Tag Archives: Theism

Big Questions


The big questions:
What is a good life?
What is truth?
What is God?

The concept of a ‘good life’ varies from person to person. Someone’s impression of what constitutes a ‘good life’ can tell you volumes about them. Some people say fun is the most important factor; others place emphasis on morality. The meaning of life is a subjective question. The meaning can be different for everyone, depending on their values. To me, a good life involves adventure. We are pleasure-seeking beings, and we can enjoy life the most when we are exploring new things. In order to lead a good life, one should make the most of every opportunity they are handed. Life is composed of experiences. Having more diverse experiences enriches the quality of life.


Another thing which enriches life is the pursuit of truth. What is truth? This is a question which I have given a considerable amount of thought to. I was raised in an environment where I was constantly being told that only a certain set of beliefs was true. I don’t agree with the notion that truth belongs exclusively to a specific religious group. I think in order to find truth, one needs to explore as many of the possibilities as they can. Truth is a balance of opinions. No one should claim to have the complete truth if they haven’t gotten an accurate picture of the contradictions to their truth. I turn to Hegel’s Dialectic as a good model to demonstrate the intangible quality of truth. Someone’s assertion of what is true operates as the “thesis” and then someone’s contradiction operates as the “antithesis”. Somewhere in between is a “synthesis” of the two which is the truth. The “synthesis” becomes the new thesis and is open to contradiction. The process continues. Truth is a balance. It is defined by people collectively and applies to them individually.


Truth applies to people on an individual level similarly to theism. God is personal, dealing with people individually on their level, in their language. Any attempts to institutionalize Him only limits Him. Although attempts have been made to universalise God, e.g., Roman Catholicism as the only religion in 16th Century Europe, people interpret ‘God’ differently depending on their culture, heritage, experiences, and other factors. I have pried my image of God free from the claws of religion. The God I have come to know differs dramatically from the God I grew up hearing about. He is nothing but kind to me. He understands me perfectly. He gives me advice that’s far more sound than I get anywhere else. This is the God I know, and I have salvaged his reputation from the debris of human assumptions.

Apocryphal Amphigory


My views on Biblical inerrancy began changing when I first stepped out on the limb of uncertainty, asking, ‘why do the Catholics have more books than us?’ I resolved to get my hands on the apocryphal books, read them, and then be able to easily conclude that they weren’t inspired by God, just like the early church fathers did when they were led to that dame conclusion by God. If God led them to disdain the apocryphal books in order to honour his inerrant word, then He would likely not have changed, and would also lead me to the same conclusions, right?

This is where I digress into my theory of the unconscious will. At some point in our early childhood we are programmed with what we are told is the best for us. A compass is instilled in us which sends us in a certain direction which will supposedly keep us safe. This unconscious will prods us in our respective directions.

My unconscious will wanted to discover reasons why the apocrypha did not deserve to be called God’s word. I did unearth some absurdities which made me suspicious, but I didn’t come across any passage which were blasphemous or cultic, just- absurd. Do allow me to share some of my most memorable findings, and follow me on this exegetical trip:

Tobit was a good guy, a law-abiding citizen, but as his king Sennacherib kept killing Israelites, Tobit buried them secretly. Everything was going well until a whistle-blower from Nineveh told on Tobit. Sennacherib got very angry and wanted to kill Tobit, so Tobit hid. All his property was taken away. All he had left was his wife, Anna, and his son, Tobiah. The problem was solved when Sennacherib was killed by two of his sons.

Things are hunky dory then Tobiah brings him news that another Israelite has been killed (didn’t we fix this problem, seems like Sennacherib’s sons are as perverse as their father). It ruins his day. At sunset, he goes to bury the Israelite, while his village mocks him. That night, he slept next to the wall of the courtyard. It must’ve been a rough night, because he recorded, “I did not know there were birds perched on the wall above me, till their warm droppings settled in my eyes, causing cataracts” –Tobit 2:10. No doctors could cure him, and he was blind for four years.

One day, Anna, a weaver, is given a goat, as a bonus beyond her regular wages. Tobit thought it was stolen and gets very angry with her. He regretted that he got so angry with her, so he prayed that he would die.

