Justice vs Love

I used to think that God's foremost quality was Love. I still want to believe that, but it's come to my attention that the Christian God, at least, is equal parts of Love and Justice, and has a passion for each that it beyond the ken of humanity.

Love, of course, consists of relationships. It manifests in selflessness and sacrifice. This is the aspect of God that we tend to focus on today, the one that we like to hear about. Not the God of fire and brimstone, but Abba, Father. The God who sent Jesus to save us so he could spend eternity with us. And this is, indubitably, a part of God's nature. God does, in fact, love us more than we could ever imagine.

But the other part is Justice, and Justice is just as integral to God as Love is. It's a part of who he is. Now, Justice deals with the law (a law that has its soul in Love). It also deals with punishment and reward according to what we deserve according to that law. God's Justice says that the wages of sin is death--or, more on point, the punishment of sin is everlasting torment with Satan. He also says that the reward for righteousness (a righteousness that can only be attained through accepting Jesus' sacrifice, not by works) is eternal life with Him. Punishment and Reward, very simply. One is eternal bliss, the other eternal torment. There is no grey area.

This marriage of Love with Justice explains much of the tougher aspects of Christianity, particularly the institution of Hell. Why does sin merit such a harsh punishment? Because God's wrath at a violation of the law of Love is virtually unending. He loves the righteous with a burning, everlasting love -- and he despises the unrighteous with an equal degree of loathing. He cannot do otherwise, because he IS Justice, just as he IS Love. It is just as much out of character to release sinners from torment as it would be to reject one of his beloved sons or daughters.

According to this system, Christians have indeed been saved from death by Jesus' sacrifice, and it was a great act of Love -- the greatest, even, for it replaces infinite wrath with infinite love. Humans have all broken the Law of Love, and according to God's Justice, we all deserve the eternal wrath of an infinite being. Because Jesus took that punishment on himself, God now sees those that follow Christ as perfect beings worthy of heaven. So there are only two options for humanity: repent or perish. And according to Love and Justice, this all makes sense, and it is both loving and just.

My issue, though, is that it seems to me that Justice and Love are two logically incommensurate values--that God cannot claim both of these to the utmost degree. In other words, to be completely Just, God must sacrifice being Loving. And to be completely Loving, God must sacrifice Justice. This is because while an action like sending people to hell to be tormented for eternity may indeed be Just, it certainly has no Love in it. It doesn't lead to a relationship, and it isn't selfless or sacrificial. It's just the law, and a terrible, painful, and hard law. Likewise, if God made exception to people who refused to bow the knee to him -- if he refused to punish them eternally because of his magnanimous Love -- then he would be denying his own Justice.

So it seems to me that the two aspects of God that are the strongest and most lauded character traits are logically unable to exist in the same God at the same time. And I think that many people realize this, and that's why we get books trying to explain how hell isn't what we think it is. In this age, people want a God whose Love is more powerful than his Justice, who would never dream of shutting himself away from his creation for any reason; who would never create a place where everlasting torment has its way with frail humanity. The other end of that spectrum is preaching Sinners in the Hands of an Angry God -- a concept rebuffed by some, but equally as valid according to Scripture. It's a God whose Justice is to be feared and accepted, a God whose Love only extends to the cross and no further.

Logically, there seems to be no middle ground. Either God's Justice or his Love must triumph, and hell indicates the triumph of Justice over Love.

the wine of god's wrath

And the Egyptians will know that I am the Lord when I stretch out my hand against Egypt...

--Exodus 7:5 

I've been reading this book, Erasing Hell by Francis Chan and Preston Sprinkle. It's written as a response to the more post-modern "Christian Universalist" position that is becoming increasingly popular, and it's written as an honest inquest into the Biblical reality of hell.

And it makes me extremely uncomfortable.


You see, at the same time as I'm reading this book, I'm watching the ninth and tenth seasons of Stargate SG-1, where the enemy is this huge religion from another galaxy and its gods, called the Ori. The priests of the Ori perform miracles, healing sick, raising people from the dead, etc-- unless someone claims to not believe in their divinity. At that point, the Ori will kill entire planets. They demand worship, and if a people refuse to bow the knee, they are killed. Follow the Ori or die.


When SG-1 resists the Ori, they are always asked, "You question the power of the Ori?" And they always respond, "No. We know your power, and it's awe-inspiring. What we question is your right to claim authority over beings of lesser power. We question your morality. We question your godhood."


