I've moved!

New address for this blog: coultart.com/trevor.

Yes, in the excitement of opening up this blog to whatever takes my fancy I've got carried away and found it a new home. The chances are you'll be taken straight there (in which case you won't see this post, but that depends on how you got here!) but if there's anyone out there who has this in their favourites or on a feed reader you'll need to update to coultart.com/trevor to see any future posts.

See you there!

Showtime?

To audition or not to audition; that is the question.

No, not Shakespeare; Hitchin Thespians are putting on a production of Calamity Jane and I had missed the original audition date so thought I'd be extending my break for another year. (My last show with them was Thoroughly Modern Millie last spring, just before my son was born.)

But on Friday I happened to bump into the production secretary who told me there was a principal part still not cast for which I might be well suited, and there are auditions on Wednesday night. Sounds like there will be two of us auditioning...

A bigger picture

A change is afoot. Frustrated with myself for the infrequency of my posting here, I've decided to widen the scope of this blog. From now on it will no longer be solely focused on my spiritual life (or lack thereof) but will be an open book for anything an everything I fancy wittering on about. I hope that thoughts of God will still crop up. If they don't then I guess that might say something about where I'm at.

For now, all I'm going to do is invite you to take a look at the photos from our recent trip to the Lake District by clicking here. Or, if you prefer, here. It's entirely up to you.

"Thou shalt not covet..."

Ah, Jealousy. Not the most becoming of characteristics, and certainly - I understand - not a particularly Christian one.

But today at work I had no choice to tell a colleague that I was "insanely jealous".

He's just bought an iPhone.

ASBO Jesus

If you've not discovered ASBO Jesus yet, I'd strongly encourage you to pop in and have a look. Jon posts a new cartoon every day about some aspect of faith or church (or just life in general) and they're always succinct, witty, and thought-provoking. They also prompt a lively discussion in the comments section, which usually gives you even more to think about.

Yesterday's cartoon especially apt for me:

A place for me

Where do I belong? I call myself a Christian, because I am one. But unlike a younger me, I'm now openly agnostic about it. (My profile on Facebook currently describes my religious views as "Agnostic Christian. Or is it Christian Agnostic - I can never make up my mind".) I have no feeling that I should be leaving the church, as it's somewhere I feel at home. Or at least, as 'at home' as I do anywhere else; I've always had that vague sense of "not fitting in" wherever I've been. But is there a sense in which I'm deceiving (that word again) myself and others by staying? I hope not.

While I was away over Easter (which I guess is as good a time to think about faith as any other) I picked up a wee book at my mother-in-law's: Why Belief by Richard Holloway. The bulk of the book was okay, touching on things such as that all human relationships are dependent on trust and that we do, in day to day life, accept all manner of things without being completely certain about their reliability of accuracy. Good stuff, but nothing really special. He referred to the difference between "belief that", which requires no commitment by ourselves, and "belief in", which does. Again, interesting but not much more. But his closing section really seemed significant to me. Or at least, to the question I posed at the start of this post. It's a lot to type, but I'm going to quote it in full:

But what about those who cannot believe?
Many of us may not recognise ourselves in any of this. We may be too hesitant and tentative to describe ourselves as believers, yet we are strangely drawn to the life of faith and wish we could own it for ourselves. Communities of faith should be big enough to include people like this, because the human experience of belief describes a wide spectrum that ranges from the ecstasy of the saint to the fumblings of the non-believer who longs to believe. The best and most generous of communities of faith will recognise and allow for these realities. The best wisdom in the search for faith is to find out what we already believe and start there.

Rose Macauly, the English novelist, in her own constant wrestlings with faith, used to talk about an interchange of experience between hope, faith, and belief. She spent a lot of time hoping it might be true; some time trusting, having faith that it was true, and the occasional moments of firm belief that it was. It was important for her to be able to bring all these phases of her own heart and mind with her into the church, and fortunately she found that the Church of England was big enough to let her do this.

There are many rooms in the household of faith and there is quite a lot of movement between them. being the kind of creatures we are, prone to self-defeat and cynicism, it is important to take some step, no matter how tiny. Sometimes it is a matter of nuance, of detail, a placing of slightly more emphasis on one aspect of our complicated life that another, a whispered yes to faith and a whispered no to cynicism. Many people stay with the whisper of faith throughout their lives, longing for that fullness of belief they see, admire and are nourished by in others. They, too, have a valued place in the community of faith and Thomas speaks for them: "Lord, we believe; help thou our unbelief."

On an somewhat separate note, my minister Dave has corrected me about something. In a previous post I suggested that I partly blame him for setting me off on my path of questioning my faith. As he rightly pointed out, the appropriate word is that I should credit him for doing so.

An Easter Image

Albert Einstein

Sent to me by a friend...

"As a child I received instruction both in the Bible and in the Talmud. I am a Jew, but I am enthralled by the luminous figure of the Nazarene....No one can read the Gospels without feeling the actual presence of Jesus. His personality pulsates in every word. No myth is filled with such life."

