The following video clip by Francis Chan was emailed to me a couple of weeks back and has had me thinking.
Chan is doing a few things here, among them promoting his new book and tip-toeing into the fray over the Rob Bell "Love Wins" book. But his main point is that we need more humility when doing our theologizing. He quotes Isaiah 55, Yahweh says "my ways are not your ways and my thoughts are not your thoughts." If you take a look at the Isaiah passage there are very strong allusions to God's response to Job in the concluding chapters of that book, where God says in essence "who are you, puny mortal, to question me?" Chan's message in the video reminds me of a memorable line from C.S. Lewis' Narnia books, which warns that while the lion Aslan is good "he's not a tame lion."
One of the things I value most about my faith and specifically about the bible is that it very often challenges me. God demands things I don't always like, and forgives people I don't always think should be granted grace. The bible is full of stuff that quite beyond not understanding, I understand quite well but do not like what I understand! To swing briefly into more abstract and philosophical language, I value my faith and the central book of my faith in large part because in them I encounter a God who is truly "other" and not simply a projection of my own ego.
Yet when I finished watching the above video I was left with a sense that something was missing. The conclusion seemed a little to glib, a slightly more nuanced version of the saying I heard in some churches growing up that "the bible says it, that settles it for me." Granted God is God and I am a mere mortal, his ways are much higher than my own, but as someone looking for truth and goodness in a confusing world with many voices claiming authority this sentiment is not very helpful.
You say, "God is so much greater than you, who are you to judge his choices or actions?" And I wonder, "which "god" is claiming this, and why should I listen to this one and not another?" There are plenty to chose from; so how can I make my way?
Furthermore, there is a part of me that would rather curse and rebel against a demonic and unjust god than worship such a deity, no matter how real or powerful. At the end of the day the above argument is a pious variation on the assertion that "might makes right."
In our culture perhaps the biggest question that people have about God is that of trust: can I trust a God who let me be abused as a child? Can I trust a God who has followers who do terrible things? Can I trust God to forgive me when I cannot forgive myself? All of these questions are not questions about the reality of God, the existence of God, or some other abstract agnosticism--they are much more visceral and personal questions. The hearts of many people today are in essence saying, "even if God exists and Jesus and the bible are true, do I want to follow that kind of God?"
The missing element to Chan's message is trust. In my own quest for truth and goodness this has become a guiding theme--I follow Jesus because at the end of the day I trust him. Sometimes I have followed him out of habit, sometimes out of love, sometimes for other reasons, but I have followed him long enough now to know that I trust him. The ancient Hebrews would encourage each other to "taste and experience that Yahweh is good" (Psalms 34:8, my paraphrase). When I struggle to understand why God allows something or why he allows such unlovable people to be called by his name I find myself coming back to this trust that I have experienced. When I am at my wits end and cannot make my way on my own, I trust him to lead me. He's not a tame lion, but I trust him even when his claws are out and my heart feels the terror of his roar.
Jun 10, 2011
May 28, 2011
(potentially) on going thoughts about social sector leadership
For the past six months or so those of us on staff at the Bresee Foundation have been going through the process of rethinking our mission and developing a new strategic plan. I am very glad we have embarked on this project and if nothing else we are now all asking ourselves and each other, "are we making an impact, what impact are we making, and how can we be more effective?"
Partly for my own development and partly to gain deeper insight into our efforts to become a better organization I've been revisiting some older books on organizational theory and the like, among them Jim Collins' monograph "Good to Great and the Social Sectors." In this short booklet Collins attempts to translate his ideas from his book "Good to Great" to address the realities of the social sector. He rejects the simplistic view that the social sector "needs to be more like business." He argues that while the same principles of leadership apply in both the business and the social sector, their application must fit the situation of an organization.
