Alden Swan dot com

From July 9, 2016, thoughts as I began to wake up. Oddly coincidental, as I post this I’m listening to the Beatles “Baby You’re a Rich Man.” “How does it feel to be one of the beautiful people?” If you have the dedication to go back so some of my older posts, you can see that it was around this time that I began to bail on the conservative dream and found myself voting for Hillary Clinton. The rest is history, as they say.

Confessions of a privilege addict

Hello, My name is Alden, and I am a privilege addict.  

I’ve known that I was privileged (although I never thought of it in those terms until recently) since I was a child, and I have relished every minute of it.  I know that many of you will doubt or dispute this, as I have never been part of the “1%” and have usually hid my elitist arrogance, but it’s true. 

I believe that humans are inherently tribal in nature; our brains, as my daughter recently explained to me, naturally categorize and order things in order to attempt to understand them. We do the same thing to ourselves, categorizing and ranking ourselves within the greater culture. As children, we are dependent upon others and finding our way in the world outside of our immediate family (or sometimes even within the family) can result in insecurity. The sooner we organize ourselves–finding our tribes, so to speak–the sooner we will achieve some sense of security and belonging.  

As a typically insecure child, I found security in my birthright categories:

1. I was an American, living in the best and most powerful nation in the world. In a world where war was the norm, there was confort in knowing that we could blow up any nation that challenged us. And yes, there is still some comfort in knowing that in spite of the threat of terrorism, we could destroy any country we wanted to.  I have no real comprehension of living in a country where being invaded is a very real possibility.  I am privileged to be an American.
2. I was a Christian, living in a Christian town in a Christian country.  It was a small town, with perhaps one Jewish resident. Better yet, I was a Lutheran, belonging to the largest and most impressive church in town, which also happened to be the most theologically correct church (and yes, I still believe that, but my belief now is based on study, not culture).  We were superior. There was no persecution of any kind for a Lutheran in Minnesota.
3. I was a male. “Man” was the default.  Adam was a man, Jesus was a man, etc. “Man” was the generic label for humanity.  This was kind of a mixed blessing, as males had more expectations put on them than women.  We had to learn to be providers, we may have to go to war, etc.  However, these decisions were in our power, as men were the leaders. 
4. I was white.  In my home town, we were all white.  And, being all white, we could be benevolently and safely non-racist. Everywhere I went, it was clear that white was the norm. Jesus was white, Santa Claus was white, the President was white, and nearly everyone on television what white.  It was obvious that whites were the majority, and the norm, and that it was in our power to be gracious and accepting of non-whites.  It was in our power.  

So there I was.  And here I am, a straight white male Christian middle-class employed American, with a great wife and children, living in an idyllic setting in a peaceful, small town in Oregon.  I am privileged, and I enjoy it very much.  From the comfort of my climate-controlled home, I can view the hate and hurt of the rest of the world, and pretend to have empathy.  

But, I know I can’t. I will never understand what it is to grow up being one of the not-privileged.  Not really.  Twice in my life I have been in situations where I’ve faced armed policemen, but I’ve never experienced it as a black, an Hispanic, or a Native American. I’ve never interviewed for a job as a woman. I’ve never been refused service or the right to marry because I’m gay, or been reported as a terrorist because I speak Arabic. 

I know I am privileged; I am the norm. I don’t feel guilty because of it; as Lady Gaga sang, I was born that way. I admit that I am glad that I am privileged, because I know that my life is a little bit (or a lot) easier because of it.  I am addicted to being privileged.  I like it. I can’t change the fact that I’m a straight white American male, but I can admit that it makes me automatically privileged, and acknowledge that it’s wrong.  To make the Declaration of Independence a reality–where all men are truly equal–I have to be willing to sacrifice my privileged status; that’s the way equality works. 

It’s amazing what I find looking back at my own writing. 4 years ago I began this theological journey that led me to start to write another book, something which I really had no energy for at the time. Looking at this post, I can see that my vision hasn’t changed, and this indeed could be the forward. Enjoy.

Initially published 3-19-19

If I were to write another book, it could be another, even clearer, presentation of the gospel.

If I were to write another book, it would be because my wife told me I should, because the good news is way better than even I thought it was a couple of years ago.

If I were to write another book, this could be the Forward.

