Monday, 7 November 2022

Being Wrong

 I'm grateful for Kathryn Schulz's book Being Word:Adventures in the Margin of Error. In her own words the book "[...] is staked on the soundness of that observation: that however disorienting, difficult, or humbling our mistakes might be, it is ultimately wrongness, not rightness, that can teach us who we are."

She shows this by taking us on a journey through philosophy, psychology, science and art. through anecdotes, case studies, experiments and examples. She interweaves many examples from each of the 4 disciplines above in her book. She presents the relationship between science, art and error:

'Scientists , like poets, could fairly claim that , “ what we are engaged in … is error."  In other words, error is central to both the why and the how of science and art: it gives us a reason as well as a means to pursue them.'

In chapter 1 she examines two models of wrongness: the optimistic and the pessimistic models of wrongness. She promotes the optimistic model of wrongness throughout the book, because its hallmark is the idea that from error springs insight.

 In part 2 of the book, she looks at the categories of knowledge and belief. She concludes that the category of "knowledge" is unreliable.  It is "belief" that is by far the broader, more complex, and more interesting category. She also states that if we want to understand how we err, we need to look to how we believe.


 In the chapter on "The Allure of Certainty" Kathryn assesses the quality of certainty: 

"This is one of the most defining and dangerous characteristics of certainty: it is toxic to a shift in a perspective. If imagination is what enables us to conceive of and enjoy stories other than our own, and if empathy is the act of taking other people’s stories seriously, certainty deadens or destroys both qualities."

She gives the clear example of King Lear from Shakespeare's King Lear.

This is my favourite quote from Part 3, the Experience of Error:

"This is the thing about fully experiencing wrongness. It strips us of all our theories, including our theories about ourselves. This isn’t fun while it’s happening — it leaves us feeling flayed, laid bare to the bone and the world — but it does make possible that rarest of occurrences:real change."

 In Chapter 13, the author discusses how we could be transformed by error:

 "Ultimately, then, we are transformed by error through accepting it. To be judgmental, we must feel sure that we know right from wrong, and that we ourselves would never confuse the two. But the experience of erring shows us otherwise. It reminds us that, having been wrong in the past, we could easily be wrong again — and not just in the abstract but right now, here in the middle of this argument about pickles or constellations or crumb cake . At the same time, it reminds us to treat other people with compassion, to honor them in their possible rightness as well as their inevitable, occasional wrongness."

 Lastly, in Part 4, she discusses the paradox of error, summarized in her assertion that the only way to safeguard against error is to embrace it.

This book is very relevant to the church because it can contribute to a theology of failure.  Some writers have pointed out the need for such a theology. See for example, Leonard Sweet's Rings of Fire chapter 17 or Fail: Finding Hope and Grace in the Midst of Ministry Failure by J. R. Briggs.

 

Friday, 12 May 2017

The Choice


There's nothing made by man in heaven
But the scars in the Master's hands
Perhaps we should consider that
As we go about making plans.


The very best that man can do,
When all has been said and done
Is to find a way to show our love
To God's only begotten son.


God starts us off with a garden
Soon spoiled by man, what a pity
As our hearts began to harden
Wasn't long until man built a city.


For the next 4.000 years
We turned our backs on our Creator
Through trials, tribulations, and times
Thinking we could find something greater.


When the time was at hand,
There came a chance for a new beginning
God came down to earth as a man
But man simply chose to keep on sinning.


He was lifted up on a cross
All we did was crucify him
But God didn't deem it a loss
He reached down to glorify him.


Some men saw the light—his power, his might
Some realized what he had done
He had given his life, but had won the fight
And a new journey had begun.