The first step in his cycle is to define "greatness," to have some tangible metrics that will guide an organization. When I've been in conversations about how to grow organizationally with social workers, teachers, church leaders and not-for-profit types this is often one of the first things to come up. "But the work we do just can't be measured by... [insert noun here--e.g. tests, numbers, budget, etc.]"
Let me preface my comments by admitting that I myself have an ambivalent relationship to "metrics" when used in these settings. I like to point out to anyone who will listen to me that numbers (ones and zeros) are the language of machines; the language of human life is based in narratives. I, like most of my post-whateverism brethren, find the modernist obsession with numbers and quantification to be destructively reductionist and inhumane.
With that said, I have become weary of the aforementioned protest--that for those of us in the social sector you simply cannot use some outcome to measure success or failure. Sure, let us be careful to not use overly reductionist numbers, outcomes, tests and the like, but for the love of God, let's strive for a high standard in whatever sector we happen to be in. Too often this objection is used as an excuse for laziness, lack of discipline, and a general tolerance for mediocrity.
Furthermore (and this is something Collins points out) the inadequacy of metrics is nothing unique to the social sector. It is just as true in business that a myopic fixation on one set of data can lead not to success and excellence but to mediocrity or bankruptcy. Quality of product pursued at the expense of profit margin is just as dangerous as single minded pursuit of profit margin at the expense of brand reputation. Therefore, we can claim no distinction for the social sector when we say "to pursue test scores alone is to water down the quality of our education by encouraging teaching to the test."
A second and more nuanced objection to the call to identify measurable goals to define mission success or failure is that it will simply encourage deceptive practices to "meet the numbers." No doubt this is true. Under no child left behind, for example, there are bound to be teachers who go beyond simply teaching to the test and feed actual answers to their students to goose the numbers. A less deceptive but no less damaging practice is "creaming"--that is, skimming off the easy "outcomes" to boost one's numbers. So for example, scholarship funds aimed at increasing college access among low income or minority students may end up boosting a small number of high achieving students and leaving behind the large majority who are struggling with middling grades from underperforming schools.
You can add more of your own examples--there is no shortage. But once more I ask, how is that different from the business sector? Surely if we learned anything from the past five years it is that the business world is quite capable of creating false numbers; of reaching for short term gains without a long term perspective; of creating the false appearance of success? From Lehman Brothers hiding bad assets off the books to most of Wall Street relentlessly pursuing foolish lending practices to GM doggedly producing inferior product the business world is rife with such practices. The social sector has not cornered the market on the production of a false appearance of success.
The crucial question for both the business and the social sectors is how can we create organizations that tirelessly pursue excellence and quality in the fullest and deepest sense of the terms? How do we set goals that guide us there, and how do we maintain the discipline to pursue not just the appearance of success but rather a constant refinement of our concept of success?
Partly for my own development and partly to gain deeper insight into our efforts to become a better organization I've been revisiting some older books on organizational theory and the like, among them Jim Collins' monograph "Good to Great and the Social Sectors." In this short booklet Collins attempts to translate his ideas from his book "Good to Great" to address the realities of the social sector. He rejects the simplistic view that the social sector "needs to be more like business." He argues that while the same principles of leadership apply in both the business and the social sector, their application must fit the situation of an organization.
The first step in his cycle is to define "greatness," to have some tangible metrics that will guide an organization. When I've been in conversations about how to grow organizationally with social workers, teachers, church leaders and not-for-profit types this is often one of the first things to come up. "But the work we do just can't be measured by... [insert noun here--e.g. tests, numbers, budget, etc.]"
Let me preface my comments by admitting that I myself have an ambivalent relationship to "metrics" when used in these settings. I like to point out to anyone who will listen to me that numbers (ones and zeros) are the language of machines; the language of human life is based in narratives. I, like most of my post-whateverism brethren, find the modernist obsession with numbers and quantification to be destructively reductionist and inhumane.
