The Fifth Panelist

Most of you, like me, at least caught bits and pieces of last night’s debate on ABC concerning the existence of Satan. Panelists included philosopher Deepak Chopra and Bishop Carlton Pearson debating Pastor Mark Driscoll and founder of Hookers for Jesus Annie Lobert. Chopra and Pearson defended the non-existence of Satan while Driscoll and Lobert based their arguments around his imperative existence in the midst of humanity.

From the instant anyone hears about this volatile topic, they have an opinion – a staunch one, at that. E-mails poured in to Nightline, Twitterville was in upheaval, and I can very safely assume that I am nowhere near the beginning of the list of bloggers to weigh in on this topic. Here, I’d like to list a few of my talking points and some interjections I felt while watching the debate.

Before that, though, I’d like to – briefly – broadcast my distaste for the way the panel operated. Granted, it was a debate over a hot-button issue, but at several times one or all panelists ceased debated and reverted to grade-school bickering. Unsurprisingly, Driscoll made several (although witty) personal remarks about both Chopra and Pearson, attacking their personal and religious backgrounds, neither of which were on the topic of the debate. Chopra was equally hostile to Driscoll and Lobert, the only difference lying a more well-defined argument. Pearson, to me, seemed to be the most collected, open, and logical member of the panel, possibly due to the fact of his once die-hard reliance on the devil’s existence that he has since abandoned.

Okay, now some questions and statements I have as the self-nominated fifth panelist:

• Is it possible to call yourself a Christian and not believe in Satan? Absolutely. I happen to be proof. Or, at least, I don’t hold to the opinion that Satan as an entity exists. The Bible is many things, one of those is a work of literature. In literature, authors use literary devices to illustrate a point. Jesus spoke in parables and much of the Old Testament is comprised of stories told mostly in the oral tradition and written down generations later. The latter example is what some refer to as folklore. Considering this concept, I come to the conclusion that Satan (as referred to in the Bible) could quite possibly be one such literary device used by authors and storytellers for centuries to personify humanity’s choice against God. If Satan does exists as an entity, I argue that we created him, not God. Which leads into the next question:
• Did God create Satan? and, If so, why?
  Bishop Pearson brought up a very good point early on in the debate: He said that if God is good, and everything he creates is good, how could he have created Satan? If one is to believe in Satan and that he is the enemy of God and the embodiment of evil, then one cannot simultaneously agree that God himself created such a thing. For several reasons: 1) Why would God, who is ultimately concerned with showing us love and offering us salvation, create a being to directly oppose his own efforts especially after we cursed ourselves with separation from him in the garden? 2) If Satan is literally a fallen angel, why would God not only take his power away upon his attempted mutiny, but allow him to have more power after defecting, thus posing an actual threat to God’s ultimate power and position in the universe? 3) If God did, in fact, create Satan and he did so for Satan to be in direct opposition to him, Satan would only be fulfilling his God-given purpose, thus glorifying God by his loyalty and service, making him “good.”
• Do God and Satan define each other? No, I don’t believe so. God is partially defined by many things and, in many ways, utterly undefinable. He is love, safety, infinite, engaging, frustrating, curious, jealous, the list goes on. But one thing that has to stand alone here in this argument is that God is not defined by the evil he isn’t. However, it seems that Satan – to our knowledge – is defined by how not God he is and nothing else.
• To believe in God, do you have to believe in Satan? This question is eerily similar in phrasing to my first, but it is entirely different. It is in response to a question an audience member asked the panel near the end of the debate. To paraphrase even more, he basically asked “Do you have to believe in both God and Satan or neither, or are they mutually exlusive?” And I have to respond with: Again, I don’t believe so. I guess it would depend on your level of arrogance, to be curt. What I mean by that is that the debate here is not whether or not evil exists, it’s over the existence of Satan. And I think that what makes this issue so contentious is that we can all unanimously agree that evil does exist, but if it doesn’t come from Satan, where can it come from? Those outside the Christian faith have no problem admitting that it comes from God, which is a viable option once you throw Satan out of the picture, but what about those of us inside the Christian faith who believe that no evil can come from God? The only other place evil would have to come from would be ourselves, humans. There seems to be such an aversion to accept the responsibilities and consequences of the choices that we make as humans. We thank God for blessing us and curse Satan for our tribulations. Why, then, do we preach accountability? If Satan causes evil, then why do we feel guilt? Apparently he’s powerful, right? The master deceiver? Why, then are we so disappointed when we’re “deceived” by him into doing evil? If you believe in Satan, shouldn’t the blame go straight from God to Satan? If all we ever were was tempted and deceived by a master deceiver, what do we repent from in order to receive salvation? Gullibility?

Those are a few of my interjections, and now I open up the blogging floor to you. Feel free to continue this discussion.

Filed under: Culture, Theology

The Storyteller’s Gospel, pt. 1: The Amber Sky at Sunrise

His story begins as any epic would.

The world had, for many years, been without the light of hope. History had become shapeless and void, a repeating cycle of kings and wars, birth and death, inescapable from the dull and constant pain of monotony. Day was a steady burn of dry and unrelenting heat, although the sun didn’t seem to shine quite as brightly as it had before. Night was cold and silent, devoid of a gentle wind or soothing rain. This cycle held strong for hundreds of years. Generations of mankind lived and died, ignorant to the sweet taste of the fruit of change.

There were those, however, who held on to what little hope they found. Many still whispered in locked rooms of the promise of a prophecy fulfilled. Some even dared to speak openly about this man who would come and breathe life back into the world. Most, though, just rested wearily in shadow.

Rumor began to grow of a child whose parents had narrowly escaped capture by the King’s men who had wanted to kill him. The general consensus was that they had fled the country. Whispers grew louder and louder. People were becoming curious as to why the King wanted this particular child so badly. Most people dismissed it as a wive’s tale or urban myth. But, for some reason, they could feel the foreign twinge of excitement in their bones.

A man living in the wilderness began to gain a good deal of attention. He was widely considered insane, but skeptics who went to see him found themselves in shocking agreement with him. He said what most had wanted to say, but couldn’t utter it any louder than a whisper. This man shouted openly about the end of these dark times.

Crowds gathered to hear him speak, most just feeding their curiosity. He began initiating people into the hope that a man would someday bring. He spoke of this man as if he were here, among them, weaving through the crowds. Skeptical, people questioned when this man was coming, if at all.

A morning came that was different than those of late. The sky was amber bright and the wind came in like a soft, flowing silk draped over tender skin. More people than ever had come to see the man in the wilderness that morning. Something was different, something they could feel. Even the man in the wilderness was different. He did not shout, he did not preach. He opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. He stood devastatingly still. After several minutes, his eyes glistening with the clear and honest heat of tears, he simply pointed.

The crowd stood silent in confusion for a moment, then slowly turned around. On the hillside behind them, silhouetted by the amber bright sky, there he was.

The child in exile. The embodiment of their trembling anxiety. The man who had been born into legend.

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Filed under: Prose, Theology, Writing