Next time it won't be a garden
But a city not made by man
A city called New Jerusalem
Where sin won't be able to stand


For some, a celestial choir
Some will lay their crowns at his feet
For some just darkness and fire
The clap separated from wheat


It's hard for me to imagine
That some people still need to decide
Where they will spend eternity.
In fact, I'm quite mystified


Instead of walking in the shadow of Adam's shame
Marked by death and under a curse
They too can just call upon Jesus' name
On the Creator of the Universe


Be a part of the redeemer's plan
And all they'd have to do is believe
Accept that He paid for the sins of man
Repent, confess and prepare to receive


There would be no confusing rituals
No hoops they would have to jump through
"Whosoever will"—call upon Jesus' name
Like me, can be set free too!


Hallelujah!

He is our Lord, our all and all,
Our god, there is none greater
In Jesus' name, we can just call
On our Father, on our creator.

Amen!
Gary Field
www.betweenthebars.org/blogs/1398

Tuesday, 11 April 2017

Three Nails



As our Lord was led
To Calvary's Hill
To what would soon
Be hallowed ground

Up in Heaven
It seemed
That time stood still
As the angels
Gathered around

As the scene
Continued to unfold
Though they could not
Understand it

They knew
That this had been foretold
This was the way
That God had planned it

It would take three nails on Calvary
On that fateful day
Three nails on Calvary
To wash our sins away

But those angels who stood watching,
Weeping, fighting back the rage
God kept them from leaping
Kept them from that center stage

'Cause this was planned from the beginning
This was how it had to end
To remove that curse from sinning
So man could be born again

It would take three nails on Calvary
On that fateful day
Three nails on Calvary
To rip that veil away

One nail was of mercy
One nail was of grace
One nail for the Gift of God
Who died there in your place

But those angels who stood watching,
Weeping, fighting back the rage
God kept them from leaping
Kept them from that center stage

'Cause this was planned from the beginning
This was how it had to end
To remove that curse from sinning
So man could be born again

It would take three nails on Calvary
On that fateful day
Three nails on Calvary
'Cause there was hell to pay

One nail for the body
One nail for the soul
One nail for the spirit
Satan tried to control

One nail was for the man you were
One for who you now can be
That third nail put to death the curse
That third nail set you free

Yes it took three nails on Calvary
On that fateful day
Three nails on Calvary
To wash our sins away

Three nails on Calvary
To rip the veil away
Three nails on Calvary
'Cause there was hell to pay


Now you hold those nails my friend
And I pray you understand
That you would have a choice to make
Was a part of that plan

And those angels who stood watching
Now wonder what you'll do
Once again they're watching
Only this time watching you

With those three nails from Calvary
Will they wash your sins away
Those three nails from Calvary
Will they rip the veil away

Those three nails from Calvary
Yes they're in your hands today
They're in your hands today
They're in your hands today

Words and music: Gary Field; Annotation: Matthew Swinford
www.betweenthebars.org/blogs/1398

Sunday, 26 March 2017

Guide my hand

by Gary Field


Though my 3 fingers hold the pen,
I pray God that you guide my hand-
To help me touch the hearts of men,
That they may come to understand.

Your boundless mercy and amazing grace
That they may know your peace-
And in you find a resting place
Where fruitless worries would all cease.

Help me find a way to impart,
The joy I've found as I've kneeled-
And your word, hidden in my heart,
May through my writing be revealed.

Not my words, Father God, but yours,
May be planted and then take root-
And that your spirit opens doors,
So those words may then bear fruit.

I pray you use me as you will,
And that your perfect will be done-
That your Holy Spirit may instill,
The means to glorify your Son.

I've poured your word into my spirit,
And meditated upon each line-
That I may both fear and revere it,
As a spiritual gold mine.

It's riches, which are beyond compare,
Must be declared to this generation-
So I pray God that I may share,
The great hope of my salvation.

Your Son, our Lord, Jesus Christ,
The only hope for a sin sick soul-
For which he gladly sacrificed,
His love- so that we may be made whole.

I'll hold the men, God guide my hand,
That your truth may flow freely-
According to your perfect plan,
I pray God, that you may use me.

Amen

Gary Field
www.betweenthebars.org/blogs/1398

Thursday, 16 March 2017

Signs of the Times

  
This poem effectively captures the spirit of the age.