With that said, I have become weary of the aforementioned protest--that for those of us in the social sector you simply cannot use some outcome to measure success or failure. Sure, let us be careful to not use overly reductionist numbers, outcomes, tests and the like, but for the love of God, let's strive for a high standard in whatever sector we happen to be in. Too often this objection is used as an excuse for laziness, lack of discipline, and a general tolerance for mediocrity.
Furthermore (and this is something Collins points out) the inadequacy of metrics is nothing unique to the social sector. It is just as true in business that a myopic fixation on one set of data can lead not to success and excellence but to mediocrity or bankruptcy. Quality of product pursued at the expense of profit margin is just as dangerous as single minded pursuit of profit margin at the expense of brand reputation. Therefore, we can claim no distinction for the social sector when we say "to pursue test scores alone is to water down the quality of our education by encouraging teaching to the test."
A second and more nuanced objection to the call to identify measurable goals to define mission success or failure is that it will simply encourage deceptive practices to "meet the numbers." No doubt this is true. Under no child left behind, for example, there are bound to be teachers who go beyond simply teaching to the test and feed actual answers to their students to goose the numbers. A less deceptive but no less damaging practice is "creaming"--that is, skimming off the easy "outcomes" to boost one's numbers. So for example, scholarship funds aimed at increasing college access among low income or minority students may end up boosting a small number of high achieving students and leaving behind the large majority who are struggling with middling grades from underperforming schools.
You can add more of your own examples--there is no shortage. But once more I ask, how is that different from the business sector? Surely if we learned anything from the past five years it is that the business world is quite capable of creating false numbers; of reaching for short term gains without a long term perspective; of creating the false appearance of success? From Lehman Brothers hiding bad assets off the books to most of Wall Street relentlessly pursuing foolish lending practices to GM doggedly producing inferior product the business world is rife with such practices. The social sector has not cornered the market on the production of a false appearance of success.
The crucial question for both the business and the social sectors is how can we create organizations that tirelessly pursue excellence and quality in the fullest and deepest sense of the terms? How do we set goals that guide us there, and how do we maintain the discipline to pursue not just the appearance of success but rather a constant refinement of our concept of success?
Mar 28, 2011
Why Pray?
In all my recent reading and study on the topic of prayer (specifically the Christian variety) I have not yet seen a good answer to a question that was recently posed to me. I preached a few weeks ago and I used some of the material I've gathered on the subject of prayer, including some of the responses to the age old question of why pray if God knows our thoughts and knows the future? One of the men at church, Illya, told me he had often wondered just that, and liked some of the responses I quoted. But he also had another question for which I do not have a ready answer: why does the bible tell us that it is important to offer up the same request repeatedly?
Indeed, it seems like just about every other time Jesus takes up the topic of prayer it is to hammer on this point--pray frequently and pray persistently. But doesn't that seem somewhat untrusting? If I really trust God I should be content to offer my request or concern and leave it at that; but there we have Jesus telling parables of widows petitioning an unjust judge, of people hammering on the neighbors door at night, all telling us it is important to be persistent with our requests to God.
What is going on here--is God forgetful, does he have divine amnesia and needs tapped on the shoulder so to speak? And what is with those parables in which God comes off looking rather shabby, likened to an unjust judge or a grumpy neighbor?
I do not have any ready answer to this question, and in fact I am glad that my sermon got people asking more questions and not simply nodding at my answers. I've pondered Illya's question, why are we called to pray for things repeatedly and not just trust God that he heard us the first time? A few thoughts come to mind. First, in my own practice of prayer a lack of repetition and persistence more often reveals my apathy than my faith that God has heard me. Jesus seems to instruct us to go to God persistently as a display of faith. Secondly, if we understand prayer more as an ongoing and vibrant relationship with a personally engaged God then the persistence makes relational sense. If my wife and I decide we need to adjust our budget it is not enough to have one conversation about that and then be done with it; the nature of our lives requires that it become a part of an ongoing conversation.
