A little context to the story

I feel as if I have set an unfair standard for anyone reading my blog. Most folks know me a bit, but, don't really know my background, so, I thought it would only be fair to put a little of my background to help contextualize my ideas and ramblings. Although undergrad degrees don't necessarily mean anything, in my case it does help tell some of the story. When I was in 7th grade I started reading, and, reading heavily. I began reading Kierkegaard, Kant, and, Nietschze. Now, to be fair, I was reading them. Not understanding. But, even though I was too young and too underdeveloped intellectually to get what these great minds were talking about and dealing with I kept at it. Ultimately, I branched into math, literature, religion and art. Nonetheless, most of what I read really escaped me.

When I got into college I started focusing on math, but, ended upon passing through literature as a major, then, finally settled on Religion and Philosophy with a minor in English. In my case, the degrees really were just pieces of paper. What ideas I was exposed to is what really mattered. I really enjoying wrestling with heavy ideas, tracing complex relationships, and, writing about it. Granted, that was 15 years ago, but, even though the topics are much closer to home, and, the conclusions really involve life and death, my draw to these sorts of questions still is strong.

So, I want people to understand, when I write these blog posts, part of it is real, unfiltered thought, where I am exploring the connections between my feelings, and, questions that arise. At the same time, my philosophy background kicks in when I wrestle with this stuff. I still sort it, parse and organize. That is, I do all the routine mental tasks to create a well-structured, thought out answer to the question. Systematic thinking and well-organized approaches to try and find truth. I think of it as a doctor preparing for surgery. Are all my surgical tools present? Check? Am I scrubbed in? Are my nurses present? There are steps to be taken, even in my own mental ramblings, just because of my make up. After reading a 1,000 books along those lines, I have gotten used to doing things a certain way. And, it's important people are aware of this as they read my posts.

I don't know where things are going, but, as I strive for answers I try to use the best approaches I can. Exactly what I hope to find? I don't know. Heck, in all of this, there is a lot I don't know. That's one of the key points of the blog: faith, rationality, and, the unknown. In this case, there are so many unknowns, it's virtually impossible to determine how many are in play here. The key is that in so many of my explorations focus, whether directly or circumstantially, the unknown is always somewhere in the discussion. It's in the form of death, or hypotheticals, or, concepts with too many questions to answer. As I write, there will be ups and down, uncertainties, but, the constants will be, as the blog is titled: 1) faith 2) rationality and 3) the unknown. Hopefully I will be able to share something that helps others, and, this post will give some framework with which to make sense of my posts. If nothing else, it may help explain why I focus so much on the "big questions".

While I recognize, as a basic assumption of this blog, there are some questions that cannot be answered, I still think wrestling with the ideas can be meaningful. If nothing else, it can spur on new discussion and lead to new connections between ideas. But, I have to be honest: I know there are questions that will not be answerable, will not make sense, and, will not build faith. Hopefully, if I run into questions like this, I can be upfront and tell folks when my wrestling with a question is more to help give some background or to put some context to another set of ideas. So, if you see something that is completely absurd, please give me a chance to resolve it from place of tension in the melody of ideas. In the end, my conclusions are what will matter, not my starting points or the paths by which I reach my endpoints.

Real Theology

A few years ago, some time after I had been diagnosed, I found myself pondering what real faith and theology were. I confess, theology, and, my real passion, philosophy, sound, at best, like guilty pleasures for brainy believers. No matter what anyone said, I have never been able to rationalize theology and philosophy as spiritual callings. I am sure hundreds of thousands, if not more, would argue with me. But, to those that may feel insulted by claim theology is not a spiritual calling, I simply ask, hear me out. When a pastor walks out his or her calling, they directly impact the lives of others. They cry with others, pray with them, console broken hearts and restore broken souls to faith. Evangelists use words and lives to convince people how significant and meaningful their faith happened to be. They are working in the fields, harvesting, sowing, reaping and transforming lives. Again, true evangelists impact the world so clearly and effectively, it is impossible to ignore their lives' work.