On that same day in his town, Ecbatana, in Media, Raguel’s daughter Sarah had dealt with a bunch of browbeating from her dad’s maids. She’d been married to seven husbands, but the demon Asmodeus had killed each of them before they had intercourse. The maids accused Sarah of strangling each of her husbands. She went upstairs intending to hang herself, but she relented, because she knew her father would “go to the nether world laden with sorrow” –Tobit 3:10. She thought it was a better plan to ask God to kill her instead, so she also prayed that she would die.

So, in a good old “God-always-answers-prayer” fashion, God did NOT answer either of these prayers. Instead, He sent Raphael to sort things out, to heal Tobit’s eyes, and to solve Sarah’s marital issues.

The outworking of this is a little trippy, seatbelts on everyone:

Tobit’s son Tobiah would marry Sarah, and it was his job to drive Asmodeus from her. Poor guy, it wasn’t his fault he was eighth in line to marry her.

Meanwhile Tobit remembers his retirement savings, and gives them to his son because he is about to die. So, Tobiah goes to the bank with the hired help of an unknown Israelite (the angel Raphael in disguise) to help him find the way. Tobiah wants his dad to meet his new travel buddy, so Raphael steps inside to greet the very gloomy pops. Raphael introduces himself as Azariah, the son of Hananiah the elder, one of their own kinsmen. This makes the blind father happy, well, as happy as he could be, saying, “What joy is there left for me anymore? Here I am, a blind man who cannot see God’s sunlight, but must remain in darkness, like the dead who no longer see the light. Though alive, I am among the dead.” –Tobit 5:10. Raphael only optimistically said, “Take courage! God has healing in store for you; so take courage!” –Tobit 5:10. So Tobit immediately changes the subject and begins discussing wages with this delusional visitor. Tobiah and the angel set off, while Anna is having a nervous breakdown. She’s bawling, saying that Tobit’s retirement funds will only be useful to use as a ransom for their son when he goes missing. Tobit reassures her, saying that an angel will go with him. The dog followed them out of the house, and went with them.

Tobiah and Raphael walked till nightfall, then camped beside the Tigris river. When Tobiah when to wash his feet in the river, a massive fish leapt out of the water and tried to swallow his foot. Tobiah shouted in alarm, but Raphael just yelled back “Wait! Hang onto the fish! Don’t let it get away!” So Tobiah hauls the fish onshore. Raphael tells him, “Cut the fish open, and take out its gall, heart, and liver, and keep them with you; but throw away the entrails. Its gall, heart, and liver make useful medicines.” –Tobit 6:5. Tobiah ate some of the fish. The rest he salted and brought with him.

Late on, when Tobiah was asking about the medicinal value of the fish gizzards, Raphael told him, “As regards the fish’s heart and liver, if you burn them so that the smoke surrounds a man or woman who is afflicted by a demon or evil spirit, the affliction will leave him completely, and no demons will ever return to him again. And as for the gall, if you rub it on the eyes of a man who has cataracts, blowing into his eyes right on the cataracts, his sight will be restored.” –Tobit 6:8-9. That was the end of that conversation.

Am I the only one who is really sensing the Lord’s speaking to them right now?

Then Tobiah and Raphael began talking about guys stuff, like the laws of Moses regarding the betrothal of the Israelite females. Raphael convinces Tobiah to ask Sarah’s father for her, then proceeds to give him wedding night advice, i.e., using the fish liver and heart as incense. (I do wonder if any other type of incense was used in the verbal plenary inspiration of the book of Tobit.)

When they get back to their hometown of Ecbatana, Tobiah goes to Sarah’s house before he goes to his own house… turns out he stays the night. Tobiah took the fish’s heart and liver out of the bag he’d been carrying them in, and placed them on the embers as incense. The demon, Asmodeus, couldn’t stand the smell so he fled to Upper Egypt. Raphael chased him there and bound him hand and foot, then returned immediately.

Tobiah and Sarah happily survived the night in which he should have died, so they stay at her dad’s house for another two weeks. Meanwhile Tobiah’s dad is anxiously counting the days of his son’s absence. When Tobiah returns home, he puts the gall firmly into his father’s eyes, and blows on them. Then, with both hands, he peels the cataracts away. Everybody parties, and they all live happily ever after. Tobiah inherits a ton of money because he and Sarah were both single kids.


Now, breathe, and maybe re-read the story to get all the details again. This story has meant so much to my spiritual growth. I’m sure it will to you too. When you read it a second time, just remember, this is God speaking directly to you.