Indeed, it seems like just about every other time Jesus takes up the topic of prayer it is to hammer on this point--pray frequently and pray persistently. But doesn't that seem somewhat untrusting? If I really trust God I should be content to offer my request or concern and leave it at that; but there we have Jesus telling parables of widows petitioning an unjust judge, of people hammering on the neighbors door at night, all telling us it is important to be persistent with our requests to God.
What is going on here--is God forgetful, does he have divine amnesia and needs tapped on the shoulder so to speak? And what is with those parables in which God comes off looking rather shabby, likened to an unjust judge or a grumpy neighbor?
I do not have any ready answer to this question, and in fact I am glad that my sermon got people asking more questions and not simply nodding at my answers. I've pondered Illya's question, why are we called to pray for things repeatedly and not just trust God that he heard us the first time? A few thoughts come to mind. First, in my own practice of prayer a lack of repetition and persistence more often reveals my apathy than my faith that God has heard me. Jesus seems to instruct us to go to God persistently as a display of faith. Secondly, if we understand prayer more as an ongoing and vibrant relationship with a personally engaged God then the persistence makes relational sense. If my wife and I decide we need to adjust our budget it is not enough to have one conversation about that and then be done with it; the nature of our lives requires that it become a part of an ongoing conversation.
Mar 4, 2011
C.S. Lewis and others on prayer
Another text that I have been working through on the topic of Christian prayer is a collection of letters that C.S. Lewis wrote to a friend, Malcolm, clustered around the topic of prayer. They were published in a book, Letters to Malcolm: Chiefly on Prayer, initially recommended to me by a thoughtful friend (thanks, Steve).
One of the things I have found interesting while contemplating this subject is how nearly every writer or thinker I have encountered takes up, at some point, the question of God's foreknowledge and prayer. Origen is pithy on this point, noting that one might well object to prayer, seeing as how it is an awful lot like beseeching God that the sun might rise in the morning. If God has perfect foreknowledge and if God is providential, what happens is inevitable, and what purpose then do our prayers serve?
A more existential way of putting this paradox was summed up in the lyrics to an old Caedmon's Call song, "The Close of Autumn" I believe was the title:
My dad has often quoted that last line, "what would I ask you," wondering why we pray.
There are a couple of layers to this. First, when we pray we often already know the answer God will give. Which of you if his son asks him for bread would give a stone? And yet, which of you if his son asks for poison would grant his request? Secondly, why do I ask when God presumably already knows not only just what he'd say to me, but also just what I'd ask of him?
It is almost a given that Christian writers taking up the subject of prayer will address this question at some point, yet it is fascinating that they often come at the question from different angles. Origen takes a number of angles, but starts with a philosophical argument: while God might have perfect knowledge of the future, that does not mean that his knowledge is itself the cause of any particular future event. For us then, it is important that we pray because our will is the cause of such events and God simply knows if we will chose to pray or not.
This is an interesting enough argument, but fairly abstract. Augustine takes a different angle:
From this angle, the effect of prayer on God is not the primary issue but rather the effect of prayer on the one offering it up. This is classic Augustine and a beautiful twist in addressing an age old question. God is always already answering us, but we are not always ready to receive.
Lewis' take gets a little closer to answering the question as posed by the Caedmon's Call lyric, taking a more relational and existential approach. Borrowing a page from Martin Buber Lewis suggests that regardless of whether or not God has perfect foreknowledge or determines all things, God desires us to pray to him because it places us in a dialogical relationship with God. Without prayer, Lewis writes that God's knowledge of us is like his knowledge of any other object: "We are, like earthworms, cabbages, and nebulae, objects of Divine knowledge" (Lewis, p. 33). It is only when we pray to God that we become something other than mere objects of knowledge, like those cabbages and nebulae. In Buber's words, when we pray the relationship God has with us switches from merely an I-it relationship to an I-Thou relationship. Through prayer we offer God our subjectivity.