Foreword

It is coincidental that here, in mid-Lent, I have just finished reading my fourth book in a row on the atonement, besides listening to various sermons and lectures online. It’s not that unusual for me to lock onto a subject, but I don’t think I’ve ever locked on to something this meaningful and relevant, for it relates to everything (if you happen to be a spiritually-minded person). For that matter, it’s relevant even if you’re not, but that’s a topic for another time. It’s relevant to everything because at the heart of the atonement issue—and the larger issues of life, death and everything—is the nature and character of God.

At this point in my studies, I am more than ever convinced that a majority of evangelicals around the world have been taught things about the atonement—and subsequently the nature of God—which are heretical. In this, I am in line with most of the church throughout history. It is unfortunate that so many church attendees will have to listen to sermons about justice and wrath and how God abandoned Jesus on the cross because He couldn’t look on sin, about how we are all worms saved only because God poured his wrath on Jesus instead of us.

This kind of thinking not only portrays God as being not at all like Jesus (and somewhat schizoid), but pits God against Jesus, antagonist versus victim, dividing the Godhead. This thinking, by the way, came from Calvin, who was forced to this conclusion to make sense of his other heretical ideas.

This is not good news. If anything, this should cause us all to wind up on Easter with a case of PTSD. Even after being saved by the skin of our teeth, we still have to deal with the fact that our God would have crucified us, and will still go on to throw most of the world into hell for all eternity. This is supposed to make us happy? Rejoice! We’re saved, but the rest of the world will burn forever!

With this kind of thinking, it’s no wonder that some of evangelical Christianity (if it can be called that) has turned into a kind of war-mongering hate group, fostering various “us against them” mindsets and acting not at all like Jesus (who, by the way, is not coming back on a white horse to smite anybody).

Thankfully, none of this wrath-based thinking is true. It doesn’t even make sense. (Part of the problem is that words like wrath, ransom, and hell have been mistranslated and the English words mis-defined.) If God was paid off by Jesus, that’s not really forgiveness, is it? If someone else pays off my mortgage, the bank hasn’t forgiven the loan; it was paid in full. Calling it forgiveness is not being very honest. Plus, it makes God into someone other than who Jesus said he was.

The Good News is so much better! Here’s a basic outline of the true story, which (with various nuances) has been believed since the early Church (if I were to write another book, these are topics that I would explore in depth):

• God is exactly like Jesus (the Bible tells us so).

• God is love. Period. (It’s all about the love, ‘bout the love, no wrath…). The wrathful God is a myth.

• There is no original sin/guilt as invented by Augustine/Calvin. Mankind is not totally depraved. Sin is a plague, and we are victims.

• God never wanted sacrifices. (This was news to me, but a couple of later OT writers—and Jesus—make this point.)

• Jesus was born (incarnated) to join man back to God.

• Jesus is in the Father, and the Father is in Jesus (they are not like Legos that can be pulled apart).

• God forgave us apart from Jesus’ death. He forgave us without payment or incentive. (There’s no forgiveness if payment was required.)

• God did not turn away from Jesus because of sin; God looks at sin all the time. The verses in Habakkuk need to be read in context, which actually is making the point that God does indeed tolerate sin. 

• Jesus died to save us from sin (the plague) and death. He basically blew death up from the inside when he rose on Easter.

• Jesus died “for the sins of the world.” Yeah, that’s everyone.

• We don’t become saved to get into heaven or escape hell; we are saved from sin and death so that we can become one with God (at-one-ment is an English word made up by translators to try to capture this meaning).

• God is not sending anyone to hell (which is nothing like Dante described it). 

• Jesus is not coming back to destroy anything (forgiveness and wrath don’t mix). Revelation is not meant to be read literally. And those looking forward to future violence are more apt to tolerate it on Earth now.  

• God is good. Always.

• God is love. Always. No qualifiers.

Now isn’t that so much better? It should be, because this is what the Bible actually teaches, if we really look at it apart from those screwy notions we’ve accepted as truth.

The Good News is that God loves [all of] us and forgives [all of] us because that’s who God is; exactly like Jesus showed us.

Aldenswan dot com is now back up and running, at least for the most part. I think everything is back sans most of the images. As I get time I will try to upload those that matter, Check back here for more insightful, provocative and random thoughts.

From June 22, 2020

I am no expert on philosophy, by a long shot. I’ve always been a philosopher of sorts, I’ve just not studied enough to qualify as an expert on anyone else’s philosophy. If I had to categorize my own philosophy by other’s criteria, I suppose I would be considered a Christian existentialist, a la Søren Kierkegaard. Although, he would likely disagree with me in many ways.

