We don't really care about other people. We know so much about their friends, their hobbies, and their education. We seem to have the idea that these things are what make a person who they are. We care about their environments, but we don't care about them.
Why don't we value others' ideas? It's exactly what they value most. Have you ever tried to ask somebody's opinion on something? They're almost always elated to give it to you. They're thrilled that you think them important enough to ask their opinion on anything. We spend so much time with other people, but how rarely do we actually care about what's really important to them. How rarely do we care about what really defines them, about the thing which made Frederick Douglass a hero, about the expression of our humanity.
If you really want to make someone your good friend, ask them who they really are. Ask about the most important choices they've ever made: their beliefs. "What do you think about..." could be the harbinger of a renaissance and deepen our ever-shallowing relationships. End the sentence with 'success,' 'beauty,' 'politics,' 'God,' 'purpose,' 'truth,' 'choice' or 'science.' The deeper, the better.
And don't even try, "I'm no philosopher," because that's just another way of saying, "I'd rather have old guys who sit in musty rooms decide what the purpose of my life should be." And indeed, that's what most of you have done. Be Courageous. Liberate yourself and your friends from the terrible slavery of such unquestioned compliance. Build an underground railroad to intellectual freedom, one question at a time.
We’ve fought so hard for the freedom of thought. We've achieved it. Nobody's going to level a rifle at you for thinking or expressing your thoughts. But now that we have the freedom to express our ideas, nobody cares. Indifference is crueler than any bayonet. At least the soldier pressing your face to the dirt with his boot sincerely cares about your ideas; he would like very much that you not express them. Now that you’ve escaped the soldier, exercise your freedom to ask questions of your friends.
But what about, "Don't talk about God or politics?" Those who express such an opinion must be afraid that you might actually get to know somebody. It is exactly those things, the things which are most important to who we are, that we should talk about. The conflict comes because we behave like children when "discussing" God and politics.
"Republicans are warmongers!" "Christians are mindless!" "Muslims are terrorists!" Even if you are actually dumb enough to believe one of these statements, you can still have good conversation. Imagine hearing, "I believe in God." Would you respond as a child with a rehearsed insult ("Sheep!")? Don't be surprised when civil discourse crumbles under the great weight of your immaturity. Or would you respond in maturity and ask, "Why do you believe in God?" As a mature questioner, you could ask question after question without even expressing your own belief, let alone getting upset at your Theistic companion. You can get to know that person better in an hour of such conversation than a month of our status quo friendship.
We're so out of practice with thinking together that great progress would be made simply by starting our conversations with "What do you think?"
So, what do you think? I'd love to know: TheEngineer@gmail.com.
Wednesday, April 9, 2008
Thursday, March 27, 2008
My Greatness
"You're amazing!" "You're so smart!" "Good for you!" "Congratulations!""You deserve it!"
I've gotten this a lot this last week. Not because I just started being amazing or smart, or because I actually did something important, but because a group of people out near Palo Alto said I was amazing. They did this in the form of an offer of acceptance to Stanford School of Medicine.
I can now brag (and so can my friends and family) about "being accepted to Stanford." I have achieved the very highest of Med School Applicant-dom; I am the greatest! But what is greatness? What is my greatness? What can be my boast?
The first thing to consider is that this acceptance is just a symbol. I have not actually done anything. The thing that changed was not that I accomplished something new, but that someone important recognized that I had accomplished something. I can't boast about another's opinion; it's not mine.
Nevertheless, the acceptance was caused by my accomplishments. All the hooplah might be indeed justified, if a few years late. But let's look at this closely. Why did I get an acceptance to Stanford? There are three main reasons:
#1 I had good enough numbers; i.e. I was smart enough.
#2 I had amazing extracurriculars. I started FISH.
#3 I had a great research experience. I got published.
#1 My smartness is not something I control. I was born smart; it was literally a gift of God. I can't rightly boast about something borrowed. "Hey guys, check out my Ferrari!" "When'd you get it?" "It's not mine, but aren't I cool?" Nevertheless, you could say that I put my smarts to good use by studying hard. Perhaps I could boast about my choice to use my talents.
#2 The story of the founding of FISH and its early years is one built upon miracles. 6 people agreeing to work towards something that none of us had ever done or even thought possible was the first. The second major miracle was the introduction to Dr. Tamez. One phone call to my friend, caused his friend's mother's church's deacon (who's a doctor) to call us and invite us immediately to a clinic, getting our foot in the door abroad. The third is our discovery of Maclovio Rojas. Armed with the information: "a town called Maclovio Rojas off the free road to Tecate needs help," we drove to Mexico, without almost any Spanish speaking ability. We ended the day with the keys to a clinic secured for the following week and an open invitation from the leadership of the community. Without any of those three events, FISH would be exactly what most other premed groups are: not impressive. And I'd be what most other premed officers are: not impressive. But God chose to perform these miracles in FISH. How can I brag about that? Sure, I worked hard, but it would have been for naught without the miracles.
#3 My research position was a gift from God. I was by no means the smartest or best researcher. I, an engineer, was picked up by a Pathologist, who decided he wanted to train me and bring me up as a scientist. He gave me a job I could actually do, throwing me right in the middle of the most promising collaboration he had going. And I got published. Good for me! Not really. I was faithful and did my job as best as I could, but the biggest and most impossible hurdle was getting the perfect position. I had no say in that. If anything I can only boast in doing my job.
So Stanford didn't get a brilliant, intrepid, innovative leader-scientist as they thought; they simply got a someone who God blessed and is blessing. I suppose it's all the same for them; they get blessed on account of me (like Pharaoh on account of Joseph). The bottom line for me is that, in each of these three critical areas, I don't have much that I can claim besides faithful work. Can I boast in that?
How did I even choose to work hard? My choice was an act of my will. If you're a scientist and a determinist, my 'will' is nothing more than an illusion, so nothing to boast about. If you're a Christian and anything but a Calvinist, my will itself is perhaps the most incomprehensible gift of God: freewill, independent action, is a divine attribute that we have the great privilege of sharing in. In essence, God has ceded part of His will to me, on loan until (or if) He wants it back. Until then, I can use it to make decisions about working hard or not.