Once again this has me thinking about parent and child, or two lovers or any other persons locked in a relationship for that mater. In our most intimate human relationships it is still important to speak words, ask questions, vent at the end of a long week, even when (and perhaps most crucially when) we already know what will be said or what will be answered.
Take the words "I love you." When spoken truthfully and without guile these words are often anticipated, expected, foreknown even; just as much as the reply, "I love you too."
One of the things I have found interesting while contemplating this subject is how nearly every writer or thinker I have encountered takes up, at some point, the question of God's foreknowledge and prayer. Origen is pithy on this point, noting that one might well object to prayer, seeing as how it is an awful lot like beseeching God that the sun might rise in the morning. If God has perfect foreknowledge and if God is providential, what happens is inevitable, and what purpose then do our prayers serve?
A more existential way of putting this paradox was summed up in the lyrics to an old Caedmon's Call song, "The Close of Autumn" I believe was the title:
All this time I've been thinking, wondering how would it be
To breathe in deep
Guess I need to be careful when I ask for a drink
Just might get what I ask for
And I know just what you'd say to me
That's why I don't ask you
What would I ask you
My dad has often quoted that last line, "what would I ask you," wondering why we pray.
There are a couple of layers to this. First, when we pray we often already know the answer God will give. Which of you if his son asks him for bread would give a stone? And yet, which of you if his son asks for poison would grant his request? Secondly, why do I ask when God presumably already knows not only just what he'd say to me, but also just what I'd ask of him?
It is almost a given that Christian writers taking up the subject of prayer will address this question at some point, yet it is fascinating that they often come at the question from different angles. Origen takes a number of angles, but starts with a philosophical argument: while God might have perfect knowledge of the future, that does not mean that his knowledge is itself the cause of any particular future event. For us then, it is important that we pray because our will is the cause of such events and God simply knows if we will chose to pray or not.
This is an interesting enough argument, but fairly abstract. Augustine takes a different angle:
But it is because the act of prayer clarifies and purges our heart and makes it more capable of receiving the divine gifts that are poured out for us in the spirit. God does not give heed to the ambitiousness of our prayers, because he is always ready to give to us his light, not a visible light but an intellectual and spiritual one: but we are not always read to receive it.
From this angle, the effect of prayer on God is not the primary issue but rather the effect of prayer on the one offering it up. This is classic Augustine and a beautiful twist in addressing an age old question. God is always already answering us, but we are not always ready to receive.
Lewis' take gets a little closer to answering the question as posed by the Caedmon's Call lyric, taking a more relational and existential approach. Borrowing a page from Martin Buber Lewis suggests that regardless of whether or not God has perfect foreknowledge or determines all things, God desires us to pray to him because it places us in a dialogical relationship with God. Without prayer, Lewis writes that God's knowledge of us is like his knowledge of any other object: "We are, like earthworms, cabbages, and nebulae, objects of Divine knowledge" (Lewis, p. 33). It is only when we pray to God that we become something other than mere objects of knowledge, like those cabbages and nebulae. In Buber's words, when we pray the relationship God has with us switches from merely an I-it relationship to an I-Thou relationship. Through prayer we offer God our subjectivity.
Once again this has me thinking about parent and child, or two lovers or any other persons locked in a relationship for that mater. In our most intimate human relationships it is still important to speak words, ask questions, vent at the end of a long week, even when (and perhaps most crucially when) we already know what will be said or what will be answered.
Take the words "I love you." When spoken truthfully and without guile these words are often anticipated, expected, foreknown even; just as much as the reply, "I love you too."
Mar 2, 2011
Reflections on Augustine
I've been pondering the quote I put up from Augustine for a few days now.
I particularly like that last bit about God seeking us out because we have lost ourselves. I am reminded of Christ's words in Matthew 16:
There are a few levels to this. On one level, I believe it is true that we find life when we are focused more on the needs of others than on our own. When we indulge our in born narcissism we ironically starve ourselves of the things that bring richness to life--love, friendship, family, and the like.