The whole concept of existentialism (summarized to the point of error), is that the world is absurd (as other existentialists claim) or paradoxical, as Kierkegaard claimed. Both words work, I think. The world, in it’s current state, does not make logical sense and you cannot derive your meaning in life from the world we live in. In itself, the world cannot provide a meaningful narrative by which to live. For example, if we were to accept a Darwinian mentality, or more precisely, one based in genetics, we find no individual purpose in merely evolutionary terms, and any choice we think we possess is but an illusion. We even have to question our choice of narrative; some have even suggested that a belief in God is an evolutionary trait.

Even some who believe in a creator/god will argue that history is written beforehand, and the world as we perceive it is all scripted as in The Matrix–including whether we go red pill or blue pill. Again, it’s a narrative that gives no meaning to our lives. Score one for non-Christian existentialism. Life is absurd, deal with it.

The concept of either being merely a product of the universe or controlled in some other way seems to be entirely un-Biblical, and is not much fun. However, it does absolve us from any personal responsibility to succeed or for being a failure. For some, this is a positive, I guess. At best, we go on playing out our roles as we were programmed to do, as characters in a daily soap opera, eagerly awaiting the upcoming plot twists. If we don’t like our character’s story arc, we can blame genetics, the universe, or god (whichever one you want).

Kierkegaard, famously, talked about the “leap to faith” or “leap into faith” (not “of” as typically quoted). As I understand him, he believed that while we cannot derive meaning from simply being, we come to an existential cliff of sorts, and have to leap into a better narrative. For him, that was a faith in God. Sartre thought he was nuts and leapt elsewhere. Some just merely went with the flow of absurdity for the fun (or despair) of it.

CONSPIRACY THEORIES

Most people don’t think about it all that much, or perhaps not at all. Life is what it is, and, as Shakespeare wrote,

All the world’s a stage, And all the men and women merely players: They have their exits and their entrances; And one man in his time plays many parts…“As You Like It”

“It is what it is,” of course, works in many narratives, including an existential acceptance of the world. We live and we die, and we make the most of what’s in between. However, to do that, we must create for ourselves a working narrative to avoid insanity. Sometimes that calls for creating a certain type of narrative in which we appear sane, at least to ourselves.

A few days ago I ran across an interesting article from Time Magazine which stated:

According to a pair of new studies published in the journal Applied Cognitive Psychology, conspiracy theorists—and there are a lot more of them than you may think—tend to have one thing in common: they feel a lack of control over their lives.

So far, this makes sense. In an absurdist or paradoxical universe, the perceptive among us realize that yes, we have no control over what is going on around us. However, as I just mentioned, we need a sense of control to avoid insanity. The article goes on to say:

Past research suggests that if people feel they don’t have control over a situation, they’ll try to make sense of it and find out what happened. “The sense-making leads them to connect dots that aren’t necessarily connected in reality,” van Prooijen says.

Thus, a belief in conspiracy theories. If we aren’t in control, someone else must be, and there must be some way we can retain some individual control. They are, essentially, bedtime stories that help people feel in control, or at least a sense of purpose and meaning, in a world that is seemingly out of control.

I think that personality cults exist for the same reason, perhaps in response to a certain conspiracy narrative. Someone needs to be in control, so it’s either Donald Trump, or the “deep state.” I find it interesting how many people believe in both, and because the deep state represents evil, the binary choice is a die-hard commitment to Trump.

While I may be off on the nuances, in general I think this is all a response to what we refer to as “existential dread.” That is, the feeling that the universe is random, absurd, and totally out of control, and us with it.

THE KINGDOM OF GOD

Now, here’s where I get a bit hypothetically theological. That is, I am willing to accept I am wrong here, but to me this makes sense.

The Kingdom of God (alternatively, the Kingdom of Heaven, as appears in Matthew), was the focus of Jesus’ ministry on Earth (up until he died for the sins of the world). It’s normally defined as the state of being ruled by God, or the place or state where God is ruling (aka in control). This is what the Gospel of Mark has to say about the beginning of Jesus’ ministry:

Jesus came into Galilee, proclaiming the gospel of God, and saying, “The time is fulfilled, and the kingdom of God is at hand; repent and believe in the gospel.”Mark 1:14 15 (ESV)

Throughout Jesus’ ministry, he would teach, “the Kingdom is like this” or “the Kingdom of God is like that.” He contrasted any earthly activity with Kingdom activity. Jesus was building a new narrative about what it was like to live as a resident of God’s Kingdom, in response to a world order that didn’t represent God’s Kingdom, and as opposed to any earthly worldview. He spoke against religious legalism, he spoke against political rebellion, and he spoke against relying on money or power. As Jacques Ellul wrote, Jesus taught us to live “upside down.” He taught that the greatest in the Kingdom was the least, the meek, the lowly, the sinners–not those who claimed power or authority.