So even the mechanism by which I make my decisions is borrowed. So can I rightly boast about it? My will acts before God; if I were to boast, it would be before Him. That is an exceedingly bad idea considering how often and grievous my errors are.
So what is left of my greatness? Nothing. It is, at best, only as the greatness of a mirror. I have no greatness in me, and the most I can ever hope to do is to cleanly reflect the brilliant glory of God. There is no other shape or form in which I can appear as brightly. While I cannot boast about my greatness, I can certainly boast about His.
Listen to the conclusion of the matter:
Praise God. Praise God for FISH. Praise God for his blessings in my research. Praise God for the mental talents he has bestowed on me. Praise God that someone saw it and has given me an opportunity; indeed, praise God that I was accepted to Stanford! But please, for the love of God, don't praise me.
I've gotten this a lot this last week. Not because I just started being amazing or smart, or because I actually did something important, but because a group of people out near Palo Alto said I was amazing. They did this in the form of an offer of acceptance to Stanford School of Medicine.
I can now brag (and so can my friends and family) about "being accepted to Stanford." I have achieved the very highest of Med School Applicant-dom; I am the greatest! But what is greatness? What is my greatness? What can be my boast?
The first thing to consider is that this acceptance is just a symbol. I have not actually done anything. The thing that changed was not that I accomplished something new, but that someone important recognized that I had accomplished something. I can't boast about another's opinion; it's not mine.
Nevertheless, the acceptance was caused by my accomplishments. All the hooplah might be indeed justified, if a few years late. But let's look at this closely. Why did I get an acceptance to Stanford? There are three main reasons:
#1 I had good enough numbers; i.e. I was smart enough.
#2 I had amazing extracurriculars. I started FISH.
#3 I had a great research experience. I got published.
#1 My smartness is not something I control. I was born smart; it was literally a gift of God. I can't rightly boast about something borrowed. "Hey guys, check out my Ferrari!" "When'd you get it?" "It's not mine, but aren't I cool?" Nevertheless, you could say that I put my smarts to good use by studying hard. Perhaps I could boast about my choice to use my talents.
#2 The story of the founding of FISH and its early years is one built upon miracles. 6 people agreeing to work towards something that none of us had ever done or even thought possible was the first. The second major miracle was the introduction to Dr. Tamez. One phone call to my friend, caused his friend's mother's church's deacon (who's a doctor) to call us and invite us immediately to a clinic, getting our foot in the door abroad. The third is our discovery of Maclovio Rojas. Armed with the information: "a town called Maclovio Rojas off the free road to Tecate needs help," we drove to Mexico, without almost any Spanish speaking ability. We ended the day with the keys to a clinic secured for the following week and an open invitation from the leadership of the community. Without any of those three events, FISH would be exactly what most other premed groups are: not impressive. And I'd be what most other premed officers are: not impressive. But God chose to perform these miracles in FISH. How can I brag about that? Sure, I worked hard, but it would have been for naught without the miracles.
#3 My research position was a gift from God. I was by no means the smartest or best researcher. I, an engineer, was picked up by a Pathologist, who decided he wanted to train me and bring me up as a scientist. He gave me a job I could actually do, throwing me right in the middle of the most promising collaboration he had going. And I got published. Good for me! Not really. I was faithful and did my job as best as I could, but the biggest and most impossible hurdle was getting the perfect position. I had no say in that. If anything I can only boast in doing my job.
So Stanford didn't get a brilliant, intrepid, innovative leader-scientist as they thought; they simply got a someone who God blessed and is blessing. I suppose it's all the same for them; they get blessed on account of me (like Pharaoh on account of Joseph). The bottom line for me is that, in each of these three critical areas, I don't have much that I can claim besides faithful work. Can I boast in that?
How did I even choose to work hard? My choice was an act of my will. If you're a scientist and a determinist, my 'will' is nothing more than an illusion, so nothing to boast about. If you're a Christian and anything but a Calvinist, my will itself is perhaps the most incomprehensible gift of God: freewill, independent action, is a divine attribute that we have the great privilege of sharing in. In essence, God has ceded part of His will to me, on loan until (or if) He wants it back. Until then, I can use it to make decisions about working hard or not.
So even the mechanism by which I make my decisions is borrowed. So can I rightly boast about it? My will acts before God; if I were to boast, it would be before Him. That is an exceedingly bad idea considering how often and grievous my errors are.
So what is left of my greatness? Nothing. It is, at best, only as the greatness of a mirror. I have no greatness in me, and the most I can ever hope to do is to cleanly reflect the brilliant glory of God. There is no other shape or form in which I can appear as brightly. While I cannot boast about my greatness, I can certainly boast about His.
Listen to the conclusion of the matter:
Praise God. Praise God for FISH. Praise God for his blessings in my research. Praise God for the mental talents he has bestowed on me. Praise God that someone saw it and has given me an opportunity; indeed, praise God that I was accepted to Stanford! But please, for the love of God, don't praise me.
Wednesday, March 19, 2008
The Audacity of Hope
I ran out of my interview at 3:50PM, tie and blazer flapping in the wind. The girl who offered me a ride to the airport (who just happened to have as perfect a face and as enchanting eyes as ever I have seen) texted me to say she would be late. Too late. And too bad for me.
I couldn't wait, so I grabbed my stuff from the admissions office and ran to the bus stop. I must have just missed the bus because I waited 15 minutes for the next one. I got on the bus and the girl called; the bus was moving right along, so I figured I'd be OK on time. I thanked her for her offer and hung up. As soon as I was disconnected, the bus hit traffic. After a slow mile of stop-and-go, it made it to the city and the traffic cleared up. The driver told me where I could catch the light rail and I got off where he indicated.
I headed briskly in the direction I was instructed, and made it just in time to see my train pulling away. I thought I'd just catch the next one. The trains come only every 20 minutes. As I made this mental calculation, I began running, stupidly like a baffled tourist, after the train. I knew it had frequent stops in the downtown region and I hoped I'd be able to catch it.