On another level it is impossible to escape the implication in Jesus' words: following him will not be comfortable. It's not just a message about "true happiness is found in helping others" but also a statement about the difficult, counter-cultural path Jesus calls his followers on, one that will lead to conflict with the powers that be and which is at times incompatible with worldly popularity.
Returning to the quote from Augustine, I wonder how skewed my appreciation of these words is given my position in history and my cultural background. In this late-modern, consumer capitalist culture of ours we are drawn to the repetition of the word "yourself" like moths to light. I am predisposed to get a warm fuzzy feeling by this quote in large part because of my conditioning. How hard it is to take these words deeply to heart, not because they are hard words but because our hearts respond to different meanings within those words than the ones most likely originally intended.
All of which returns me to prayer. One of the biggest problems I am encountering is the tendency to render prayer primarily a journey of self-discovery and self-improvement (as if we needed any more of such dreck in this culture so richly supplied with it). There is an undeniable focus on the individual in prayer. Our cultural bias towards individualism makes this entire subject dangerous stuff, puts us at increased risk of misinterpreting and misconstruing the subject because it deals in an area we have real trouble with.
"You ask what you should offer: offer yourself. For what else does the Lord seek of you but you? Because of all earthly creatures he has made nothing better than you, he seeks yourself from yourself, because you have lost yourself."
I particularly like that last bit about God seeking us out because we have lost ourselves. I am reminded of Christ's words in Matthew 16:
Then Jesus said to his disciples, "Whoever wants to be my disciple must deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me. For whoever wants to save their life will lose it, but whoever loses their life for me will find it. What good will it be for someone to gain the whole world, yet forfeit their soul? Or what can anyone give in exchange for their soul? For the Son of Man is going to come in his Father’s glory with his angels, and then he will reward each person according to what they have done.
There are a few levels to this. On one level, I believe it is true that we find life when we are focused more on the needs of others than on our own. When we indulge our in born narcissism we ironically starve ourselves of the things that bring richness to life--love, friendship, family, and the like.
On another level it is impossible to escape the implication in Jesus' words: following him will not be comfortable. It's not just a message about "true happiness is found in helping others" but also a statement about the difficult, counter-cultural path Jesus calls his followers on, one that will lead to conflict with the powers that be and which is at times incompatible with worldly popularity.
Returning to the quote from Augustine, I wonder how skewed my appreciation of these words is given my position in history and my cultural background. In this late-modern, consumer capitalist culture of ours we are drawn to the repetition of the word "yourself" like moths to light. I am predisposed to get a warm fuzzy feeling by this quote in large part because of my conditioning. How hard it is to take these words deeply to heart, not because they are hard words but because our hearts respond to different meanings within those words than the ones most likely originally intended.
All of which returns me to prayer. One of the biggest problems I am encountering is the tendency to render prayer primarily a journey of self-discovery and self-improvement (as if we needed any more of such dreck in this culture so richly supplied with it). There is an undeniable focus on the individual in prayer. Our cultural bias towards individualism makes this entire subject dangerous stuff, puts us at increased risk of misinterpreting and misconstruing the subject because it deals in an area we have real trouble with.
Feb 28, 2011
Augustine on sacrifice
"You ask what you should offer: offer yourself. For what else does the Lord seek of you but you? Because of all earthly creatures he has made nothing better than you, he seeks yourself from yourself, because you have lost yourself."
Sermon 48.2
quoted in "Ancient Christian Devotional" (a freebee that came with the "Ancient Christian Commentary" series)
Sermon 48.2
quoted in "Ancient Christian Devotional" (a freebee that came with the "Ancient Christian Commentary" series)
Feb 27, 2011
Origen, "On Prayer"
I've been doing a study of the practice and theology of Christian prayer. Early on I came across a reference to a text by the patristic writer Origen titled simply "On Prayer." The treatise is available in translation for free, courtesy of the good folks at CCEL.org. As part of my ongoing study and reflection on the subject of Christian prayer I will be posting some of my reading notes on this and other texts.
