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Cultivating a flourishing community within the walls of fractured Eden produced a garden of monstrous thorns and breathtaking roses. Lawmakers, policy experts, and cultural critics are the gardeners contributing to tilling the soil of Western society. Each worker within their prospective jobs operates in the ever-present tug of war of a utopia and a dystopia. The tension of how the world is and what it could be. 

I wrote an article a few months back contemplating religious influences within a free and democratic society. The proper role of the church and the state seemed to contain the solutions for the vast majority of my musings examining culture, law, and policy. It was under this framework those spheres dwelled beneath- each element appeared to be considerably influenced by the reach of both religion and government.  

In my wrestle with the age-old tension of the separation of church and state and its impact in the realm of culture, law, and politics I was met with a deeper understanding of both historical legal precedence, but also insight into the current state of pluralism within Canadian society. 

As I equipped myself to dig with a set of metaphorical gloves and a philosophical shovel something became abundantly clear: gardening in our fallen Garden of Eden is no simple task- our idyllic flower bed is overgrown with thistles and thorns. Not surprisingly many of my questions led to answers that inevitably led to a plethora of questions.  I couldn’t seem to reach a satisfactory conclusion that separated the two- no matter how many policies I examined or books I read, I was still left with a jumbled mess of religion and rules.

I believe this is a testament to not only the complexities of civil government but also of the richness that religion plays within individuals’ lives. While I will continue in my quest for explanations, I acknowledge that this will be a lifelong pursuit of truth. Despite my initial personal bias regarding the dichotomy of personal religion matters and public legislation, I was surprised to discover a surprising appreciation for the principle of tolerance.  

I had previously equated tolerance to nothing more than a dirty word, I saw it as a dangerous scapegoat creating personal and legal safeguards for harmful ideologies to prevail under the guise of a passive concern for truth.

I had previously equated tolerance to nothing more than a dirty word, I saw it as a dangerous scapegoat creating personal and legal safeguards for harmful ideologies to prevail under the guise of a passive concern for truth. I admit that I was a bit deceived in my hermeneutic understanding of the word itself. Within the proper context, tolerance is an essential construct that allows for critical thinking and innovation of ideologies within a free and democratic society.  Tolerance is the combined element of empathy and critical thinking. 

The advantages of personal convictions coupled with the unavoidable necessity of government are mutually beneficial to the citizen and the government. The role that each performs within our framework of life deeply impacts both the personal and public aspects of our lives. Through the principle of tolerance, law and religion can remain separate- but not opposed.

I originally viewed the relationship of god and government as distantly separate entities suffering from a bitter divorce dating back to mid-century Europe; warring as fatal enemies, fighting on the battlefield of culture, policy, and law. However, I have begun to view this balance as a marriage of two ideologies rooted in tolerance and mutual respect for one another. 

Lawmakers, policy experts, and cultural critics’ ability to tolerate and respect one another’s differences are key to correctly contextualizing the proper place for law and God. While I remain rooted in the importance of the separation of church and state I have begun to realize the significance of ideological tolerance within our society. As lawmakers, policy experts, and cultural critics work to restore Eden, they must do so with abundance tolerance and proper understanding of God and government.

The forecast of my soul is a contradictory climate; a simultaneous rainbow in the midst of a turbulent tsunami- a violent storm of deep criticism of how the world is, yet overwhelming optimism of how the world could be.

Despite the aching desire to sign divorce papers, my current assignment is attempting to draft a peace treaty to ease tensions between the tragic ever-present battle of the empathetic chasms of my heart and the working-over-time habits of my brain.

I’m currently trying to make amends with the invisible war between reason and romance.

I’m currently trying to make amends with the invisible war between reason and romance. My ability to recognize the silver lining in the midst of a storm has been praised, but in reality, it’s a heavy burden- living in the tension of the two realities of past and possible.

An inferred mutual exclusivity for how you feel and what you think exists in various perspectives of philosophy, psychology, and politics. But why do the head and the have to be a dichotomy?

The storm of existential dread coupled with the soft pink clouds of a silver lining makes for quite a quibbling marriage. Despite the rhetoric and research of intellectual empathy, I doubt there will ever be true reconciliation for the head and the heart.