And the picture Francis Chan paints of God (and even Jesus) is one of a God who has a huge emphasis in "severely punish[ing] those who do not bow the knee to King Jesus. (pg. 103)" He pulls passage after passage from the Old Testament, from Jesus, and from Paul and Peter which paint quite vividly a portrait of a wrathful, vengeful, condemning God who will cast all who do not follow Jesus and obey his gospel into a place where they will be "tormented day and night forever and ever." 


Like Stargate's "Ori," God offers the "good news:" bow the knee and be saved from torment. This is God's love.  This is the gospel. Instead of being cast into eternal torment, we can worship a being of incomprehensible power. No other option, no other choice. Subjection or torment. Convert or die. This is not love. This is not morality. This is "might makes right" on a divine scale.


What makes a God? Is it power, or is it morality? For my part, I could not worship an immoral God, no matter how powerful he is. And that's why this doctrine makes me uncomfortable. In my understanding of morality, love keeps no record of wrongs. Love forgives its enemies and prays for its persecutors. Love does not sentence someone to eternal torment-- no matter what he's done, and especially not for simply refusing to bow his knee. So why does God do this?

"God's ways are higher than our ways," Chan reminds us. His methods are not for us to understand, but simply for us to obey. Nevertheless, humanity understands morality, don't we? We know, at least generally, what's right and what's wrong, what's loving and what's evil. We know that if someone extends the choice "follow my commands or be cast into eternal torment," that's wrong. What makes it right for God? Do we assign him moral immunity simply for the vastness of his power?

And people will say, "No, God is saving us from our own sin. It's not God who sends us to hell, but we choose it when we sin." To which I would respond, "Who decided that the wages of sin is death? Is that a law even God must follow? A truth more universal than our Creator?"

The bottom line is, hell makes me nauseous. I don't understand how an ethically perfect being could torment his own creation for refusing to acknowledge him as their god. Chan makes it very clear that hell is not remedial--it doesn't fix people--it's just punishment. It's just vengeance born of anger. It seems incredibly contrary to me for Jesus to tell us to love our enemies one minute and preach the horrors of hell the next. Is God above his own moral law? Is that moral?

Sometimes I feel wistful

It was him, wiping away tears of joy at just seeing her.
Her, beaming and giddy and skipping and laughing.
Him, not reciting a formula but literally shouting his love.
Her, holding his face to hers for just a second longer.
Both of them, holding hands, skipping and dancing out of the chapel.

I've never been a fan of weddings. They're boring, they're all pretty similar, they all end the same. That, though, wasn't a wedding so much as a celebration. It was like a pronouncement that these two kids are perfectly in love, and plan to be for pretty much ever. It was the best day of their life, and everyone could tell. There was no reservation. It wasn't a ritual for them; it was a gift to each other, from each other.

I feel like I suddenly understand the dying institution-- you don't get married to "become one flesh." You get married because you can't comprehend being with anyone else for the rest of your life. You don't want anything else. A lot of guys label it a prison, but to him it was more like finding freedom. Like, in his wife, in that union, he found himself more himself, if that makes any sense. It was really neat. You could see this love between them that they were dying to find a way to express. Marriage was the most natural step in the world.

I wonder if I'll ever feel that strongly for anyone. I wonder if it's even possible.

In any case, congrats, guys. That was fun to watch.

ruminations on perfection

Der Weg ist das Ziel.

This life is not about its culmination; it never has been. People continually strive for perfection, but perfection--if we ever reached it--would be terminally boring. Life is and always has been about pushing forward--about the journey, and never about the destination.

Imagine a perfect world: no one need strive for anything, because they already have it. There is no rivalry, no improvement, no challenge, no purpose. For this reason, there are some aspects about heaven that I don't quite understand. We all idealize perfection, but in reality, I don't think anyone would choose a perfect world over one where we have the chance to continually improve ourselves--and one where we can make mistakes. Without mistakes, life would be kind of purposeless. Imagine a video game where you're assured to win every time--no one would play it. We play video games because we want the chance to prove ourselves--we want the challenge. We want the chance to make mistakes, and if that chance is taken from us, we immediately lose interest.

If anything and everything we do brings about the same solution--perfection--then no one will have any motivation to continue. This is, in essence, why communism is a failed economic system.

So then, what is heaven like? Is heaven a place of perfection, where every desire is immediately granted and every whim satisfied, and we long for nothing?