The following notes are from chapters 3-5 of Origen's treatise On Prayer:
chapter 3 is a lengthy argument for the absurdity of prayer in light of God's omniscience and providence, a rhetorical argument against praying that he then responds to in the following chapters. By no means does Origen present a straw man--I am impressed at how honestly he presents this common objection.
This is exactly the difficult question that many believers face at some point: if God already knows everything, and if in his providence he as ordained all things (he uses the example of Jacob and Esau), why bother praying? Origen notes that just as we would think it absurd to pray for sunrise, or for the length of the day to change, it is also seems absurd to pray for God to shorten the time of trial or suffering when we encounter such things.
My own note on this quandary: when one shifts ones focus from the desired effects of prayer and from the action of prayer and focus instead on the believers' attitude and stance before God this argument is deprived of its force. It is no less troubling on a philosophical level—but if what is important about prayer is knowing oneself and knowing God and going through the difficult process of approaching God with a clean heart, these questions fade in significance and urgency.
Chapter 4 is not so much a refutation of the argument contained in chapter 3 as a response. The initial argument is one from free will and runs roughly along the lines of “God has perfect foreknowledge, but his knowledge is not the cause of all future events. God knows before hand what our will is inclined towards and how we will chose, but it is our will that is the cause and not God's foreknowledge.”
In regards to the argument about the sun and the moon, Origen makes the curious yet compelling argument that even the Sun and Moon have free will after a sort, because each praises God in its own way. As the psalmist says “Praise him, Sun and Moon.”
This last point gets again at my observation that prayer is not primarily about getting this or that result, but about the praise, adoration, and presence of God. Just as the sun and moon praise God, so too we praise him through prayer. Indeed, we praise him all the more because we have the gift of self-awareness and so can examine our hearts and minds to ensure we come to him in prayer and praise with a clean heart.
The following notes are from chapters 3-5 of Origen's treatise On Prayer:
chapter 3 is a lengthy argument for the absurdity of prayer in light of God's omniscience and providence, a rhetorical argument against praying that he then responds to in the following chapters. By no means does Origen present a straw man--I am impressed at how honestly he presents this common objection.
This is exactly the difficult question that many believers face at some point: if God already knows everything, and if in his providence he as ordained all things (he uses the example of Jacob and Esau), why bother praying? Origen notes that just as we would think it absurd to pray for sunrise, or for the length of the day to change, it is also seems absurd to pray for God to shorten the time of trial or suffering when we encounter such things.
My own note on this quandary: when one shifts ones focus from the desired effects of prayer and from the action of prayer and focus instead on the believers' attitude and stance before God this argument is deprived of its force. It is no less troubling on a philosophical level—but if what is important about prayer is knowing oneself and knowing God and going through the difficult process of approaching God with a clean heart, these questions fade in significance and urgency.
Chapter 4 is not so much a refutation of the argument contained in chapter 3 as a response. The initial argument is one from free will and runs roughly along the lines of “God has perfect foreknowledge, but his knowledge is not the cause of all future events. God knows before hand what our will is inclined towards and how we will chose, but it is our will that is the cause and not God's foreknowledge.”
In regards to the argument about the sun and the moon, Origen makes the curious yet compelling argument that even the Sun and Moon have free will after a sort, because each praises God in its own way. As the psalmist says “Praise him, Sun and Moon.”
This last point gets again at my observation that prayer is not primarily about getting this or that result, but about the praise, adoration, and presence of God. Just as the sun and moon praise God, so too we praise him through prayer. Indeed, we praise him all the more because we have the gift of self-awareness and so can examine our hearts and minds to ensure we come to him in prayer and praise with a clean heart.
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