Pooh’s Think

Dr. Peter Leithart is the Cambridge trained theologian of the Kirk, operating ‘out of bounds’ as a PCA minister. Leithart now heads the New St. Andrew’s College’s new graduate program after performing for years as a foundational faculty member. I had mentored with Leithart the year or so previous to the launch of Pooh’s Think, Part 1, and he was a friend. He had always been kind to me and in fact is the only ‘Kirker’ who ever showed a sincere desire to listen to me once Father Wilson included me among his local enemies. Leithart even set up meetings between Wilson and myself that he moderated, after explaining he was sympathetic “to both sides.” During the meetings, he was quick to interrupt Wilson but he always allowed me to speak my mind.  Leithart offered no protest even when I offered Wilson some ferocious interrogating questioning over the ‘Letter without Signatures,’ which was an important embarrassment of the Kirk’s just after she began her bullying of me.  This was truly, on one level, the tyrant having to submit to a balance of power in order for the dissenting, minority voice of the weak to get a hearing.

 

Today I recalled something I learned about the working of my unconscious mind just after the launch of Pooh’s Think, Part 1, and I owe this revelation to Leithart. Informal coffee at a local shop was Leithart’s traditional preference for meetings, but his first approach to this post-poohsthink era was marked by a greeter degree of formality than was custom. I met Leithart in his office at New St. Andrew’s College and not too far along into the meeting it became evident to me that he was offering a mild form of gracious interrogation. He was to ask me questions, and I was to answer. He asked me a question about homosexuality and emergent theology. Perhaps not fully satisfied by my answer, he followed up by asking if homosexuality is “wrong.”  “Yes,” I answered. I had been defending emergent Brian McLaren and others from libelous, irrational attacks from the Kirk – all generated by anti-homosexual rhetoric – and so I suppose there was a suspicion I had become a bit ’squishy’ on the issue.

 

I remember how odd it was to sit there in this environment and feel no emotion of any kind.  I self-monitored my level of agitation and heart rate.  I was more than calm. I was about ready to fall asleep by a combination of boredom and exhaustion (the blasts, clinched fists, and shrieks of the new blog war could not be heard from Leithart’s monastic chamber).  I really did not know why I was even there meeting with Leithart. I did not care what I was asked and had no rhetorical purpose.  I was happy to answer any question in perfect sincerity and truth.  I had nothing to hide and I felt not the slightest bit of defensiveness as I sat there, half-numb, answering the questions.

 

The questioning led to me talking a bit.  I was talking about Wilson’s war against the community – I had already conceptualized it as precisely that.  I mentioned my concern about how we were treating our local neighbors and noted it was the opposite of Jesus’ ministry.  But just then I began to cry.  Crying turned into a bit of ginger weeping and I could not stop.  Leithart kindly got up and closed the blinds, hiding me from the public side-walk just outside his large window. 

 

I was not necessarily in doubt of what the main driving force was during those early days of dissent, but I was also skeptical of what underlying motives might have been lurking in the background.  The stark change in emotional reaction during this meeting with Leithart confirmed that at least a significant motivation was one that I was willing to defend as self-justifying in the face of any coming retaliatory abuse.  This was a helpful probe into the workings of my unconscious mind, and as startled as I was by the probe’s effect, it was not difficult to considered it just that on the spot. I did not enjoy breaking down in tears in front of Leithart over what seemed to be almost nothing, but the violent change of emotions over this singular issue was enough to confirm I had some of the right kind of fuel to propel me into what was coming (I would not have dared guess at that time I would have what it took to propel all the way through it and remain alive).

 

The occasion of this remembrance was a speech I read today for the second time  by Nathan Phelps (my thanks to Edward Babinski  for the notification).  Phelps grew up under the authority of a man, his father Fred Phelps, who has become internationally famous for following out certain implications of his reformed Baptist convictions. With an ever expanding gospel vision, Fred Phelps’ GodHatesFags.com  has blossomed into GodHatestheWorld.com  The striving  of Fred Phelps against his own local community, as described in this speech by Nathan Phelps, in many respects reminds me of Wilson’s war against, Moscow, his own small town in north Idaho.  (it is, by the way, pronounced ‘Mos-coe’ not ‘Mos-cow’).

 

The abuse Nathan Phelps saw as a young child within his own household – against him, his siblings, and his mother – is certainly nothing I have ever experienced, yet there are many astounding similarities in our two narratives.  Please read Phelp’s speech,  which offers a moving narrative of not only his childhood, but the long intellectual battle that was to follow PTSD and his confusing encounters with the ecumenical evangelical world years after running away from home, getting married, and having two children. Here is some of what Phelps said towards the end of his speech that I find of particular interest:

 

At night I worried and fretted.  Sleepless, anxious hours passed as I played violent confrontations with my father over and over in my mind. . .

 

Exposure to mainstream Christianity was creating conflicts and raising questions that sent me in search of answers.  I found a counselor with a theological as well as psychiatric degree, and spent 9 months working with him.  He gave me dozens of books that explained the “right” way to understand and interpret the bible. . . .

 

By day, I took on a role as an outspoken apologist for Christianity; but in the quiet hours, late at night, doubts festered. . . .