I could go on, listing calling by calling, discipline by discipline and show real world, positive impacts of each of the major gifts. And, then, there are the rest of us. I sit on the sidelines, sort of a spiritual bench sitter, watching the main players. Friends I have had for years, profoundly change the lives. A dear friend of mine, Christen, is now an excellent colo-rectal surgeon. He saves lives every day in his normal, day job. Yet, I believe, if God gave him the freedom to do so, he would walk away from surgery to be a missionary and evagelist. In fact, he was the man who led me to Christ. Even as a teenager, his gifts were impacting the lives of others. And, I a wall flower, sat back, longing to put my gifts into play. Others I have known for years also used their gifts. The main idea is out of Ephesians where Paul talks about the church body buying build up by those with gifts using them to edify each other and lift up Christ.

For years, I have felt useless as a Christian. At one point I began searching for my place in the universe outside of the Church. Even after a lot of exploration I didn't really find my place. It was not until right before I came back to Christianity that I stumbled onto some new age areas. Needless to say I explored things I probably shouldn't have. In the end though, I found some things in the Church that resonated with me. I had, after a lifetime of searching, found what God created me. Well, I thought I had. As it turned out, not only was I wrong, it began a series of disappointments with God that I am still reeling from. I had, though long experience I won't go into here, the believe my life was set aside by God to become a "spiritual ecologist". For 15 years I searched, explored, prayed, read, sought and hoped to begin realizing what this meant. When I began my work as an ecologist I would be moving into what God had created me for.

Only one problem: incurable cancer. Or, to be more precise, two incurable cancers. The ideas that has sustained me through the hardness of Texas, the barrenness of ideas and relationships I longed to have brought from my imagination into reality, the hope to see God. And yet, what I found: disease. Medical misdiagnoses. Sickness. Pain. Alienation. Loss of hope. Meaninglessness. Death. And, despair. God, I clearly missed the mark if this is what you made me for. I used to see theology as an amazing field. A strategic place where the minds of men and women could seek God and interact with the world to defend the minds and souls of people by fending off theological attacks in the guise of cultural wars, pop culture, media driven onslaughts, and, explaining the plans of the enemy. In short, it was a way to unveil the attacks against the church to provide a way for the church to defend itself.

Yet, what am I to do when the one thing I saw as a redeeming grace, a place where I could still have a mind and be a Christian--that is explore ideas though thelogy--, fails to be able to address my own very, personal attack. I turn to theology, I turn to Christ, and, I turn to God in hope the miraculous power that raised Christ from the dead, that supported the 12 disciples in their early days, and, the same power the testified to the world the God is alive and his son, Christ, is the Messiah. And, I sit, waiting, unanswered, silently, patiently, waiting. Indeed, prayer, when it is a matter of patience, requires a transformation. Many prayers are uttered and their being answered (or not being answered) relates to issues that can be seen as having been answered quickly and easily. When I prayed for healing, I though it was a trivial tasks for God. After 6 months post-surgery I waited on God a lot. I had stood, believing God would heal me and I would be able to stand before my oncologists praising God because God irradicated his need. And, yet, I was wrong in those prayers. Those surgeons, not a miracle where surgery was not required answered my prayer. Well, that was a major blow to my theology, but, I thanked God nonetheless. I was still alive.

Now, we stand at a different crossroads. Science, in all its power and glory, has his a glass ceiling. No more miracles, no more hard, but, effective therapies. In short, the doctors are crying uncle with the admission of their limitations, "We are sorry, there is nothing left for us to do." All right, now, that is an entirely different matter of faith. In the past it was a question of "God, give me the strength to fight this battle no matter how difficult." Now, it is a very dark, much more sober struggle which may lead to utterances like, "God, I don't even know how to love you any more. You may not have done this but you certainly aren't using any of your infinite power, wisdom, and, love, to help me grapple with this. So, in the face of all this, I have stopped, done the proverbial clearing of the desk in my mind. I'm starting, as it were, with a blank slate.

