A Blessed Invasion

Excerpt from my book The Myth of Happiness

A Coke bottle drops from the sky. That’s the surprising introduction to modern society that a bushman gets as he walks through the Kalahari Desert in the 1980 screwball comedy The Gods Must Be Crazy. In the film, the bushman isn’t sure what to make of a bottle falling from a passing airplane, and so he concludes that it must be a gift from the gods. After he takes it back to his tribe, together they try to figure out what to do with it. A musical instrument. A fire starter. Perhaps a cooking utensil. But in the end, they give up. Thinking the gift is more trouble than it is worth, the bushman goes on a journey across the desert to return the bottle to the gods.

All my life, I viewed joy as something like that Coke bottle. It descended unexpectedly from the heavens and fell into my world. And like the bushman, I had been puzzled my whole life about what to make of the gift. I tried various ways to mold it into something I could understand and work with. But when my dumbed-down versions of joy let me down, the whole experience became disillusioning. In my mind, God must be crazy for making the kind of promises that he does.

I became determined to shed my pidgin understanding of joy once and for all. Over the years, I’d studied various passages in the Bible that deal with joy. I probably even led a Bible study or two on the subject. But I wanted to look again at the Scriptures in light of joy and see what I had always been missing.
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A Blessed Invasion

A Coke bottle drops from the sky. That’s the surprising introduction to modern society that a bushman gets as he walks through the Kalahari Desert in the 1980 screwball comedy The Gods Must Be Crazy. In the film, the bushman isn’t sure what to make of a bottle falling from a passing airplane, and so he concludes that it must be a gift from the gods. After he takes it back to his tribe, together they try to figure out what to do with it. A musical instrument. A fire starter. Perhaps a cooking utensil. But in the end, they give up. Thinking the gift is more trouble than it is worth, the bushman goes on a journey across the desert to return the bottle to the gods.

All my life, I viewed joy as something like that Coke bottle. It descended unexpectedly from the heavens and fell into my world. And like the bushman, I had been puzzled my whole life about what to make of the gift. I tried various ways to mold it into something I could understand and work with. But when my dumbed-down versions of joy let me down, the whole experience became disillusioning. In my mind, God must be crazy for making the kind of promises that he does. Read more at Zondervan.com

Originally posted on Digitalwalk.net

Deleted Scene #2: My Failed Analogy

While I was writing The Myth of Happiness, I struggled to come up with an strong analogy to differentiate between “joy” and “expressions of joy”. I developed an idea that I thought keenly expressed, in real world terms, the fundamental difference between the two ideas. But, try as I might, I simply could not get the analogy into language that was easy to understand. It was too geeky. So, in the final manuscript, I pulled this idea in place of a second that was far more appropriate. However, I still believe, if you can get past all the geek talk, the following analogy can shed light on the nature of joy. I’ll share it here as my book’s equivalent of a “deleted scene”. Rest assured, this is not the sort of stuff that actually made it in the book.

In the computer world, programmers distinguish between two things that they call objects and instances. An object defines how part of a software program, such as a web page or an email message, behaves and looks like on the screen. An instance is an “expression” or “manifestation” of that object; it’s the thing you and I click on with our mouse when we run the software. So, to put it simply, a programmer defines objects in his code; users of the program don’t interact directly with these underlying objects, but instances of those objects. To illustrate, an object is the logic of displaying any web page, while an instance is one particular web page you are looking at.

The distinction between joy and expressions of joy is much like this computer programming example. Joy lives inside of the spirit of a believer, but is revealed through our emotions or states of mind. However, note the difference: these outward manifestations – delight, contentment, and gladness – are not the same as joy itself. Joy is the divine substance underneath.

Not only does this programming illustration help describe the difference between joy and the ways in which it surfaces in our lives, but it also helps explain why joy doesn’t seem to last long. In the software world, objects are a permanent part of the program, while instances last only when the program is running at a given point in time. So, when you turn off the computer, the object buried inside the program’s code is still on your hard drive. But the instance of that object goes away. Later, when you reopen the program again, you are actually working with a new instance of the same underlying object. In much the same way, expressions of joy may not last for long in our lives. Elijah, for instance, can rejoice in the mighty power of God on Mount Carmel on one day, and yet cowardly run and hide into the desert the next. Me too. I can be on a spiritual mountain top after a great worship service. But, my elation crashes and burns after I get into a fender bender on the way home. Joyful expressions can come and go quickly, but the joy flowing through our bloodstream never leaves us.

Originally posted on Digitalwalk.net

Deleted Scene #1: Heaven Wannabes

Can we create a heaven on earth? Here’s some thoughts I had on this issue that seemed a bit too “academic sounding” to include in The Myth of Happiness, but I thought I’d post here as a sort of “deleted scene” from my book:

I am struck that, ever since the fall of Adam and Eve, people have always been trying to create heaven on earth. A utopia in which every individual is happy and content. Philosopher Gottfried Wilhelm Leibniz argued, “The most perfect society is that whose purpose is the universal and supreme happiness.”

Karl Marx’s socialism promised satisfaction for the masses through social and economic equality. But, looking back on the carnage of communist regimes, socialism was only able to produce unhappy, drab societies.

So too, the age of science proposed a perfect world through technological progress. But, scientific advancements have done little more than complicate our lives and let us anesthetize the problems that science can’t solve.

What’s more, the “free love” movement of the 1960s claimed newfound sexual freedom, but only produced joyless, unfulfilled Baby Boomers instead.

It’s not just non-believers either. The church historically tended to focus on earthly happiness at the expense of God’s plans. Even back in the early 19th century, French historian Alexis de Tocqueville observed this tendency. He wrote in his classic work Democracy in America, “Preachers in America are continually coming down to earth. Indeed they find it difficult to take their eyes off it…It is often difficult to be sure when listening to them whether the main object of religion is to [obtain joy] in the next world or prosperity in this.”

Sadly, I see the same thing cropping up today. In order to be relevant to the postmodern world, many church movements focus on happiness, earthly satisfaction, and personal fulfillment. I am reminded of driving down I-25 in Englewood, Colorado years ago. Right beside the highway was a sign for “The Happy Church”, complete with a big yellow smiley face painted on the side of the building. Not to be outdone, some Christians go further and proclaim the so-called “health and wealth gospel”; they believe that God will always reward his faithful with good health and riches. The truth is that any teaching preoccupied with the here and now will replace joy with happiness as a central tenant of the faith.

But, when I leave out God of my utopian plans or pack too much earth into my theology, the result is a dead-end street. “All [happiness] begins pleasantly,” Thomas a Kempis once said, “But at the end it gnaws and kills.” Joy is the missing link to these heaven-wannabes.

Originally posted on Digitalwalk.net