▲ Published as an op-ed for Mar’s Hill Newspaper.

Is it just me, or did trust issues become sexy? Distrust is a relatable quality that we all seem to have in common. “Oh, you have trust issues too? Ha ha, that’s so fun for us!” We have become masters of faking it while simultaneously distrusting one another. It is a toxic, systemic, and seemingly perpetual cycle. We fake nice, we fake love, we fake laugh, we fake smile, we fake sad, we fake happy until, eventually, we fake ourselves. 

But what is causing this?

Religion is becoming nothing more than a cute “morning coffee with Jesus <3”

There is a sphere of growing societal distrust in the Church. Religion is becoming nothing more than a cute “morning coffee with Jesus <3” Instagram aesthetic. The Church, too, has clothed itself in the garb of consumerism, and just like other products, it will not sell if it is not sexy, flashy, or entertaining. Corporate church culture drives religion in the West––capitalism determines which churches make the cut. Traditional Biblical exegesis parallels the Church to the Bride of Christ. Unfortunately, the behavior of the modern church more closely resembles an unfaithful whore than a woman in white. 

Elders speak on the sanctity of life as they secretly schedule their daughter’s abortion appointment.

Pastors celebrate the Virgin Mary as they excommunicate pregnant teens in their congregation.

The Church speaks out against violence as they cover up the buried bodies of hundreds of Indigenous children.

Priests practice the sacraments while they commit grievous sexual scandals behind closed doors.

Christians spew rhetoric of love and acceptance as they cut off ties with their gay friends.

Widely respected spiritual leaders preach about righteousness and faithfulness as they sleep with someone else’s wife.  

All of this is cause for a deep-seated distrust of the Christian religion. I recognize that these instances do not represent the church as a whole, however, it is cases like this that contribute to our trust issues. The Edelman Trust Barometer reported in 2017 a steady and observable decline in trust across 28 countries. Their research included increasing distrust in a variety of institutions including business, religious, media, political, and NGOs. This study along with the Pew Research Center, and the Gallup World Poll all produced the same conclusion: we do not trust each other. We do not trust the government, police, doctors, businesses, churches, media, food labels… all the bases are covered.    

Trust issues are an epidemic: it is no surprise that this generation is steadily trending towards deconstruction. I do not claim to be a relationship guru, however, I do know that an essential component of a healthy, functioning relationship is trust. It is no wonder that we feel as though we cannot communicate our doubts and griefs to the Church. I often ponder whether or not God still recognizes His Bride.

Our honest heartbreaking inquiries are met with shallow Pinterest-worthy bulls—. Our broken trust haunts us, but we shut up and sit still because our reputation is more important than our doubts. There is more focus on the “right” answer instead of the real answer. 

Our inflated view of leadership within our community glorifies imperfect individuals, and as a result, leaves no space for honesty. 

Doubt can be deadly, not because of the doubt itself, but rather because of our fear to address it. Distrust should spark critical thinking and intellectual inquiry. Instead, our distrust has produced a sense of cultural apathy. Building back trust requires intentionality, time, and taking responsibility—is the Church ready for that? Trust issues are comfortable, after all, but what if the truth is uglier than our dilapidated constructed sense of reality? Our response should be a critical analysis of our internal convictions and external behavior. 

A traditional essay has a neat conclusion, but as I wrestled through this topic it occurred to me that I could not write one: I do not have a beautifully worded answer, but merely an acknowledgment that the status quo should cause not only discomfort but also an action to do better. 

Instead of offering empty apologies from the church pews, the Church should stand and begin to walk.

Note: This article was originally published as an op-ed in Mar’s Hill Newspaper last year in light of the 2020 Presidential election in the States. Many of my personal views have shifted and morphed since then due to a critical deconstruction of political partisanship, however, much of my analysis of the ideologies of cultural cultivation remains a constant. I have not traveled back to the United States in nearly a year- contributing to a mixture of cultural detachment and numbing the sense of homesickness. Reflecting a year later on this piece I still have a plethora of unanswered questions regarding this issue and quite welcome both criticism and critique. I recognize my inherent bias and the experiences leading to these formed ideologies, however, my hope is a continual growth in knowledge and empathy.