I ran hard. I'm not the most athletic of people, so my running/sprinting, carrying my luggage wearing full dress clothes and, more painfully, dress shoes, was rather tiresome. But I was able to maintain a good pace. The train stopped just across one last street, with the doors open, but traffic blocked me. I looked for the first break I could, and ran. I made it to the stopped train. I was winded, but relieved. But the doors were closed. The train started moving.
I ran after it again, this time being less careful with traffic, jaywalking and probably looking very silly. After five minutes of hard running, I saw the train stop 100 yards ahead. I kept running, but knew it was hopeless. Sure enough, as I approached, the train left.
I walked the rest of the way to the train stop. I panted and wheezed as I waited the long 20 minutes for the next train. I remembered then, in that moment, failing to catch my breath, that I had athletically induced asthma that is brought on by extreme exertion. Darn it. I took off my blazer and let the cold Portland wind dry my sweat.
I needed a red train. There were only three trains, red, blue and yellow, and I hoped maybe it would come earlier. I watched a blue train stop, and then go by. I watched a yellow train stop, and then go by. The next turned the corner, and I was anxious to get moving. I watched a blue train stop, and then go by.
The fourth train was red, and I found a nice corner of the train to settle down in. The train ride was a nice reprieve. I tried to relax, but the conversation across from me was too loud to ignore. It was a group of high school girls who must have been some kind of athletes; they talked about injuries to the musculo-skeletal system as I only hope I can learn to. It was rather relaxing overall, until a group of three homeless people got on the train, sat down around me. Two of them began publicly to display their affection to one another. The third talked of nothing to nobody; nobody listened attentively.
The train pulled up to the airport terminal. I grabbed my stuff and continued the race. Running through the terminal, I paused long enough to see that my flight was indeed ON TIME at Gate A6. Another runner beside pointed out the inevitability of this particular application of Murphy's Law. I thought how fortunate I was to have an A gate; I thought I was close. I ran to the security line, an undressed as they dictated. Belt, shoes, blazer, pockets, and a ziplock full of toiletries all were put into a plastic tub an run through the X-ray machine. It was 5:27; my flight left at 5:35. I might still have time! I put my belt in my shoes, grabbed the shoes, the blazer, and the bag and ran, sock-footed towards A6.
"You forgot your change," someone with good intentions, but no knowledge of how late I was, offered.
"Keep it!" I replied, with equally good intentions.
I saw the first terminal! Hooray! Wait, no. It was B1. There it is! No, that is B2-6. I kept running. The hallway turned. Escalators...stopped up by slow people. Stairs! I quickly learned that nylon socks don't have grip on plastic stairs, and scrambled down as quickly as I could without getting killed. A1. A2. More running. A6! A plane outside with the stairs down! But where is the boarding information? Where's the attendant?
I asked where my flight was. The person working behind the counter told me she was not working. I asked another. She sounded sorry, and told me how sorry she was. "I'm so sorry," she said, "The flight must have left already."
I looked at the clock. 5:29. "I've got 5 minutes!" I insisted.
She didn't seem to believe that my affirmation of having 5 minutes would have any power in recalling the departed plane. "They must on the runway already."
For the first time, I saw the humor of my situation. I joked, "So I could still catch them on the tarmac?"
She didn't see the humor in my situation. "No... I'm sorry." She looked sympathetic. "You really tried hard!" I laughed. "Can I change your flight to 8:35?"
I sighed and agreed. I collapsed in an uncomfortable airport chair and didn't move. My attendant typed away at the keyboard arranging my new flight plan.
"There goes Oakland," said another attendant.
"I thought it left already?" said the one helping me.
I looked over at the plane I had seen. The door was still open! I got up, grabbed my bag and started for the gate. Immediately, the door was shut and the plane taxied away. I could have caught them on the tarmac. My silly joke was now a cruel irony.
"I'm sorry," my attendant said again.
She finished re-booking me and gave me my ticket. "Could you recommend anywhere to eat?" I asked. "I've got a few hours to kill."
"Stanford's has a great happy hour. You should head over there!" she replied, happy to be able to tell me good news.
I walked over to Stanford's on the other side of the airport. I found a table in the bar, looked at the happy hour menu and started getting really hungry. Running like a crazy man really works up an appetite. Earlier in the day, the medical school I interviewed at had the infinite generosity to provide me with a sandwich as a reimbursement for my two days, my hotel room, and my flight. To compound this, I had accidentally grabbed a veggie sandwich. Needless to say, I was hungry. I decided on a Caesar salad ($3) and a big bowl of soup ($2) to go with my drink. I was tempted to drink away my sorrows, but decided raspberry iced tea was a more prudent (and tasty) choice.
The waitress came and asked with a hint of sympathy, "How are ya?" I must have looked as I felt: exhausted.
I sighed and thought about the proper responses to the question. "Good" would have been most appropriate, but, "OK" was as optimistic a response as I could muster.
"Just OK?" she asked.
"Ya. Just OK. I just missed a bus, which made me miss my train, which made me miss my plane."
She decided to repeat my attendant's sentiments, "I'm sorry," and proceeded to the part I was really interested in: "What'll you have?"
The clouds were parting!
My mouth watered. "Let me start with an iced tea!" I said with a renewed vigor.
The sun broke through!
"If you want happy hour prices, you'd better order now; you've only got 2 minutes!" she recommended.
A glimmer of hope...
Another waiter, who must have known what kind of a day I was having, intent on making my day as bad as was in his power, said evily and with sinister malice, "The computer's not taking happy hour orders anymore."
Was crushed without mercy!
"Should I bring you a dinner menu?"
Alas!
I couldn't wait, so I grabbed my stuff from the admissions office and ran to the bus stop. I must have just missed the bus because I waited 15 minutes for the next one. I got on the bus and the girl called; the bus was moving right along, so I figured I'd be OK on time. I thanked her for her offer and hung up. As soon as I was disconnected, the bus hit traffic. After a slow mile of stop-and-go, it made it to the city and the traffic cleared up. The driver told me where I could catch the light rail and I got off where he indicated.
I headed briskly in the direction I was instructed, and made it just in time to see my train pulling away. I thought I'd just catch the next one. The trains come only every 20 minutes. As I made this mental calculation, I began running, stupidly like a baffled tourist, after the train. I knew it had frequent stops in the downtown region and I hoped I'd be able to catch it.