Albert Einstein, physicist and professor (1879-1955)

And my friend's own comments:

"I think Einstein hits the kernel of the man. The other prophets of whatever ilk all sound a bit loopy, and either people of their political time or like a novel. Christ does sound very human and quite down to earth. Who else would have sounded the toll of despair in the final act of life..."why hast thou deserted me?" unless he were real? (True, the reprise after death seems like some theatrical afterthought by chroniclers trying to save the day.)"

Conversations

As well as posting here to think about my spiritual journey - indeed, more importantly than posting here - I'm trying to take time to talk to people. Friends especially, but also family, even the occasional colleague or stranger. And this week one of my best friends, who's read some of my posts here and with whom I've exchanged a few emails since, asked me how I'm getting on. I've not answered yet; perhaps when I've managed to put a few thoughts down here I'll send him the link by way of an answer.

The trouble is, although I've had a few interesting conversations that have felt useful and productive at the time, I'm rubbish at remembering much of the detail afterwards. I really should get responses recorded sooner after the event - if only to help me remember. Here would be the ideal place, I guess. For now, I'll see what I can recap...

Prayer partners: Bob and Simon are two very dear friends and we meet weekly to pray about whatever comes up in our conversations. (Our church advocates such "Prayer Triplets".) They've been among the first I've spoken to about my doubts and I'm quite open with them about the fact that although I'm praying with them I have no real feeling that we're necessarily communicating with God, and that when we pray we might, in fact, simply be talking to ourselves. (In fact, one thing I have decided is to be as open as I can with anyone I talk to, especially in the church. I don't want to play pretend.)

A few weeks ago we were thinking about what difference it would make to my life if I were to decide that Christianity is all a fallacy and I should have no more to do with it. Do you know, I couldn't think of much. I guess I'd have some spare time, but that wasn't the issue. The conversation focused on morals and values, and I'm fairly sure that there'd no reason mine would change greatly without my faith. Does that mean I'm a moral person at heart? Or simply that my current moral values have been shaped by twenty-five years' exposure to Christian values? We've also wondered how I would feel if I were to ultimately conclude that it was all a fallacy. My response: I think I'd be embarrassed, to have potentially wasted such a long part of my life on it.

And then a couple of weeks ago, Simon and I were thinking about the the value of defining questions more clearly and whether to expect clearly defined answers (something I've mentioned here before, in the comments to this post). I said that I'd long ago decided that there was probably nothing that was black and white, but that everything was merely shades of grey. His immediate reaction was that there must be some matters that are black and white, specifically, either God exists or he doesn't. But then we got speculating. Are we not traditionally content to accept various quirks of God's existence that we can't explain purely in terms of human understanding? That he exists outside of time, for example, is pretty hard to comprehend. The trinity. Three and one at the same time? What the heck's that all about? (I'm told that St Francis wrote thirteen volumes on the trinity and his work can easily be summarised as "we have no idea what this means".) Anyway, we concluded - no, that's too strong a word, we speculated - that it's possible that God might well exist and not exist all at the same time. A cop out? Maybe, but a good one.

My minister: Last week I met up at lunchtime with my own minister, who is very much someone who lives in the real world and not one of those clergy who you feel has no idea what life's about. (Actually, I've not met many clergy who fit that stereotype, but I'm sure they're out there somewhere.) Dave is one of the most real and down-to-earth people I know, and I respect him greatly. I also partly blame him for where I find myself: it was a comment of his a few years ago from the pulpit that really got me seriously questioning my beliefs in the first place. Maybe he should check his job description. We talked quite deeply about a few things, but this is the conversation that I really wish I'd written about straight away. I can recall that we talked about certain things: the nature of truth, and its relationship with faith and hope; whether the search for God and the search for truth are the same thing; whether the bible, despite all its problems, is authoritative and reliable, but for the life of me I can't remember many details of the discussions.

I do recall that years ago he mentioned that his position - his training, reading and experience - doesn't necessarily give him answers: it just gives him better questions. I liked that when I first heard it. I still do, but also wonder whether this is not also just a cop-out to some extent; Surely there must be some answers somewhere.

In terms of the God Delusion and its ilk, Dave held up his hands like a pair of scales and alluded to reason on one hand and faith on the other. Some people put too much emphasis on reason, at the expense of faith. Others do the opposite. Both groups get themselves in a mess as a result: the important thing is to keep a balance.

My Best Friend: Another Dave, I'm afraid, so confusing if I refer to one or the other in future. I've known Dave since my earliest days as a Christian, and we got to know one another in various church youth groups and the like. We were each best man at the other's wedding and he is Godfather to my son - although I can't help but notice that he appears to have forgotten his first birthday this week. ;o) He is also now a C of E vicar, having been ordained in a grand ceremony (rather too grand for my liking) in Exeter Cathedral last year.