 

In the early 1990’s, a renowned scientist came to speak in Garden Grove. The Primordial Ooze theory about the origin of life on earth had gained some attention.  He was there to rebut it, prove that evolution was false, and the truth of god’s existence.  I was truly excited to have the chance to hear from such an intelligent man.  His speech ended up a mind numbing discussion about testing he had done that disproved the Primordial Ooze hypothesis.  He then launched into a testimonial about how god had worked in his heart and then casually dismissed the theory of evolution, suggesting that Scientists might as well argue that life on earth was planted here by aliens.   I was stunned by his presentation.  Here was a man of learning who must understand things at a different level then me.  If anyone would have logical, rational explanations of biblical truth, and how they applied to the real world, it would surely be him.  Yet he was reduced to unverifiable claims of personal experiences, and ad hominum attacks against the scientific community.. . .

 

Meanwhile, my depression deepened, and I went back into counseling.  This time, I was diagnosed with PTSD, and my counselor convinced me to check myself in to a mental health facility.  After 2 weeks there, I left believing that there was no cure – only avoidance of things that would trigger it.  I returned to church and bible study.  One day I approached two of my closest friends from the church.  I told them that I was struggling with my faith, which I wasn’t sure I believed any longer. They were stunned into silence.  In the following months, I watched as they gradually pulled away from me. I would get no answers there.

. . .   Tyler [one of his sons] asked me a question about Jesus, and I decided I would explain the Gospel to them once and for all.  Intensely aware of the fear it had evoked in me, I carefully told them the story.  Explaining the beauty of heaven for all believers, Tyler interrupted, asking about the people who didn’t believe.  Well, I blundered in explaining that the bible says they go to a place called hell which I believed meant outside the presence of god. 

“How long?” His young mind wondered. 

“Well…the bible says eternity”, I answered. 

“How long is that?” He asked.

 “Forever” I said.

My little boy burst into tears, and immediately I recalled images of myself crying in a church pew as I listened to my father preach about hell and eternity.

“I don’t want to go to hell…I want to believe in God”, he insisted.

Soon Hayley and Hunter joined in with their tears and as I drove them home I brushed away a few of my own.

At home, I told my wife that I wouldn’t subject them to any more religion.  They would be exposed to religion if and when they made that decision themselves.

My duty was to teach them to think critically and that was it.  From that point forward I challenged my children every time they came home spouting whatever popular rhetoric they heard at school.  I played devil’s advocate, constantly forcing them to think through their arguments.

The next 10 years marked a transition for me. . . .

I was reading books about how our brains work, how genetic coding explains so much human behavior, and about the foundation of all these new discoveries – evolution. 

I was struck by the outcry against these ideas from the religious community.  The impossible standard of proof that they were demanding of science while refusing to subject their own belief to ANY standard of proof.  . . .

 

I happened upon Michael Shermer’s book, The Science of Good & Evil. For the first time, as I read the book, I had this powerful sense that I had finally found someone who thought the way I did.   As I raved about the arguments in his book, my wife scowled, my mother-in-law fretted, and my best friend assured me that embracing his arguments was just a reaction to my childhood experiences.  I got that argument a lot as I pulled away from Christianity – that the only reason I was questioning it was because of the tortured notion of God I was raised with.

I do not accept that argument.

Certainly my childhood experiences could be said to have provided strong motivation for me to seek answers, but ultimately any theory or idea must stand on its own, exclusive of who presents it.  In my searching, I have arrived at the opinion that Christianity has an unblemished record of utterly failing every legitimate scientific challenge to its claims since Galileo peered into the night sky.

. . .   In July of that year I met a young lady named Angela.  She had the nerve to question my assumptions.  Even worse, she had the audacity to insist that I question my own.  She had an intoxicating mixture of intelligence and independent thought.  She challenged me at every turn, and refused to accept an argument without a logical defense.  Most important, she forced me to communicate.

In December of 2005, a failed marriage behind me, I moved to Canada to be with Angela.  The first day there, sitting in a chair in her kitchen as she scurried about adding ingredients to some dish she was making, I plunged once more into a dungeon of dark despair.  Glancing up, she saw the pain on my face.  She dropped what she was doing and came to me. She placed her hands on my face and said “Don’t do that…don’t go to that place of fear and guilt.  Talk to me!”

It was a simple idea, a novel idea, and a profound moment for me. . . .

You can read Nathan’s reactions before and after the speech here.

See an excerpt from Nate’s upcoming book here.

Posted by metzler on Sunday, May 3, 2009, at 7:53 pm.
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2 Comments »

1. A little confused here, Michael. Are you saying that Dr. Leithart’s kids are going to fall away like Phelps’?

    

   Comment by Gordon — May 4, 2009 @ 3:46 am

    

2. Gordon,

   I am not sure what I said to suggest that. This was a stream of consciousness post. But to continue the stream: your comment reminds me of the time that Wilson sent out a letter to all the ‘head of household’ meetings noting that one of Leithart’s sons had gotten himself in a little bit of trouble with some minor rowdiness of some sort. Wilson warned that Leithart would be in jeopardy of losing his positions in the Kirk if one of his children was found to be unruly.

   Leithart has been the most likely source of rival power for Wilson – as evidenced in this entry – and so this was a shrewd move to make. It either would forecast a successful relieving of Leithart’s duty, thus confirming Wilson’s prophet-like status in the Kirk, or else it just showed the kind of political power Wilson’s priestly/moral standing in the Kirk had over even his potential political rival.

    

   Comment by metzler — May 4, 2009 @ 3:14 pm

    

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