I ran hard. I'm not the most athletic of people, so my running/sprinting, carrying my luggage wearing full dress clothes and, more painfully, dress shoes, was rather tiresome. But I was able to maintain a good pace. The train stopped just across one last street, with the doors open, but traffic blocked me. I looked for the first break I could, and ran. I made it to the stopped train. I was winded, but relieved. But the doors were closed. The train started moving.
I ran after it again, this time being less careful with traffic, jaywalking and probably looking very silly. After five minutes of hard running, I saw the train stop 100 yards ahead. I kept running, but knew it was hopeless. Sure enough, as I approached, the train left.
I walked the rest of the way to the train stop. I panted and wheezed as I waited the long 20 minutes for the next train. I remembered then, in that moment, failing to catch my breath, that I had athletically induced asthma that is brought on by extreme exertion. Darn it. I took off my blazer and let the cold Portland wind dry my sweat.
I needed a red train. There were only three trains, red, blue and yellow, and I hoped maybe it would come earlier. I watched a blue train stop, and then go by. I watched a yellow train stop, and then go by. The next turned the corner, and I was anxious to get moving. I watched a blue train stop, and then go by.
The fourth train was red, and I found a nice corner of the train to settle down in. The train ride was a nice reprieve. I tried to relax, but the conversation across from me was too loud to ignore. It was a group of high school girls who must have been some kind of athletes; they talked about injuries to the musculo-skeletal system as I only hope I can learn to. It was rather relaxing overall, until a group of three homeless people got on the train, sat down around me. Two of them began publicly to display their affection to one another. The third talked of nothing to nobody; nobody listened attentively.
The train pulled up to the airport terminal. I grabbed my stuff and continued the race. Running through the terminal, I paused long enough to see that my flight was indeed ON TIME at Gate A6. Another runner beside pointed out the inevitability of this particular application of Murphy's Law. I thought how fortunate I was to have an A gate; I thought I was close. I ran to the security line, an undressed as they dictated. Belt, shoes, blazer, pockets, and a ziplock full of toiletries all were put into a plastic tub an run through the X-ray machine. It was 5:27; my flight left at 5:35. I might still have time! I put my belt in my shoes, grabbed the shoes, the blazer, and the bag and ran, sock-footed towards A6.
"You forgot your change," someone with good intentions, but no knowledge of how late I was, offered.
"Keep it!" I replied, with equally good intentions.
I saw the first terminal! Hooray! Wait, no. It was B1. There it is! No, that is B2-6. I kept running. The hallway turned. Escalators...stopped up by slow people. Stairs! I quickly learned that nylon socks don't have grip on plastic stairs, and scrambled down as quickly as I could without getting killed. A1. A2. More running. A6! A plane outside with the stairs down! But where is the boarding information? Where's the attendant?
I asked where my flight was. The person working behind the counter told me she was not working. I asked another. She sounded sorry, and told me how sorry she was. "I'm so sorry," she said, "The flight must have left already."
I looked at the clock. 5:29. "I've got 5 minutes!" I insisted.
She didn't seem to believe that my affirmation of having 5 minutes would have any power in recalling the departed plane. "They must on the runway already."
For the first time, I saw the humor of my situation. I joked, "So I could still catch them on the tarmac?"
She didn't see the humor in my situation. "No... I'm sorry." She looked sympathetic. "You really tried hard!" I laughed. "Can I change your flight to 8:35?"
I sighed and agreed. I collapsed in an uncomfortable airport chair and didn't move. My attendant typed away at the keyboard arranging my new flight plan.
"There goes Oakland," said another attendant.
"I thought it left already?" said the one helping me.
I looked over at the plane I had seen. The door was still open! I got up, grabbed my bag and started for the gate. Immediately, the door was shut and the plane taxied away. I could have caught them on the tarmac. My silly joke was now a cruel irony.
"I'm sorry," my attendant said again.
She finished re-booking me and gave me my ticket. "Could you recommend anywhere to eat?" I asked. "I've got a few hours to kill."
"Stanford's has a great happy hour. You should head over there!" she replied, happy to be able to tell me good news.
I walked over to Stanford's on the other side of the airport. I found a table in the bar, looked at the happy hour menu and started getting really hungry. Running like a crazy man really works up an appetite. Earlier in the day, the medical school I interviewed at had the infinite generosity to provide me with a sandwich as a reimbursement for my two days, my hotel room, and my flight. To compound this, I had accidentally grabbed a veggie sandwich. Needless to say, I was hungry. I decided on a Caesar salad ($3) and a big bowl of soup ($2) to go with my drink. I was tempted to drink away my sorrows, but decided raspberry iced tea was a more prudent (and tasty) choice.
The waitress came and asked with a hint of sympathy, "How are ya?" I must have looked as I felt: exhausted.
I sighed and thought about the proper responses to the question. "Good" would have been most appropriate, but, "OK" was as optimistic a response as I could muster.
"Just OK?" she asked.
"Ya. Just OK. I just missed a bus, which made me miss my train, which made me miss my plane."
She decided to repeat my attendant's sentiments, "I'm sorry," and proceeded to the part I was really interested in: "What'll you have?"
The clouds were parting!
My mouth watered. "Let me start with an iced tea!" I said with a renewed vigor.
The sun broke through!
"If you want happy hour prices, you'd better order now; you've only got 2 minutes!" she recommended.
A glimmer of hope...
Another waiter, who must have known what kind of a day I was having, intent on making my day as bad as was in his power, said evily and with sinister malice, "The computer's not taking happy hour orders anymore."
Was crushed without mercy!
"Should I bring you a dinner menu?"
Alas!
Monday, March 3, 2008
Really Free Thought
I wrote the following and submitted it to the Daily Bruin Viewpoint section on Thursday, February 28. It was not published.
Reading the article by Ms. McGough entitled "Class doesn't preach, stresses the literary," on February 27, I really started thinking about the state of affairs at UCLA. The article discussed a class I was enrolled in about the Bible as literature. The professor has asked us to assume, for the sake of the class, that the Bible, "…was written by human beings in a specific historical context for human-driven purposes."
