“The heart has its reasons of which reason knows nothing.”
—Blaise Pascal (1623–1662)
In my last sermon I proposed that our identity is made up of the stories we tell about ourselves. Think of a tapestry which is made up of various threads. So too our narrative self is made up of many stories. When these stories come together in an integrated way, they can form a complete picture. This can be thought of as a deep story and with an element of transcendence a God story.
We can think for a moment about the story of the Jewish people. Their father figure was Abraham, but they became a people through the remarkable escape from slavery, which we call the Exodus, which led to wandering in the wilderness for 40 years and entering the Promised Land. All this was formative of the Jewish identity which is lasted through the 3000+ years since (and countless times of persecution). And all this was fundamental to the identity of Jesus Christ as a Jew and our developing of the Christian God story.
What are some of the potential stories? The first I will call the hidden story.
The Hidden Story
What is the start of a life story? Conception? The womb? Birth? While not everyone would agree on a point of beginning, we can agree that the first years are a crucial period in child development. This includes a time before there is any capacity for language. This is a time of “wordless” learning, in psychological research has been called implicit learning.
If you think back, what is your first memory? How old were you? The important question is what did you learn before that first memory? It is the gap which is interesting.
No child is a blank slate, not even at birth. There is even the possibility of learning in the womb. You might think, for example, of a pregnant mother in a war zone whose anxiety is communicated to her fetus. The experience of being born may be difficult even in normal circumstances.
Such intense experiences seem likely to leave an imprint on the developing consciousness of the child. This early learning might be considered hidden because it precedes any capacity for language, so it cannot be easily expressed. It is foundational. Nothing is prior. The implication is that the first story is a hidden story because it begins without language.
Young children begin to speak at about 18 months old, but they have learned much by that age.
I will use Robert as an example. His father was a violent alcoholic, and Robert witnessed repeated violence in his family. He formed unspoken beliefs that he later lived out. You might consider the following: What did Robert learn about male–female relationships? Who in his family was more powerful? Who got their needs met? How? If Robert were to act on that learning, what kind of partner or husband would he be? How easy would it be for him to be violent in an adult intimate relationship? And could such hidden learning have an influence on how Robert might see God?
We can recognize the lifetime legacy of early hidden learning. For Robert his understanding “about the way things are” had been laid down like railroad tracks before words formed. Hidden learning is about what is accepted as “normal” in life: how to act and how to treat others.
Robert had a de facto relationship in his early twenties. He became violent to his partner. She escaped to the house of a relative, and Robert was later charged for assault.
Now we can see how important the challenge of discovery can be. Robert talked to a pastoral counsellor who asked him what he had learned as a child. This was his first attempt:
I was frightened as a child by my father’s anger and violence. There was no place safe for me at home. He dominated the family and we all tiptoed around him. Eventually, I realized we were both male. One day I’d grow up and I’d be strong like him. I’d be able to be the boss. Eventually, that happened, but I didn’t see the cost to people close to me—those who depended on me. Years later, I realized that I needed to deal with my anger or everyone would leave me.
A new story was emerging from Robert’s dysfunctional early learning.
It can be revealing when someone (including ourselves) acts in a way that is uncharacteristic or unwarranted by circumstances. This might suggest that some aspect of early learning has been triggered. The logic of the reaction is not present but past.
Our God story begins with early nonverbal hidden learning. This is almost inevitable.
Marcus was taken to church as a baby, and he continued to attend through Sunday school and the church youth group. What he first learned about church was to be quiet. He would get a “Shush!” from his mother when he made a noise. This later extended to some sense of his family having respected an unseen figure called God, whom people spoke to in prayer. He sensed that there was an expectation of different behavior in God’s “house.”
Marcus was getting spiritual messages from birth through his family attending worship. It was a normal family activity. He had the sense of a sacred space where a different kind of behaviour was expected. Religious activity was not limited to church, since his family would also pray at home. As long as Marcus could remember, he had a sense of God as mystery, but also as a person to talk to. These are components of primary spiritual knowing in the first couple of years of life, before any capacity for language.
Hidden learning can be positive. Most people have some sense of being loved, operate with natural coping styles, and behave in healthy ways. This extends to their spiritual learning and, potentially, has a positive impact on the God story.
I am not sure that I have a God story that is easy for people to identify with. I have always found it easy to believe in God. Creation does it for me. I look at the night sky and think, “There must be a reason for all this.” The Christian message also makes sense to me, and I accept it. While my relationship with God would not be described as intimate, it makes sense to me that if God is real then I should serve in some way. These basic assumptions form the basis of my God story, which includes, as key points, coming to faith, training in theology and psychology, ordination (in two denominations and possibly acceptance into a third), parish ministry, for the last 20 years voluntary work in churches and the last three years as a supply minister. I have the sense that this is a positive experience for me, and that perhaps my “best” self is in my God story.
I have introduced the positive side of hidden learning. Equally, there is a potentially negative side to spiritual experience. Carl Jung wrote about the shadow side of self, which is mostly beyond our conscious awareness. Such awareness takes a lifetime, and the goal is integration into an expanding sense of self.
Mary
Mary talked with her pastor about her attitude to pleasing God:
“I feel I need to submit in all things, to never question God. It would be disrespectful, wouldn’t it?”
Michael thought for a moment and said, “Could you say more about that?”
Mary asked, “Don’t we say Jesus is Lord and we expect him to eventually rule over everything?”
Michael replied, “Yes, that’s true, but why can’t we sometimes question God? There are examples of that in the Bible. The prophets, Job and others. I remember you telling me about how Harry was like your father, and they both ordered you around, and you submitted to what they both wanted. When you think about God demanding something similar of you, do you feel close to God or is it just familiar?”
Mary thought for a while. “I guess you have a point. It is familiar, but I want to run from God. Deep down, I’m angry and resentful. I don’t want to go to church or engage in worship; I just want to hide.”
Michael said thoughtfully, “So the belief doesn’t encourage you to draw close to God. In fact, it pushes you away. Is that right?”
Michael encouraged Mary to keep a journal. In it, she wrote a dialogue with her 5-year-old self: “I was in the church I remember as a child. I felt lonely because I was on my own. As I ‘talked’ with myself, I realized I was frightened of God. He seemed big and frightening—someone who would punish me for anything I did wrong.”
She talked about this with Michael, who suggested a sentence-completion exercise: “How would you answer: God is frightening because …?”
Mary thought for a moment and said, “Because he can read my thoughts. He sees every unkind thought I have. I remember Mrs. Jones, who taught Sunday school. She told me God could see into my head, knowing everything. I was a sinful little girl and God would punish me!”
Michael smiled and said, “No wonder you were frightened. This kind of teaching puts a barrier between you and God. I think there are other pictures of God— for example, as loving—which is what I believe.”
He encouraged Mary to prayerfully visualize Jesus welcoming the children and saying “Let the children come to me, and do not hinder them; for to such belong the kingdom of God” (Matthew 19:14).
Conclusion We all have a God story. Perhaps some, like Woody Allen or Richard Dawkins, would find it more of an anti-God story. Or you might want to call it a wisdom story.
To Do: Journal by writing your God story. Think about sentence completion God is …. And ask yourself if your picture of God is positive or negative?
Dr Bruce Stevens is supply minister at GUC.