We've not really spoken about this much, but he's been prompting me by email in response to an earlier post and I'm sure we'll have have an ongoing correspondence. He's asked what kind of "proof of God's existence" I'd be looking for. A fair question, as I've said that one of my questions is "does God exist?". But I think I know that "proof" is not quite the right word. I'm after some kind of assurance that it's not all been in vain. But a more salient question of his is this: Sounds like you've realised that your faith is staggering. Question is what do you want to do about it? Well, sorry Dave but I'm not sure I'm in the right place to answer that just now. Surely what I 'want' is going to depend on what I find along the way. I'm not going to say "I want to conclude that my faith is a load of rubbish and I'd rather be shot of it" because that would be (a) not representative of what I'm feeling and (b) rather too big a jump to make from where I am. But conversely I can't possibly say "I want to confirm the truth of my faith and I want it to be like X (insert relevant details here)". Either option would be presupposing what conclusions I might me aiming for, like a drug company paying for research "hoping" to prove the effectiveness of their own drug. What I want, if I am able to put it into words, is to find out which is true and live my life accordingly.

Mormons: Fret not, friends, I am not about to be poached by our Mormon brothers, but I've had a couple of chats with the two rather charming elders that often patrol the high street, and have read their "plan of salvation" leaflet, in which they assured me with absolute conviction I would find the truth. The reason I include them here is this: as I read their leaflet, which gives a synopsis of the Mormon theology, I found myself thinking "what a bizarre set of beliefs". The question is why do I find my own, slightly more orthodox, beliefs any less bizzare. Dawkins gives a brilliant summary of core Christian beliefs and outlines them in such a way that anyone would react to them in the same way I did to the Mormon stuff. So what's the difference?

Enough for now. I've also started to chat to my brother Russel, who was one of those who got me to read Dawkins in the first place, and a couple of colleagues but this post is far, far too long already and it's far, far too late to continue just now. More may follow.

(In case you're wondering, yes I have finished Darwin's Angel. I'll write little more about it as soon as I can remember what it said. Perhaps.)

Loving God

I like what Kez says here. I don't agree with every word (does all of "I search for God, yearn for God, long for God, have a deep need for God" really apply to me, for example?) but it still manages to express something of where I feel I am.

In good company

Andy has been kind enough to have added me to his list of Baptist Bloggers. (Well, I did ask him to.) I thought I ought to see what kind of company I find myself in, so I've just spend a short while looking at recent posts by the others. Most seem to be pretty theological - which generally means they go over my head pretty much (Andy himself regularly reviews books whose titles I don't even understand) - but there's also a fair range of stuff of interest to those of us on the "shop-floor", as it were.

Perhaps reading a mixture of thoughts from a variety of bloggers will help me to formulate some ideas. Or at least it might keep me off the streets.

Darwin's Angel: initial thoughts

Any concerns I had about this being "unbearably twee", as I mentioned initially, were most certainly unfounded. It is beautifully written, intelligent, witty and profound prose and I am very glad to have picked it up.

Inevitably there are those who slate it; when I said the online reviews I'd found had been pretty positive I hadn't yet seen those on RichardDawkins.net!

Finished at last

Has it really been nearly three months since I posted here? You must be wondering what on earth I've been up to. Well, you would be if you existed, but I don't suppose anyone actually reads this.

Anyway, I finally finished The God Delusion. Richard Dawkins’ avowed intention is that “religious people who read this book would finish it as atheists”. So, has it worked? Am I a convert?

Not entirely.

There’s no doubt, though, that his book has left me with big questions. I’m not going to lay the blame for my doubts on Dawkins, but I can’t get away from the fact that the part of me that was beginning to question my long-held beliefs has been given plenty of ammunition. If you want a text book of Bad Things That Have Been Done In The Name Of God, read the God Delusion. Actually, I’d recommend it to anyone as a fascinating and intensely thought-provoking read.

It is entirely one-sided, however, and it has had some criticism on the strength of its logic and the gaps in its arguments, so as I mentioned previously I’ve been on the look-out for something to read afterwards to re-balance things. I’ve had a few suggestions; the obvious ones are those that have been written in direct response: Alistair McGrath’s The Dawkins Delusion and Andrew Wilson’s Deluded by Dawkins? but when I’ve looked at reviews online both books have been pretty well slated. I may pick one up at some point, but want something different at the moment. And then, while searching online last week, a title appeared that I did like the look of.

Darwin’s Angel by John Cornwell appears to take a rather different approach, calling itself “An Angelic Riposte” to Dawkins’ book, and written as a series of letters to Dawkins from Charles Darwin’s "guardian angel". Now, I'm prepared for the fact that it could be unbearably twee, but the online reviews are much more promising. I particularly liked this extract from the reviewer in the Times:

This book is a piece of sheer heaven. It kicks Richard Dawkins' self-aggrandising polemic, The God Delusion, into touch with featherlight footwork and is deliciously wise, witty and intellectually sharp into the bargain.

I picked it up from the library today. I’ll let you know.