Signs of the Times

 Each time we turn on the evening news,
Our stress levels can begin to rise-
As images of a world gone mad, abuse
Our sensibilities, and assault our eyes.



And yet, as in the days of Noah,
People just running to and from-
As punch drunk as Rocky Balbao,
Trying to shake off another blow.


If the "Signs of the Times" wore neon lights,
Perhaps then they would get our attention-
Or revelation reduced to sound bites,
Labeled "Time for an intervention."


Well we've got wars and rumors of wars,
And those earthquakes in divers places-
The devil roars while the world ignores,
The "Signs of the Times" flashed in our faces.


Yet some "Gospel of Prosperity"
Is what seems to be filling the pews-
And so many of us just refuse to see
That "Revelations" on the evening news.


Can we be so blind that we cannot see,
The handwriting is there on the wall-
And what's unfolding is prophecy,
"Let those who stand take heed lest they fall."


Well there will be weeping and gnashing of teeth,
On a day when it's least expected-
For those who chose the path of disbelief,
By whom the Word of Truth was rejected.


Now I know I'd be much more popular
If I wrote things people wanted to hear-
Or if I chose to hold a seminar,
With words catered to the itching ear.


But it's not me that's being rejected,
It's all plainly written there in the book-
The word of God is being neglected,
Perhaps it's time we all took another look.



Below is the poet's blog address if you wish to read more writing by him.

Gary Field MO53398 Okeechobee C.I Okeechobee, Fl. 37972.
www.betweenthebars.org/blogs/1398.

Sunday, 21 December 2014

Christmas is not cute

The Birth of Jesus Christ is presented by our pop culture as something that is cute. It has become like a cult of cuteness. But as authors Viola and Sweet have said so eloquently in their book, Jesus Manifesto, the story of Jesus' birth, death and resurrection doesn't compute with cute. They go on:


  • The Annunciation, when the angel Gabriel appeared to the virgin Mary to tell her she was pregnant, wasn't cute.
  • Admitting to Joseph that she was pregnant wasn't cute. [In a shame- based culture as the 1st Century Jewish culture was, she risked being shunned or even being killed-Ed].
  • The Magnificat wasn't cute (Lk 1:46-55).
  • The little town of Bethlehem wasn't cute.
  • The killing of the innocents wasn't cute.
  • Jesus' genealogy wasn't cute (His lineage includes a rape victim, an adulteress, and a prostitute)~Jesus Manifesto:Restoring the Supremacy and Sovereignty of Jesus Christ, p75.


Please watch this favorite video of mine: O Little Town of Bethlehem, which presents Christmas in all of its rawness, without the tinsel, glitz and candy sweetness.






Monday, 27 October 2014

Making our own prisons

Recently, I did some ticketing door-to-door for a company in a suburb near to where I live. It was an interesting experience. Many homes were so secured with their sliding gates, bars on windows, grilled flyscreens and locked front doors that they were like little prisons.
I knocked on one door and then heard the rattle of keys, and then more rattling. I then heard a voice from inside: "Hang on mate, I can't open the door, I'll have to open the garage". I waited at the garage door and slowly the door automatically lifted up. I felt like Ali Baba entering the den of thieves. The only thing missing was the "open sesame" password.
What sort of society have we become where some are so security conscious that they can't even open their own front doors? A lot of this obsession with security is fear driven. The cost of such security is often a high rate of loneliness and depression.
We also make our own prisons through our addictions, whether they be drugs, money, sex, pornography, power or material things.
The good news is that Jesus came to free us from our prisons, not the prisons we make out of bricks and mortar, but our imprisoned spirits. The verse from the famous hymn by Charles Wesley "And can it be" describes Jesus' work so well:

Long my imprisoned spirit lay
fast bound in sin and nature's night:
thine eye diffused a quickening ray;
I woke-the dungeon flamed with light.
My chains fell off, my heart was free;
I rose, went forth, and followed thee.