I have been successful at adopting that assumption and have done rather well in the course. I am a Christian, and I affirm that the Bible was written by humans who were inspired and guided by God; taking on a contradictory assumption has been an intriguing experience, particularly because of my familiar with the text before the class.
As a religious person, I took it upon myself to seriously investigate another viewpoint; I have chosen to think and argue like an Atheist in my papers for the course. I can read the Bible as an Atheist reads the Bible. I can argue like an Atheist. And I can do it well enough to get A's in a UCLA English course that demands it. I have done this so that I can better understand Atheists.
Thinking from another's perspective is something that I have always striven to do; it shocked me to realize that my efforts were rare enough to be newsworthy.
We like to think of ourselves as open-minded and free-thinking. We speak often of the virtue of tolerance and the goal of coexistence. I hate tolerance and I reject the notion of coexistence.
Tolerance has come to mean a cessation of fighting and an end to disagreement by means of disengagement. We can accept that those people believe differently, and we have made it our goal not to do them violence. I have not been tolerant of Atheist views of the Bible; I have become an Atheist. I have not coexisted near them; I have lived with them.
It is tragic that we have settled for tolerance and not sought understanding. We ought to do the work of engaging with others' ideas and learning exactly what it is they think. And it is hard work. It hard to honestly get to, "We agree to disagree;" it requires that you understand the other, and know precisely where and why you disagree.
Christians, have you ever thought about the world like an Atheist? Have you ever considered the vast age of the universe and the unstoppable march of the blind watchmaker, Evolution, by means of the Selfish Gene? Muslims, have you ever meditated on the wonderful love of God in his sacrifice of His incarnated Son? Atheists, have you ever stood in awe of the beautiful sunset, a precious gift from an almighty and loving Father to you?
Have you ever cared enough about another group of people to do this seriously? I'm not talking about a 5-minute thought experiment, but a serious engagement with another viewpoint. Have you ever really immersed yourself in another's worldview?
This is free thought. Coexistence is fine for warring tribes to settle on, but for the future intellectual leaders of this world, we can do better. As leaders, we should contend for intellectual integration and fight against "tolerant" attempts to keep ideas separate but equal. We ought to be an epicenter of liberal thinking and intellectual understanding. We should be open-minded enough to actually and truly open our minds to others' beliefs.
I hope that one day such intellectual maturity will be so commonplace that it will be unworthy of the front page.
Reading the article by Ms. McGough entitled "Class doesn't preach, stresses the literary," on February 27, I really started thinking about the state of affairs at UCLA. The article discussed a class I was enrolled in about the Bible as literature. The professor has asked us to assume, for the sake of the class, that the Bible, "…was written by human beings in a specific historical context for human-driven purposes."
I have been successful at adopting that assumption and have done rather well in the course. I am a Christian, and I affirm that the Bible was written by humans who were inspired and guided by God; taking on a contradictory assumption has been an intriguing experience, particularly because of my familiar with the text before the class.
As a religious person, I took it upon myself to seriously investigate another viewpoint; I have chosen to think and argue like an Atheist in my papers for the course. I can read the Bible as an Atheist reads the Bible. I can argue like an Atheist. And I can do it well enough to get A's in a UCLA English course that demands it. I have done this so that I can better understand Atheists.
Thinking from another's perspective is something that I have always striven to do; it shocked me to realize that my efforts were rare enough to be newsworthy.
We like to think of ourselves as open-minded and free-thinking. We speak often of the virtue of tolerance and the goal of coexistence. I hate tolerance and I reject the notion of coexistence.
Tolerance has come to mean a cessation of fighting and an end to disagreement by means of disengagement. We can accept that those people believe differently, and we have made it our goal not to do them violence. I have not been tolerant of Atheist views of the Bible; I have become an Atheist. I have not coexisted near them; I have lived with them.
It is tragic that we have settled for tolerance and not sought understanding. We ought to do the work of engaging with others' ideas and learning exactly what it is they think. And it is hard work. It hard to honestly get to, "We agree to disagree;" it requires that you understand the other, and know precisely where and why you disagree.
Christians, have you ever thought about the world like an Atheist? Have you ever considered the vast age of the universe and the unstoppable march of the blind watchmaker, Evolution, by means of the Selfish Gene? Muslims, have you ever meditated on the wonderful love of God in his sacrifice of His incarnated Son? Atheists, have you ever stood in awe of the beautiful sunset, a precious gift from an almighty and loving Father to you?
Have you ever cared enough about another group of people to do this seriously? I'm not talking about a 5-minute thought experiment, but a serious engagement with another viewpoint. Have you ever really immersed yourself in another's worldview?
This is free thought. Coexistence is fine for warring tribes to settle on, but for the future intellectual leaders of this world, we can do better. As leaders, we should contend for intellectual integration and fight against "tolerant" attempts to keep ideas separate but equal. We ought to be an epicenter of liberal thinking and intellectual understanding. We should be open-minded enough to actually and truly open our minds to others' beliefs.
I hope that one day such intellectual maturity will be so commonplace that it will be unworthy of the front page.
Tuesday, February 26, 2008
Henry
Two months ago on a plane to New York, I met a man named Henry. We talked pleasantries for a few minutes, but got into intense conversation rather quickly. He asked me about my research, so I showed him the pictures I had taken and described my research. It turned out that he was a scientifically-minded actor who was very impressed that I was (in his mind) actually a scientist.
God guided the conversation to spiritual things through me, and that's when things got good. I found out that he had a religious background (Episcopal), but has fallen away from the faith and had embraced atheism for the sake of reason. Most of the conversation was spent discussing his security in Atheism; I presented the rationality and defensibility of the Christian Faith.
Before parting ways, we exchanged contact information. I sent him an email when I returned, and he asked me for my mailing address. I provided this, and before I knew it, I had received a letter, handwritten and on nice stationary. He said he appreciated the conversation and it opened his eyes to the possibility of there being a God. But, in the end, he talked about how he couldn't imagine God hiding from us behind the universe.
I sent him a letter explaining that God wasn't hiding; He was everywhere. His beauty could be seen in the sunrise, the shadow of His love could be experienced in human relationships and so on. Through all this I had been praying rather hard for him, harder than I had for any other stranger I had shared my faith with.