In the children’s classic Peter Pan, Wendy, the story’s protagonist, asks a simple, yet profound question: “boy, why are you crying?” Similar to Peter Pan, this inquiry has left me unable to articulate the reason for my grief except that maybe, just maybe, it has to do with Neverland. 

In the early 1900s, G.K. Chesterton critiqued the growing divide between institutionalized religion and English patriotism idealism, “The point is not that this world is too sad to love or too glad not to love; the point is that when you do love a thing, its gladness is a reason for loving it, and its sadness a reason for loving it more.”

The naivety of the Lost Boys parallels this narrative of the American patriot: one who examines their homeland through pixie dust-coated glasses. Patriotism has become a dirty word. However, this stems from a gross misinterpretation of the term properly contextualized. Patriotism is exposure to the naked truth: her flaws, scars, bruises, deformities, and her citizens choosing to stay and doctor her bloody wounds.

America is not a utopian Neverland––that has never been the goal. Try as we will, our bureaucratic limit is our own wretchedness.

America is not a utopian Neverland––that has never been the goal. Try as we will, our bureaucratic limit is our own wretchedness. In The Garden of Eden, Adam and Eve were commanded to cultivate their community, not abandon it. The underlying premise is this: we are residents of earth and citizens of heaven. Patriotism exists as another form of stewardship. In its proper context it is cultivating; bringing water to your community, tilling the soil around you, and bringing forth light and transparency to the garden.

French Diplomat, Alexis De Tocqueville observed in Democracy in America that America’s greatness is not found in her enlightenment, but rather in her ability to “repair her faults.” I am not blind to the sores that plague this country. It is an imperfect story tainted with injustice––it is history, not a fairy tale of faith, trust, and pixie dust.

So, how did we get here? Lady Liberty, traditionally portrayed as a beacon of independence and hope, now looks like a ragged old showgirl. A friend of mine recently described the American election this way: “when it’s not your country, it’s like watching the neighbors get a divorce. But when you are American, it’s your parents that are divorcing.”

Neverland has morphed into the dystopian Lord of the Flies narrative, where the Lost Boys have started battling each other. Politics have become our god: we have sacrificed religion, relationship, and reason at the altar. No one person brought us here and no one person can lead us out, pitting politicians as neither angels nor demons––they are merely residents of Neverland. 

We must stop pointing fingers. Stop blaming capitalism, patriarchy, the one percent, greedy corporations, media, Democrats, Republicans, Christians, and the atheists. The problem is not “them,” the issue is you and I. It is necessary to take social responsibility. After all, it is this blame game that destroyed Eden too. 

I love my country because she is mine. I love her not because she is not faultless, but rather because she is full of faults yet still worth loving. As G.K. Chesterton wrote, “love is not blind; that is the last thing it is. Love is bound, and the more bound it is the less it is blind.” My soul aches at the current state of the union. In Peter Pan, we know Captain Hook is the villain, but in real life, it isn’t so clear.

In Peter Pan, we know Captain Hook is the villain, but in real life, it isn’t so clear.

This upcoming election is not a matter of good guys versus bad guys––there are heroic Lost Boys and mangey Pirates on both sides wearing thick masks of Red and Blue. We have lost the ability to see one another as anything other than enemies. We have erased humanity from “We the People.”  

America is not a geographical location; it is the Lost Boys, the Captain Hooks, the Wendys, the Tinker Bells, and the Peter Pans. Very real fictional characters GPSing to heaven on earth: “second to the right and then straight on till morning.” And that is just it, The Great American Dicotmany. 

Peter Pan believed in the magic of patriotic idealism; that Neverland is a grand oasis, a safe haven. Her birth preceded 1776, she was conceived deep in the souls of the Lost Boys and Girls who fought tyranny and built a nation. Neverland is great not because of who she is, but because of who loves her. Maybe it is not naivety, but rather the preservation of wonder. Peter Pan warned Wendy: “Even though you want to try to, never grow up.”

