Ad Astra and The Sacred Now

The Sacred Now

Brad Pitt’s new movie is the best Case for atheism I’ve ever seen, and why I, a pastor, think all Christians need to hear what it has to say.

Thirty minutes ago, as of writing this sentence, I stepped out of Regal Cinemas after having viewed Brad Pitt’s newest sci-fi mind bender, Ad Astra. In the movie, Brad Pitt plays the son of a legendary space traveler (Tommy Lee Jones), who’s courageous work and discoveries have made him the most decorated astronaut in history. Pitt’s character, Roy, has not seen his father since he was sixteen years old, and the movie does not hold back on the existential dread that comes from such abandonment. Roy battles a demon within himself: he carries the same rage-filled distance he has always detected from his father, and constantly wonders if his closest relationships are doomed to crumble because he has inherited his father’s curse of detachment. 

Roy’s father left his wife and son in search of the infinite, to find the great Meaning and Source that lies beneath all of creation. Roy, like his father, has also chosen to see past what is in plain sight (and equally disregarded it) in search of a deeper reality. Roy is dangerously close to becoming like the man who abandoned all the love and splendor in front of him in search of the unseen.

Ad Astra is a movie with a definite message, and it is even summed up in Brad Pitt’s narration about his father, that goes something along the lines of, “He discovered some of the most beautiful things in creation, but he didn’t see them because he was looking for what was not there. He was looking for the unseen beneath the seen. But, beneath it all there was nothing. No love or hate. No darkness or light. No wrong or right.”

As I raced from the theater to my laptop, mulling over the movie in my head, I thought of a lady I knew, and for the sake of anonymity, we’ll call her Lisa. Lisa grew up with a brother and sister. Her dad was a pastor, and her mom dutifully aided her father in running their small church. Lisa knew at a young age that she was gay, and was horrified to tell her family, knowing it would surely mean swift rejection. Lisa attempted to hide and suppress her identity, even to the point of marrying a man and having a son with him. After a number of suicide attempts and emotional breakdowns, and an affair on her husband’s part, she came out of the closet, promptly ending her marriage. Lisa was banned from her family. She was told she would never be allowed to another Christmas, Thanksgiving, or birthday celebration until she ended her life of sin and returned to her (adulterous) husband. When I knew her, Lisa was a bright, hilarious, and warm presence. I couldn’t imagine anyone who truly knew her would reject her.

 The movie Ad Astra warns us against pushing away the verifiable in search of the unverifiable. Just as Roy’s father abandoned his son because he could not see the beauty before him, Lisa’s family disowned her, unable to see the beauty within her. As a pastor, and as someone who has spent his whole life in the church, I have seen time after time religious dogmatism bring wreckage to relationships when one party veers a step or two from the established dogma. 

When our commitment to the unseen leads us away from the sacred connection to what is seen, one has to wonder what merit this commitment has.

I, of course, am not an atheist. Nor do I have any intentions of ever becoming one. But, a thought struck me as I was watching Ad Astra: I have spent so much of my life running away from the seen in search of the unseen. If I die, and I discover there is no unseen, that all I had was the life I was given on earth, would I feel I made good use of my time? If there is no unseen or afterlife, then all I have is my life here and now. My religion fails me, or I fail it, when it leads me away from deep appreciation of the sacred now. If I don’t appreciate my wife, a sunset, the tides of the ocean, the sound of a running stream, the comradery of my friends, or the taste of a cup of coffee with just the right amount of cream and sugar, then did I live in a way that honors the gift it is to simply be alive?

I don’t believe I have to abandon my faith in God or commitment to Jesus in order to live with a deeper appreciation for the holy this. I believe Jesus, properly followed, leads us deeper into a love for all of this, not away from it. Perhaps this is at least partially what he meant when he said, “the Kingdom of Heaven is at hand.” A life waiting for some cosmic rescue, a life lived for a funeral, is a life that dishonors the glory all around us. If my breath is a gift, and this gift has a source, and that source is Love, then I shame the gift when I use my religiosity as a way to push me away from the beauty in front of me.