The letter I got back blew me away. He said that he longed for my faith, that my letter was refreshing in the cynical darkness of New York. He asked honest questions about my motivation; why I did what I did in religion and life. It seemed that the Holy Spirit spoke to him in such a powerful way that he would completely change his tone. I wrote a letter back that encouraged him to stop longing for faith and just to believe.
By this time I had gotten an interview at Cornell in New York city (the medical school is in the city; the main campus is in upstate New York). I realized I would be able to see him when I went for my interview. I called him and arranged for it. I realized that with such a broken spirit, salvation was close. I prayed and even fasted for him before I left. I had all of my friends and my church praying for him.
I had arranged to meet him on Monday afternoon at 4PM. My plane got in late. His plane got in later. I had no time on Tuesday to meet because of my interview and early flight. For most of the day, I was rather upset with God for seeming to set up such a perfect opportunity to share with him and then to cancel it. I was very disgruntled as I rode the subway and then the bus to catch my flight.
Then, right before I reached the terminal, I got the burning in my belly to change my flight. I had tried to make it a later flight, but there were none on that day. I had nowhere to stay and didn't even know if he was going to be able to meet. If he was free, I didn't know where he'd be. But I did it. I changed my flight to 9AM of the following morning.
I took the bus and then the train back into the city. I decided I'd walk around Times Square until 6pm when he got off of work. With my rolling suitcase, I went through the crowded streets, in awe and disgust at the bustle and materialism of that place. I decided to stop and go to McDonalds to sit for a while. I left a message with Henry and then nursed a Mr. Pibb for half an hour. At 6:05PM, he called me. When I told him where I was, he was surprised; I just happened to be a few blocks from where he was. He walked over and met me in the McDonalds.
He recommended a diner, so we walked and talked on our way there. Upon arrival at Astro Diner, we got to the meat. Then, over the next three hours, we would discuss many things. After discussing it, he admitted that he would probably be happier as a Christian. He also said that Christianity was more rational than Atheism. Eternally, it would probably work out better for Christians than for him. He even had experienced a miracle on Good Friday when he was a believer. We discussed freewill, and he admitted that he had only the illusion of control over his life. But this was all he wanted. This was everything to him: to have the feeling that he was in control of his own life. He was willing to give up everything else for that. He compared himself to the character Cypher in "The Matrix," who knew the Matrix was a lie, but knowingly preferred the lie to the truth.
I have never had a more candid conversation with a non-believer. Never have I heard somebody who was so completely honest about their motivations and intentions. Unfortunately, his intentions were purely selfish.
We agreed to continue corresponding, and he left for home. I later made my way back to the airport and spent as much of the night as I could unconscious, hunched over a food court table.
I hope that God moves in his heart; nothing more can be done with his mind. He has no other hope for salvation.
God guided the conversation to spiritual things through me, and that's when things got good. I found out that he had a religious background (Episcopal), but has fallen away from the faith and had embraced atheism for the sake of reason. Most of the conversation was spent discussing his security in Atheism; I presented the rationality and defensibility of the Christian Faith.
Before parting ways, we exchanged contact information. I sent him an email when I returned, and he asked me for my mailing address. I provided this, and before I knew it, I had received a letter, handwritten and on nice stationary. He said he appreciated the conversation and it opened his eyes to the possibility of there being a God. But, in the end, he talked about how he couldn't imagine God hiding from us behind the universe.
I sent him a letter explaining that God wasn't hiding; He was everywhere. His beauty could be seen in the sunrise, the shadow of His love could be experienced in human relationships and so on. Through all this I had been praying rather hard for him, harder than I had for any other stranger I had shared my faith with.
The letter I got back blew me away. He said that he longed for my faith, that my letter was refreshing in the cynical darkness of New York. He asked honest questions about my motivation; why I did what I did in religion and life. It seemed that the Holy Spirit spoke to him in such a powerful way that he would completely change his tone. I wrote a letter back that encouraged him to stop longing for faith and just to believe.
By this time I had gotten an interview at Cornell in New York city (the medical school is in the city; the main campus is in upstate New York). I realized I would be able to see him when I went for my interview. I called him and arranged for it. I realized that with such a broken spirit, salvation was close. I prayed and even fasted for him before I left. I had all of my friends and my church praying for him.
I had arranged to meet him on Monday afternoon at 4PM. My plane got in late. His plane got in later. I had no time on Tuesday to meet because of my interview and early flight. For most of the day, I was rather upset with God for seeming to set up such a perfect opportunity to share with him and then to cancel it. I was very disgruntled as I rode the subway and then the bus to catch my flight.
Then, right before I reached the terminal, I got the burning in my belly to change my flight. I had tried to make it a later flight, but there were none on that day. I had nowhere to stay and didn't even know if he was going to be able to meet. If he was free, I didn't know where he'd be. But I did it. I changed my flight to 9AM of the following morning.
I took the bus and then the train back into the city. I decided I'd walk around Times Square until 6pm when he got off of work. With my rolling suitcase, I went through the crowded streets, in awe and disgust at the bustle and materialism of that place. I decided to stop and go to McDonalds to sit for a while. I left a message with Henry and then nursed a Mr. Pibb for half an hour. At 6:05PM, he called me. When I told him where I was, he was surprised; I just happened to be a few blocks from where he was. He walked over and met me in the McDonalds.
He recommended a diner, so we walked and talked on our way there. Upon arrival at Astro Diner, we got to the meat. Then, over the next three hours, we would discuss many things. After discussing it, he admitted that he would probably be happier as a Christian. He also said that Christianity was more rational than Atheism. Eternally, it would probably work out better for Christians than for him. He even had experienced a miracle on Good Friday when he was a believer. We discussed freewill, and he admitted that he had only the illusion of control over his life. But this was all he wanted. This was everything to him: to have the feeling that he was in control of his own life. He was willing to give up everything else for that. He compared himself to the character Cypher in "The Matrix," who knew the Matrix was a lie, but knowingly preferred the lie to the truth.
I have never had a more candid conversation with a non-believer. Never have I heard somebody who was so completely honest about their motivations and intentions. Unfortunately, his intentions were purely selfish.
