Signs

In the movie “Signs,” each of the characters’ personality foibles are exploited within minutes of each other in the climactic scene. To the preacher whose faith had been wavering for a large part of the movie, seeing seemingly disconnected and asinine traits fuse into their personal salvation is enough to send his mind spinning into a euphoric realization – God’s sovereignty, his personal control over events, is layered, profound and infinitely complex. The “things happen for a reason” cliche becomes a reality as the tapestry that is his family’s life is displayed prominently on the wall in the den, even if only for a moment.

I have long held a controversial and insulting opinion about Christianity. It is a psychological chicken and egg paradox, one with ramifications that are not easily dismissed. Rarely do you see the beautiful, the affluent, the well-adjusted, the “chosen ones”, the “golden boys” in the church. You see those who are rejected by their peers and uncomfortable in the world. You have various flavors of victims, an assortment of acne riddled, disproportioned and awkward – those who cannot gain full acceptance from men grope for it from a source that must love them.

That’s not to say that there aren’t some who meet the world’s approval in and of themselves. Oftentimes these are the converts from later in life, or the future apostates, those who fall away. I’m not so much interested in them.

Yesterday, as I was driving away from Raleigh, I got to thinking. I never did fit into the society that college people typically live in. I can’t carouse, I am incapable of being wanton; even if I met external standards I would not be able to fill the expectations. And maybe I do, I’m a scholar, a state champion, all conference, responsible, Mr. Everything in all ways that I can control. But it doesn’t matter, it is not the way that I am. I cannot follow the rules that other people follow, and I have always considered it as a deficiency.

And so I made a choice. I began to use a crutch, embraced the “opiate of the masses,” began to adhere to the system that most closely matched my intrinsic leanings. At least, it seems like that – I can’t unravel my motivations, my actions, and whatever external calling might meld them together. I began to wonder, well, not began, I’ve wondered this for years and years, do I believe that I believe because if I didn’t my failures would be lain bare with no excuse, no recourse, just me sucking at life?

But the ends justify the means. Why am I the way that I am? So that I would make the choices that I’ve made. Predestination makes for stormy theological waters. It seems to strip us of our will, to guide our reality and cheapen the events for those who believe in it. I’m beginning to think that our conception of the idea is misinformed. My life is a path through the woods. To one side is a cliff, the other a raging river. If I walk forward, I walk the way that I have walked. The decisions that I make, the choices that present themselves, all the forks, all the detours, guide my path down the same trail. In a sense, if I choose to move forward, I choose to take the path that I have taken.

In Christianity, it is the not the vector that is important so much as the disease. We begin afflicted by our ignorance, and we end with a malignant growth, an otherworldly tumor that we can neither remove nor negotiate. It stands opposed to our earthly humanity, but intermeshed with our very existence. How it gets there is immaterial. In the end, it is that foreign outcropping which will justify – in the end, we will be entirely overcome by that which we obtain when our own defenses are at their weakest. Christianity is unapologetic about it gains adherents. It is for those whose immune systems have been compromised by the failings of their human nature, what is so difficult for the most of us is realizing that we need to have this sickness – that our weakness is our strength.

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