Growing up in the church I was told to stay away from worldly things, so I’ll end with this prayer: 

May Holy Spirit lead me into an earthier way of living. May I behold the sacred beauty in my spouse. May I stop and savor the smell of freshly ground coffee in the morning. May I breathe deeply the rich air I’ve been gifted with, and see with gratitude the splendor all around me. 

May I not waste one second waiting for that.

May I live with deep appreciation for This.

Amen.

Suicide is a Boogeyman

There is a Boogeyman who dwells deep within my psyche. I have worked hard to not let my life be dictated by the suggestions of this Boogeyman, I am in the driver’s seat of my choices. At times the Boogeyman was close to being in control, close to sitting in the driver’s seat and driving us off the road. I have worked hard to maintain control of my actions, to not let the Boogeyman find his win. And even though it has been a while since I have heard the Boogeyman’s voice, I feel as though he is still there. Lurking and waiting. Waiting for me to fall down, waiting for the time where his voice sounds appealing and tempting once again.

A lot of us have our own versions of “the Boogeyman” we have had to battle. It can be a million different vices for a million-different people, but for me the Boogeyman is suicide. I was in the 8^thgrade the first time I heard the voice of this dreadful demon. I had finally realized that I had a tendency to crush on my male friends. Growing up in conservative Pentecostalism while realizing my attractions were not binary left me feeling as though I had few options. The discovery of my alternative orientation felt like a death sentence, and my Boogeyman would capitalize on this fear and vulnerability for nearly a decade. 

I resisted the voices for a couple years. Whenever ideations ran rampant I would force myself to take walks around my neighborhood, heart beating loudly before I ever took a step. The harder the temptation grew to make an irreversible choice, the faster I walked. When I couldn’t walk, I would listen to music. Hours were spent lying on my couch weeping as I played The Shadow Proves the Sunshine by Switchfoot over and over. I would sing that chorus through my tears, desperately searching for any glance of the sunshine to be found in my shadows. 

I was fifteen the first time I tried to kill myself. I figured I could chug a bottle of bleach and that would do the trick. It left me on my bathroom floor, weeping in the shame and the puke. The Boogeyman would whisper many more alluring ideas throughout my life. Whenever the pressure got too much to handle, whenever I felt no control over my circumstances, I knew I could always count on the voice to tell me I could end it all, and never have to feel this way again.

For everyone who can recall it, September 11^th, 2001 is a day burned deep into our psyches. There are images of that day which will never leave my head, though one stands out above the rest. As the buildings flooded with fire and ash, many opted to jump out the windows of the gigantic edifices, wishing to rather take their chances with the fall than with the flame. Anyone who has felt the allure of suicide before understands this impulse. It’s not because we’re cowards. It’s not because we want the easy way out. It’s because sometimes the building is too damn hot, and we feel the only option is to jump.

Through counseling, vulnerability, prayer, and sacred conversations with my wife and a few trusted friends, I have learned to resist the voice of the Boogeyman. I have learned to believe the goodness in my life. I have learned to trust another voice. The voice that says “there’s still time to be surprised.”I have bought into hope, to the ideathat all the pain, the fire in the building, is data, not destiny. Even if it feels like I’m burning up, and the building is crashing, perhaps rescue is on the way.

And to you, who reads this, who knows the voice of the Boogeyman, I say the same things to you. Maybe, just maybe, there is still time to be surprised. Maybe, just maybe, you’re not going down with the ship. The world needs you. It needs your gifts. It needs your dreams. It needs your love. It needs your vulnerability. It needs your beauty. It needs you to rebuild that old vintage car you’ve always wanted to fix. It needs you to dance in pretty dresses. It needs you to write that book, to take that dream vacation, to ask that girl out, to take risks, and to bounce back from failures.

 The Boogeyman is a liar. He will never tell you the truth. There is another voice to hear, one to give you hope and define your reality. Hang in there. Wipe the spit from your eye, and expect the unexpected. 