We agreed to continue corresponding, and he left for home. I later made my way back to the airport and spent as much of the night as I could unconscious, hunched over a food court table.
I hope that God moves in his heart; nothing more can be done with his mind. He has no other hope for salvation.
Med School update
A lot has happened since last I posted. It's now 12:30AM and I should be sleeping but this entry is long overdue.
To update you all on my professional life: I interviewed for Cornell and Duke last week and it seems that medical schools are simply getting better and better. Cornell has an amazing international program where they basically pay for you to go anywhere in the world you want to. Duke actually cares about character; they have a rigorous process of interviewing for people with morals, who are humble, and who are real people. That's part of the reason why they're so good at primary care. If I got in everywhere, I don't know what I'd choose. I think I'm leaning towards Duke... but I'm always leaning for the school of my most recent interview.
I've got a bunch more in the next two weeks (UCLA, Oregon, Stanford); it'll be crazy!
To update you all on my professional life: I interviewed for Cornell and Duke last week and it seems that medical schools are simply getting better and better. Cornell has an amazing international program where they basically pay for you to go anywhere in the world you want to. Duke actually cares about character; they have a rigorous process of interviewing for people with morals, who are humble, and who are real people. That's part of the reason why they're so good at primary care. If I got in everywhere, I don't know what I'd choose. I think I'm leaning towards Duke... but I'm always leaning for the school of my most recent interview.
I've got a bunch more in the next two weeks (UCLA, Oregon, Stanford); it'll be crazy!
Wednesday, February 6, 2008
The "E" word
I have been a Christian a very long time. I have always been told that I was supposed to share my faith, but nobody told me how easy it was to start, how adventurous an endeavor it is, nor how fulfilling it can be!
I have been awakened. I have opened my eyes to a new world!
What it isn't (preface for nonchristians)
I know that some who read this may not be Christians and probably have an entirely perverted view of evangelism. You've seen 'Evangelicals' yelling about how homo-sexuals are going to hell. This is not evangelism. My experience has been that it rarely involves the four laws, though sometimes gets there. They need to be translated over the course of at least an hour for most college students. Let's take a simple "gospel" presentation as an example:
Most of you, my peers, don't believe in God (or mean something entirely different than a Christian), you don't believe in objective morality (so the word 'sin' has no meaning), you have a violent gut-reaction to needing someone else's help for anything. You probably define 'faith' as "believing something contrary to the evidence" so think that it's a silly to have it in anything. And you almost certainly believe that Jesus was a great teacher who never performed a miracle (because miracles are impossible); in your minds, he is in no way capable of anything beyond a good sermon. Each of those objections must be addressed by anyone attempting to 'evangelize'
Evangelism is in the simplest terms, sharing good news. Literally it is derived from the word from 'angel' meaning 'messenger.' I believe I am living a more effective, fulfilling and happy life because of my relationship with Jesus. It is the same kind of thing as when I tell you, "I did really well in Molecular Biology when I studied with a group; I'd recommend it." I care about you and want you to do as well as I did in the course. I don't want to 'convert' you to Study Groupism and so feel superior because I won you as a convert. I just want you to do well. The more I cared about you and the worse you were doing in the course, the more I'd try to convince you to study in a group so that you do well. It is about my concern for you, not anything selfish. The same is true of Christianity. Christ has brought me fulfillment, love and hope. I just want to share it.
I hope this explanation makes sense, but I know it probably doesn't. Evangelism is, in all likelihood, still considered by you a great evil. I assume it has to do with relativism, but I have never been able to fully understand why this doesn't make sense. I would be very happy if you could articulate your objections to me.
The rest of my account will be addressed to Christians; nonchristians read on at your own risk.
Realization #1 - It's fun and easy
There are a million ways to "share my faith." It just takes intentionality. Almost any conversation can be comfortably shifted to a spiritually fruitful one with a question or two.
For example, I was talking about FISH. "It was miraculous that FISH did what it did. And I mean that literally. Are you a big believer in miracles?" My friend responded, "For sure!" and then described a family member's miraculous recover from cancer. Then I simply asked, "So then are you a believer in God?" And it just flowed from there.
I have also realized that there are benefits of relativism. Namely, most college people believe it is a sin (or the closest atheistic equivalent) to offend you. There was a time when a person I was talking to described how unreasonable it was to condemn others. I said that I was one of those who condemned others. You wouldn't believe how fast he backpedaled.
Realization #2 - It's adventurous
It is one of the most exciting things we could ever do. It is true spiritual battle!
The times I am most alert, most humble, most passionate about prayer and most hungry for the Word are those times when I am ministering. Because it is a desperate battle for the souls of men and women. The realities of these things we have been taught are never more real: the value of the Word, the power and desperate need for prayer, and the impossibility of our fight through flesh.
It is the greatest privilege of this world. The prophets of old did not have this privilege. Jesus himself didn't. He reserved it from before time began for us, His Church!
It is true in general for Christianity and it is especially true for evangelism: Christ is the only way to jump the track and live a life that is truly free. If we do not follow the spirit, our life is determined. We know where we're headed and, like Autopia, we'll make sure that we follow the road. Our greatest rebellion is hitting the bumper and continuing on the track. The Holy Spirit gives us the chance to break free and go where He leads. We have the terrifying opportunity to trust God that our destination is good. It is no longer like a track or a trail, but cross-country, like the wind.
It doesn't stay easy. And I'd be disappointed if it did. God will eventually ask hard things and glorify Himself and us through them. But in asking hard things God is giving us a chance to really capture the adventure we desire so deeply. We pay billions of dollars to watch adventure in movies and to experience it in theme parks. Like a drug, we pay to satiate the hunger. But now we can have true adventure! We don't know how it ends, except that the good guy wins. We each can be a hero greater than Superman and an adventurer seeking a treasure greater than the Holy Grail. But being a hero and an adventurer takes courage. So man up and take the first step.
Realization #3 - It's fulfilling
There is nothing better than sharing your faith. There really isn't. As a Christian, it's the thing
we're supposed to do. It's our job. Our goal is to pursue Christ, but I really believe that direct evangelism is the physical manifestation of that. Certainly you may not have the gift now to be an evangelist, but ask for it! We're supposed to seek the greater gifts!