When I put aside my wry, sacrilegious sense of humour, we can both conclude that this story has its ridiculous elements. However, real life is stranger than fiction, and peculiarity isn’t good grounds for dismissal.

Two questions arise about the book of Tobit. Why was it kept out of the Protestant canon? Is it because the medical practises advocated within this book are so out-of-date, superstitious, and ineffectual that a sensible person could read it and know it was authored an ill-informed fictionist, not God? Why was it even sanctioned as part of the Roman Catholic canon? Do we want to encourage morality in the face of authoritarian repression among gravediggers for generations to come? I guess we can never know the purposes of God. cough cough SARCASM cough cough.

When I read through the Apocrypha, I unknowingly stumbled upon a skill which would serve me well, and put me through years of misery. Critical reading and analysis. Being able to read a Biblical book and question its veracity was a new freedom. When I continued reading through the Protestant canon, I applied the same scrutiny to its content. I realised there are numerous absurdities in our canon as well, the only difference between them is that I’ve been conditioned to believing them from a young age. Talking donkeys? You have GOT to be kidding me. Although, if an event like that were to take place at some time during history, then I would hope the story would be preserved.

My views on Biblical inerrancy embarked on a rollercoaster of doubts ever since picking up a Catholic Bible. One should learn to not ask questions. REALLY? I’m not THAT tractable. For the longest time, I outlasted my doubts with a blind optimism that all these questions have answers. Asking the hard questions = finding the hard answers. I lived in a dream world, thinking, “it’s true, so it will stand up to scrutiny.” That is a bad assumption to make.

I’m not going to live from assumption to assumption, even if that means drawing fewer conclusions.

I’m not going to create a fantasy that says, “everything works out perfectly. Every question has answers. Just believe.”

And I’ve checked with my laissez-faire Head Honcho; it’s all good.



I mosey the cluttered lanes with poetry.
Alone with lines of prose to comfort me.
I dare not look around my ankles,
At crumbling ground, trod by angels,
Soil sighing beneath cadavers,
Reincarnation won’t reimburse
The lives that fall away.
I’m all that’s left today.

“Keep walking, helping is coming,
Keep singing, laughing, humming.”
One foot in front of the other,
Wait for the sound of the trumpeter,
We shall not sleep, but be changed,
Into air, freely arranged.
In the twinkling of an eye,
I will breathe my final sigh.
Laughter will accompany my days henceforth,
Treading lanes of a pilgrimage north.

But until that day I might never see,
I’m bent on living my life completely.
In abundance, to the full, till it overflows,
Getting back up after the cruel blows
Thrown at me from every side.
The hell on earth which I abide.
My life is a raging battlefield,
But peace is on my shield,
Though I walk through the valley of death,
The air composed of final breaths,
I will walk on through the bodies,
Disregarding these robberies
From the bank of lives.
Death tries, almost deprives
Me of life but is unable.
My life cannot be fatal.

Life waits across the bridge of mortality,
Which I will strut in style and vitality.
I don’t know this bridge’s length,
But I do know my Lover’s strength.
That’s enough to carry me.
Through endless lanes that weary me.
I have more than my poetry,
A Protector close to comfort me.

Kitten In A Tree


Tired of drowning in things to be done,

Tired of fighting the battles I’ve [not] won.

While victory lies on the table of contemplation,

And my flaws grow in the soil of frustration,

Am I overcommitted, under acquitted?

Still wrestling pain that I’ve [not] admitted?

Am I working too much, trying to touch,

The glory, the talent of such and such?

Do I need a new fire, a spiritual zeal,

Something to coax my numb senses to feel? 10

Something to bring me down from a tree,

Like the kitten crying, just to be free.

Where are the hands of my Rescuer?

The holes in the hands of my Discover.

I am small enough to fit in His hands,

Large enough to walk with Him on the sands.

Where is He now but a moment away?

A voice away with the sound of “hey”

The voice which knows the length of my day,

Who touches my shoulders and breathes it away. 20

Filling my senses: I’m no longer dead.

When His faithful hand is beneath my head.

Together we recount the ups and downs,

Of a full day, with sights, memories, sounds.

With tears over the unkindness faced,

When I couldn’t cry, but my heart still paced.

Now ocean pieces sting like glass my face,

But cannot stay, for He will yet erase,

And heal their present dwelling place,

Renewing beauty and giving grace. 30

I have a wall of love to run into,

Whenever I have none to hang on to.