5 Ways to Help a Loved One Suffering a Crisis of Faith: Stuff Let Go from Won't Let You Go (Part 1).

"With the life-giving energy I once received from church withering away, I lost the ability to keep my questions in check. I was terrified. I was standing on the edge of a cliff, and I couldn’t see anything more than fog and mist below. The wind was blowing hard, and I was losing my balance. I was at the edge of certainty, about to fall into mystery."

~Won't Let You Go: Hanging on to Christ and Falling in To Mystery.

I am in the process of writing my first book, Won't Let You Go, which chronicles the process of my loss and rediscovery of the Christian faith. The process has been arduous to say the least, partially because there is so much I want to say, but it doesn't always fit with the through-line I want in the book. I am ironically having to let go of some of Won't Let You Go. So, I've decided to take the pieces I like best that won't make the final cut, edit them to fit in a series of blogs, and publish them this way. I hope they can be of some help and amusement. 

A crisis of faith is no joke, and it is something that has become increasingly common among people my age, i.e. millennials, i.e. people born between 1981 and 1997. This shouldn’t be surprising, since my generation has become one of the least churched generations in decades (Gen Z has beat us out for least churched in American history). In a world where information is so easily accessible, where scientific and empirical data are so compelling, and where it has become increasingly vogue to not identify with any specific religion, faith is difficult to maintain. Many of us know someone who is wrestling with their faith, and it can often times leave you feeling helpless and afraid for said person. Don’t lose heart though, because there are actual ways you can help.

1.       Show Them the Reality of Love

As Science Mike McHargue has said many times, when someone tells you  everything they’ve known and believed is slipping away, the best response is a hug. When someone doesn't know what's real and what's false, show them the reality of tangible love. Remember Jesus’ directive that Christians are to be the ones who bring Gods space (The Kingdom of Heaven) into the human space. When we respond to disconcerting news that a loved one is having a crisis of faith with unconditional love, you bring Gods space to theirs, you reveal that the Kingdom of Heaven is here and now.

2.       Don’t Shame The Doubt

A crisis of faith is a lot like living with the constant threat that your very ground of being can be taken from you at any moment. It is a terrifying, anxiety-inducing, lonely experience. In my experience, it is not something an individual seeks out, rather it is something that happens to her or him. When we respond to the confession of doubt with arguments defending the faith, and scripture references that seem to speak against doubt, as good as our intentions may be, the person in crisis will often feel ashamed, and lock themselves in secret. Instead, listen, offer support and solidarity.

3.       Affirm Their Experience

Doubt is a normal and universal aspect of the human experience. And the brilliant truth of it all is there is room in the Christian story for doubters. Even Christ himself cried out on the cross, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” To doubt is to “fellowship in Christ's sufferings,” as Paul says in Philippians 3. When a person doubts, they participate in the Crucifixion. Don’t be afraid to affirm this stuff is difficult to believe in. An affirmation of experience decreases isolation and increases intimacy. So, affirm the normal and expected terrain of doubt. After all, how many people do you know who have risen from the dead?



         4. Get Curious

When I ventured down the path my faith crisis led me to, I was met with one of two responses when I'd share my experience with people. The first was response was one of suspicion. They'd look at me with a slight squint in their eye, trying to hide their disappoint as they judged that I was arrogantly or naively sliding down the slippery slope of liberalism. The second response was one of curiosity. They would offer empathy, and ask questions about the data and events that led me to my current status. The ones who engaged with me curiously were the ones I eagerly shared with as God become more real to me later on.



        5. Don't Respond Out of Insecurity.

I understand why I was met with suspicion by some. In the past, as my friends confided their doubts to me, I would get suspicious and defensive. The reason for this was the questions they brought up poked at a belief I held tightly, but didn't have a lot of rational behind. When someone questions something that matters to you, and you don't feel you have an adequate defense, it makes you insecure. Resist this insecurity. Again, choose curiosity and empathy, and you will position yourself in their lives as a true ally.



There are many other ways to help loved ones in the midst of a faith crisis (don't pressure them, be patient, validated that they are more important to you than what they believe), but I believe this is a good starting place, and when applied, can alleviate the feeling of helplessness that comes during some of these difficult conversations.