The great commandment is to love God and the second is to love our neighbor. The greatest thing we can ever give someone is eternal life. I have never cared for those people around me than when I am praying for their salvation. I have been so fulfilled this last month that I've seen God work in this way.
Prayer
Here is a list of people I'm praying for. If you are a Christian, please join me. If you think you see your name on this list, believe in Jesus. Once you tell me, I'll take your name off.
Matt, Anna, Melissa, Errol, Geia, Henry, Bonnie, Nathaniel, Sona, Sunny, Shirley, Sarah, Andrew, Afton
I have been awakened. I have opened my eyes to a new world!
What it isn't (preface for nonchristians)
I know that some who read this may not be Christians and probably have an entirely perverted view of evangelism. You've seen 'Evangelicals' yelling about how homo-sexuals are going to hell. This is not evangelism. My experience has been that it rarely involves the four laws, though sometimes gets there. They need to be translated over the course of at least an hour for most college students. Let's take a simple "gospel" presentation as an example:
"You were made good by God, but are now a sinner in need of redemption which you can obtain by faith in Jesus Christ."
Most of you, my peers, don't believe in God (or mean something entirely different than a Christian), you don't believe in objective morality (so the word 'sin' has no meaning), you have a violent gut-reaction to needing someone else's help for anything. You probably define 'faith' as "believing something contrary to the evidence" so think that it's a silly to have it in anything. And you almost certainly believe that Jesus was a great teacher who never performed a miracle (because miracles are impossible); in your minds, he is in no way capable of anything beyond a good sermon. Each of those objections must be addressed by anyone attempting to 'evangelize'
Evangelism is in the simplest terms, sharing good news. Literally it is derived from the word from 'angel' meaning 'messenger.' I believe I am living a more effective, fulfilling and happy life because of my relationship with Jesus. It is the same kind of thing as when I tell you, "I did really well in Molecular Biology when I studied with a group; I'd recommend it." I care about you and want you to do as well as I did in the course. I don't want to 'convert' you to Study Groupism and so feel superior because I won you as a convert. I just want you to do well. The more I cared about you and the worse you were doing in the course, the more I'd try to convince you to study in a group so that you do well. It is about my concern for you, not anything selfish. The same is true of Christianity. Christ has brought me fulfillment, love and hope. I just want to share it.
I hope this explanation makes sense, but I know it probably doesn't. Evangelism is, in all likelihood, still considered by you a great evil. I assume it has to do with relativism, but I have never been able to fully understand why this doesn't make sense. I would be very happy if you could articulate your objections to me.
The rest of my account will be addressed to Christians; nonchristians read on at your own risk.
Realization #1 - It's fun and easy
There are a million ways to "share my faith." It just takes intentionality. Almost any conversation can be comfortably shifted to a spiritually fruitful one with a question or two.
For example, I was talking about FISH. "It was miraculous that FISH did what it did. And I mean that literally. Are you a big believer in miracles?" My friend responded, "For sure!" and then described a family member's miraculous recover from cancer. Then I simply asked, "So then are you a believer in God?" And it just flowed from there.
I have also realized that there are benefits of relativism. Namely, most college people believe it is a sin (or the closest atheistic equivalent) to offend you. There was a time when a person I was talking to described how unreasonable it was to condemn others. I said that I was one of those who condemned others. You wouldn't believe how fast he backpedaled.
Realization #2 - It's adventurous
It is one of the most exciting things we could ever do. It is true spiritual battle!
The times I am most alert, most humble, most passionate about prayer and most hungry for the Word are those times when I am ministering. Because it is a desperate battle for the souls of men and women. The realities of these things we have been taught are never more real: the value of the Word, the power and desperate need for prayer, and the impossibility of our fight through flesh.
It is the greatest privilege of this world. The prophets of old did not have this privilege. Jesus himself didn't. He reserved it from before time began for us, His Church!
Truly, truly, I say to you, whoever believes in me will also do the works that I do; and greater works than these will he do, because I am going to the Father.
- John 14:12
It is true in general for Christianity and it is especially true for evangelism: Christ is the only way to jump the track and live a life that is truly free. If we do not follow the spirit, our life is determined. We know where we're headed and, like Autopia, we'll make sure that we follow the road. Our greatest rebellion is hitting the bumper and continuing on the track. The Holy Spirit gives us the chance to break free and go where He leads. We have the terrifying opportunity to trust God that our destination is good. It is no longer like a track or a trail, but cross-country, like the wind.
The wind blows where it wishes, and you hear its sound, but you do not know where it comes from or where it goes. So it is with everyone who is born of the Spirit.
- John 3:8
It doesn't stay easy. And I'd be disappointed if it did. God will eventually ask hard things and glorify Himself and us through them. But in asking hard things God is giving us a chance to really capture the adventure we desire so deeply. We pay billions of dollars to watch adventure in movies and to experience it in theme parks. Like a drug, we pay to satiate the hunger. But now we can have true adventure! We don't know how it ends, except that the good guy wins. We each can be a hero greater than Superman and an adventurer seeking a treasure greater than the Holy Grail. But being a hero and an adventurer takes courage. So man up and take the first step.
Realization #3 - It's fulfilling
There is nothing better than sharing your faith. There really isn't. As a Christian, it's the thing
we're supposed to do. It's our job. Our goal is to pursue Christ, but I really believe that direct evangelism is the physical manifestation of that. Certainly you may not have the gift now to be an evangelist, but ask for it! We're supposed to seek the greater gifts!
The great commandment is to love God and the second is to love our neighbor. The greatest thing we can ever give someone is eternal life. I have never cared for those people around me than when I am praying for their salvation. I have been so fulfilled this last month that I've seen God work in this way.
Prayer
Here is a list of people I'm praying for. If you are a Christian, please join me. If you think you see your name on this list, believe in Jesus. Once you tell me, I'll take your name off.
Matt, Anna, Melissa, Errol, Geia, Henry, Bonnie, Nathaniel, Sona, Sunny, Shirley, Sarah, Andrew, Afton
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