In the midst of pursing truth, of trying to find answers, we often lose sight of the thing we are after. An initial question, partially answered, brings with it its own questions. Sometimes these secondary questions become a study in and of themselves. A few more rabbit trails and complications, and, suddenly, you really have no grip with the original question and any semblance of what you were originally trying to understanding is long gone. In my case, I feel my waters are pretty muddy, so, my hope here is to clear my mind, refocus, and, see anew what I really am working with. Perhaps, in that sort of mental and spiritual reset, I can find real answers, solid insights and glimpses of truth that I once sought, but, in the madness of the pursuit, lost track of.

To put a clear line under the question before me: "What good will there be in my death?" Rephrased another way, "Why am I dying?" In all honesty, I have moved past the first round of questions, "Am I dying?", "Will I get better?" and "How can I keep my faith through this trial?" Many of these questions have been answered, at least in part, but, my main assumptions are: 1) I am dying 2) I don't see any meaning and 3) I don't know how to keep my faith in tact through this process. In many ways, I think my theology is very simple. Jesus is the Son of God, and, we, his adopted brothers and sisters. He himself said many great things would be done in his name, including healings, miracles, and, prophecies. I do not see much of this in the church or the world today, but, in spite of our sinful times, God is timeless and his promises still stand. Longing to see him move in the ways he used to I have held onto a antiquated, idealistic vision of who God is and how he reveals himself to the world. Sadly, my beliefs have done little more than fill me with despair and hardness of heart. God, how could that be you?

My hope, to create real theology, is to find God again. To throw away the dead, useless ideas that I have amassed over the years and connect, if it's even possible, with the God of the universe. The Father, my brother, Jesus, and, their spirit. Relics, artifacts, momentos, reminders all, of those special moments we had, a unique experience, a touch from God or the Spirit. Once their power wears off, they are just trinkets. In many ways, our ideas are much the same. Truths from an age, generations ago, which once held power, but, now, are just historical in nature. God, I am hoping you will talk to me, you will give me a real touch, and, a reason to pick up a new stone as a new momento to store away for a day when we need to recall God's closeness, a hope to recall who he was in that rare, precious moment.

Some years ago I made the connection with a verse saying, "Jesus is the way, the truth, and, the life." Simple. Straightforward. But, what I realized was anything but obvious. If Jesus is the truth, and, we seek to "know the truth and be set free", it is Jesus through whom we find truth and through whom we find freedom. In my case, I am trying to find truth, to find real answers to my questions, about my suffering, about my pending death. And, now, I have this exercise, to find the truth about my fate. To discern what God wants to do with me and my so-called life. In fact, this is a question I have been pursuing for a long time. Right now, I am trying to figure out what sort of meaning my death could have for the kingdom of God.

Kerri and I talked about it. I kept hovering around these ideas, these questions, and, she said maybe I need to focus on the last days of Jesus life. The garden of Gethsemane. Jesus had to, in his natural self, be feeling much like me, "God, there must be another way." I stand here, this way, lost in confusion, unaware of what to do, how to try and get through this with my faith in tact. Lately, I feel like so much has been lost already. My faith has been dissolved, bit by bit, and, what I have left is desperation. Hardly a noble point from which to start a theological pursuit, but, an honest one. And, I think honesty, truth, realness, those are the things I must gauge off of. Paired with the fruit of the spirit, love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, etc, etc, truth and realness may be the only ways I can find some sort of answer, a response from God.

It is my prayer, Lord, that you create in me a pure mind, a new vision and perspective on truth, on you, that will allow me to begin hearing you, knowing your ways, and, understanding what impact my life, and, through this path you have led me on, my death will have on the lives of others. I pray, Lord, that I am not giving up, and, what hope I may have, would be rekindled, to what end, Lord, only you know. But, God, I do not want to die and I pray, you Holy Spirit, would take what little strength and energy I have and put them towards whatever chances I may have. May my pain, my suffering, and, my desperate longing for the real God of the universe help me get  back to a place where I can clearly see, know, and, realize you are good. You are faithful. You are taking this horrific life and somehow using it for good. At this point in time, I can't see what its for, but, maybe, like the servant in the desert, you will open my eyes and let me see what is really going on. At that point, I would be content to say I have done some real theology.