While I believe in the traditional concept of the Kingdom of God–as living as an authentic citizen of Heaven–I am seeing that Jesus presented this as an existential narrative, in contrast to other means of dealing with an absurd (sinful) world. At the edge of the cliff, with the absurd universe at our backs, Jesus encouraged us to make a leap into the Kingdom narrative, leaving all other narratives behind.

Faith in politicians? “My Kingdom is not of this world.” Earthly power? “Take the lowest seat at the table.” And what about the need for security in an absurd world?

“Therefore I tell you, do not be anxious about your life, what you will eat or what you will drink, nor about your body, what you will put on. Is not life more than food, and the body more than clothing? ²⁶ Look at the birds of the air: they neither sow nor reap nor gather into barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not of more value than they? ²⁷ And which of you by being anxious can add a single hour to his span of life? ²⁸ And why are you anxious about clothing? Consider the lilies of the field, how they grow: they neither toil nor spin, ²⁹ yet I tell you, even Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed like one of these. ³⁰ But if God so clothes the grass of the field, which today is alive and tomorrow is thrown into the oven, will he not much more clothe you, O you of little faith? ³¹ Therefore do not be anxious, saying, ‘What shall we eat?’ or ‘What shall we drink?’ or ‘What shall we wear?’ ³² For the Gentiles seek after all these things, and your heavenly Father knows that you need them all. ³³ But seek first the kingdom of God and his righteousness, and all these things will be added to you.Matthew 6:25-33 (ESV)

Jesus never merely preached a simple “get saved and live forever in heaven” sermon. He let many people go without ever preaching the “gospel” message, or even telling them who he was. It was almost as if that weren’t crucial to his message, or to his purpose.

What Jesus did, to my understanding at this point, was to provide the one true narrative, the “narrow gate,” the truth that will set us free (John 8:32). This message is not just for our eternal destiny, but it has real-time applications. It is a working existential narrative. We should be living in this “upside down” narrative now, in order to be free of the absurdity around us. This is the beginning of the process of “being saved (1 Corinthians 1:18).”

COMPETING NARRATIVES

This narrative, by the way, is in opposition to some existing “Christian” narratives, many of which are popular in America and elsewhere. Fundamentalism is a competing narrative, as well as much of what calls itself evangelicalism. You can tell simply be comparing what is taught and demonstrated to what Jesus taught. Simple enough.

There are also a variety of prosperity narratives, “Christian” political narratives, and various supernatural narratives. All of these are self-focused (more power, more money, more prestige, more privilege), and are contrary to the basic Kingdom narrative. As a wise man once said, “not by might, not by power..”

I believe we have choice. We can choose the narrative by which we live. As Jesus taught, we have the ability to choose the Kingdom of God over the kingdoms of men. I also believe that we are faced with many distractions, as you would in a paradoxical world, and Jesus also talked about being focused and ready, and not distracted by false teachers and prophets. We shall know them by their fruit, and their fruitcakes…

WRAP-UP

Now, when I talk about making a leap to the Kingdom of God, I’m not talking about being “saved” in the classic, evangelical sense, going to Heaven when you die. I don’t care if you prayed a “sinner’s prayer”–that doesn’t automatically mean you’re living the Kingdom narrative. No, I’m talking about being “saved” in the midst of absurdity, living the Kingdom of God narrative here and now. The Gospel that Jesus taught had immediate, real-world benefits that foreshadow eternity.

Making a wrong leap will leave you swimming in absurdity, trying to make sense of the chaos. Conspiracy theories, political “saviors,” fluctuating retirement portfolios, and the rest, are all false narratives. In fact, I would simply call them idols. There’s no eternal benefit to putting faith in them, and likely no immediate benefit either, just more absurdity and uncertainty.

In an absurd, paradoxical, uncertain world, we are faced with a number of absurd narratives. I believe that Jesus presented the only valid, true narrative for surviving in the midst of chaos, one which stands against the false narratives of politics and society; and that narrative makes it fairly easy to make leap after leap, remaining in the Kingdom (mindset) of Heaven.