For my part, I hope it's not.

I want the ability to fail. I want the chance to make mistakes and keep trying. Without the possibility of disappointment, success means nothing. Perfection is not the best feeling in the world--instead, it's attaining Perfection against all odds. Once we reach it, we immediately look for the next challenge.Without some possibility failure, success means nothing. Without some possibility of hell, heaven means nothing.

And if we are given, in heaven, the ability to make mistakes, how is it different from our present life?

So my tentative, concluding thought: I hope heaven isn't perfection. I hope it is, like this one, a place where we are offered the chance to strive for perfection and given the possibility of failure. Perfection isn't as sublime as we've heard.

On the Physics of the Illusory

Ideas--true creative inspirations--are subtle, like that illusory dream that quietly fades seconds after awakening. Ideas can't be forced. Instead, they form at the edges of consciousness, lingering there until noticed; and then, you try to focus on them, and they seem dimmer, less focused. Like stars--brighter when you look away, because of the increased ratio of rods to cones in the peripheral retina. I wonder if some physiological aspect of the brain is comparable.

I feel like searching for an idea requires stealth. Pretend to focus on something else, keep the hunt for an idea in the subconscious--and then, in the middle of reading a book or taking a shower, it appears, and you seize it with a triumphant Eureka! And your captured idea becomes the basis for your poem, or your short story, or your screenplay.

Forced ideas, I feel, make average literature.

call my name

Stagnation is Death

The last month has killed me. After finishing two scripts and sending them to everyone I could possibly send them to, I've done nothing but wait--Wait for the competition to announce the next batch of winners. Waiting for friends to give me their opinions on my scripts (FAIL, friends). Waiting for the Hollywood insiders to give me a Pass or a Recommend. Patience, I've found, is not my strong suit.

Write more! you'll say. I know, I should. I've tried, but for the life of me, I canNOT find a new story that captures my interest. I need something fresh, dark, gritty, and realistic with high stakes, but every story I think up sounds so cliche to me right now. I don't know why. My muse has left me for now.

Not that it would make a lot of difference. At this point, everything is riding on those two scripts. If they fail, I'm not sure I could stay here; or, at least, not without significant changes. If they work, then I'll have everything I've been looking for regardless of my current project.  Maybe that's why I can't bring myself to care enough about the next battle. I'm just not sure it matters enough right now. The stakes aren't high enough.

So that leaves me pacing my studio apartment like a lion in a cage, hoping for something to happen. Hoping to escape the concrete bonds of this sun-choked city and do something real. My hometown is ridden with unthinkable trauma, and I can't even so much as lift a finger to help. I'm so, so tired of all this. I need out, just for a bit. Just for a month.

A week, even.

A day.

I need something to bring me out of this.

if the silence takes you,

You wake, and immediately know that something's different. Quieter. You rise, stroll over to the window, and open the shade to find that your world changed, altered by a silent but consummate snowfall.

Everything is white. The morning sky is gone, replaced by a solid array of winter clouds. The concrete, the mud, the cars, the trees--none of them exist anymore; in their place, intriguing amorphous white shapes stare at you. The streetlamp is still on, unable to recognize that the sun has risen. It's so different, so foreign. But also... so clean. So startlingly beautiful.

Ten minutes later, you step outside into the alien world. The cold hits you, but you ignore it as you gently step into the layer of fresh powder at your feet. The first footsteps on an uncharted moon. The thought makes you smile. You're a heroic adventurer, boldly scouting a virgin landscape. Alone, but inexplicably content.

You run your hands through the snow, tracing patterns with your fingers. Grab a handful, put it softly to your lips, take a bite. Again, you smile. A couple more paces into the field of snow, and you collapse onto your back, the snow cushioning your fall and creating a perfectly shaped pillow for your body. More comfortable than any king-size plush-foam retail mattress. So natural, so... perfect.

Your eyes close as you descend into rapturous silence. Belated falling snowdrops caress your cheeks, but the strange thing--the wondrous thing--is the silence. The stillness. No cars. No birds. No shouts. No constant electric hum. The snowflakes and the clouds envelop every sound, leaving only a breathless serenity in the whitewashed world. Everything fades away as you lie in the snow, in a foreign world that you, suddenly realize with a pang of honest jealousy, is yours. You finally belong. This is it. This is yours.

You've found your peace.
You've found stillness.
You're here.