For now I will stay in this tree,

With the One who will rescue me.

I am not ready to face them all,

I don’t want to see their faces at all.

They ask for answers, I have none,

They try to make me have some fun,

But forget that I’m not one of them,

That I will never, never be one of them. 40

On a separate note, I was given a gift today,

It was when I heard someone say,

I was not a problem to be fixed,

A wasteland of emotions mixed.

But that life as I knew it was normal,

Problems, pressures, pains were normal.

It was the voice of an angel informal,

A voice pragmatic, sensible, moral.

Which has made me [cry] behind her back,

For the sense and sensibility [I lack.] 50

The encouragement to move on when,

You’ve messed up in front of all of them.

These are the tear which I keep [hidden],

Behind the glass of perfection |forbidden|,

I hear a siren, the glass will -crack-.

But again my Saviour wins it back.

I might be cute, fuzzy, and purring daily,

But I’m wet, shivering, shaking faintly.

Until I’m enclosed within His grasp

Like magic safe within the clasp. 60

Where I release the sounds exiled,

To be within my poetry [silenced.]

Betrayed, portrayed, arrayed,

The words condense on those hands scathed,

The sunlight peeks in through the holes

Of pain, of price for healing souls,

Sometimes I think I’m one of many,

Other times His love says I’m the only,

But I have been healed, am being healed,

And He is my cure thus far concealed. 70

Thou Shalt Never Be Too Serious.

An Array of Sparse Conclusions


I’ve looked over the edge of death and seen complete nothingness. I’ve seen that dreadful emptiness which is capable of distorting a person into a caricature which they won’t recognize themselves as. I’ve seen a pale face in a mirror, asking questions which never touch the air.  I’ve seen the loss which threatens life from those who want to believe they’ve survived. I’ve stared in the black eyes of the dragon, muttering under my breath, “I’m not afraid. I’m not alone. Now go home, don’t trouble me anymore.” I’ve feared that I’d never be able to wake up from a dream I was dying in. When my head was imploding with an inhumane level of decibels, I wasn’t going to live. I had called out for help, being unable to make any sound at all. Then the moment I dreamily called out, JESUS! the phantasmagoria dissolved into a fine powder which fled the room. Life is an array of sparse conclusions, and this is one of them: Someone has my back. This is why I’ve reexamined everything that’s important to me. I’ve questioned every action of mine, and every thought pattern which led to it. I’ve witnessed my honesty create problems for myself which I haven’t been able to solve. I’ve been trapped for years in saying the all the right things, always acting perfect. I’ve witnessed the dull insensitivity of having faked my way through an entire day. I’ve located a part of me which I never knew I was. After all, I’m a thinker, not a feeler, and relatively tough on the exterior. Of all that I’ve done, I’ve made very FEW conclusions. Conclusions are overrated, especially because they can change so quickly, without any warning. Believe me when I tell you:

There is no black or white.
There is no easy answer,
There is no complete right.
Perfection is a cancer.
There’s not a single blessing,
Which isn’t also a burden.
No answer free of guessing,
No pure metal that’s golden.
Real diamonds have a flaw or two;
The perfect life is not for me.
Believe me when I tell you,
Nothing works out perfectly.

Life is like a course of rushing water, it follows the path cut out for it, but why do we often forget that in the larger scale of things, water also cuts its own path over time? Herein is the tension between determinism and free will. Is there a grand plan which the universe adheres to? This whole idea nauseates me when I remember the sincerity of the people who’ve tried to convince me that indeed, everything happens for a reason; it’s all according to the plan. Is there an adjustment bureau which keeps everything on track? Does God have his big thumb on top of everything that happens? Really? Any answers to this question are merely speculative. We can’t prove either answer. Yes, God’s in complete control. It’s true, the Bible says so. Good logic. Once again, you persuade me by your balance and sensibility. No, God isn’t in control at all. The universe is in complete chaos! Haven’t you ever seen that there’s a lot of order also? The stars, are ALWAYS the same, regardless of whether or not it’s a cloudy night on our mortal perception. Theism and Deism are hard to reconcile, and I admit to having failed at that, yet, it seems I can’t completely accept one or the other. All I have left is God-consciousness, which I trust will sustain me through the years of people being shocked that I don’t just mindlessly accept the fundamentals. Life is an array of sparse conclusions, and this is one of them.