Neverland is great not because of who she is, but because of who loves her.

But, that is the tragedy, Wendy did grow up––she became old and grey. “In time [she] could not even fly after [her] hat. ‘Want of practice’, [she] called it; but what it really meant was that [she] no longer believed.” Wendy gave up on Neverland, the Fairies, the Lost Boys, and Peter Pan. Wendy still lived a good life, but not a grand one. She said goodbye, and goodbye as we know means forgetting. And that, if you must know, is why I am crying Wendy Darling because I am a Lost Boy feeling far away from Neverland and afraid that I will grow up like Wendy, and forget how to fly.

Since the Genesis narrative of the Biblical fall, we have been struggling to restore, rebuild, and redeem what we squandered in the garden. Despite thousands of years of brilliant essays, inspiring speeches, and bloody revolutions- man has never succeeded in building another utopia.

While this exposition is, in theory, is a reflection of my views concerning culture, law, and public policy; it is also a wrestling of how our fractured society is and how it ought to be. A surplus of political commentators, philosophers, and legal scholars much smarter than I have all attempted to tackle enigmas much like this and are still left with more questions than answers. So, here is my feeble endeavor to present a reasoned analysis of government and culture. 

First and foremost, I am a vigorous advocate of the separation of church and state. I would like to examine law, public policy, and cultural change as separate entities. The pages of history produce narratives of tyrannical governments that forcibly instituted religion on their people- consequently, a myriad of horrific human rights violations and vehement persecution resulted.  The French Revolutions in the late 1700s is an excellent case study of where a monarch endeavored to be God and the people revolted. 

I believe that not only should individuals be given the freedom to choose their religion, but furthermore, should also be guaranteed the constitutional liberty to debate and discuss ideologies that oppose their own. This is where law and policy act as safeguards to protect the evolution of culture. Public discourse regarding such topics is an essential aspect of a flourishing and healthy society that encourages a collective quest for truth. The government should remain as neutral as possible within this discussion. 

The counterargument to this ideology is the question: “can a society legislate morality without religion?” While philosophers like Immanuel Kant argued that morality can be concluded by reason alone- with the absence of a divine being. One must still recognize the undeniable impact that spirituality and religion play in culture building. 

Andy Crouch in his book Culture Making discusses various definitions of culture, one of which is “religion externalized” consequentially leading to the “manifestation of your worship”.  Western countries like Canada and the United States acknowledge the sovereignty of a Judeo-Christian God in their governing documents; while much of the Middle East still strictly practice Sharia law.  In both of these cases, either the Quran or the Torah is an underlying influence that presents itself in their culture, policy, and laws. 

While we won’t achieve utopia on this side of heaven we can do our best to avoid creating hell.

I believe that culture is the driving agent behind how we practice law and propose policy. Without culture, there would be no requirement for law or policy, and culture could not survive without the latter two. Each culture is reflected and protected in the concrete aspects of law and policy. 

As I conclude I recognize that my own view of utopia still carries with it a plethora of flaws, caveats, and drawbacks.  We can still do our best to support the quest for truth. While we won’t achieve utopia on this side of heaven we can do our best to avoid creating hell.

Originally written on September 4, 2019

This summer I took a picture of every sunset I saw (52 to be exact). Each one of these pictures contains a very special story. I’m definitely not a writer- but bear with me as I feebly attempt to articulate my thoughts.

These sunsets bookend a chapter for each day- some I wish I could rewind and others I only want to live once.

Different colors.

Different people.

Different places.

Different lessons.

But the same Son.

Call me a softie, but sunsets make me cry. And I think it’s because it reminds me of the constant sovereignty of a good God- because no matter how the day ends, the Son rises.

The sun sheds light, brings warmth, and makes the plants grow. We all live and breathe and cry and dance and laugh and love under the same sun. It’s one of the few things that we all have in common. No matter who you are, what you do, where you are- we all operate within the jurisdiction of the same Son.

I have begun to see a glimpse into the eternal by understanding the importance of silence and simply stopping to watch as God paints- never to be repeated again. Like a child in awe as she watches dad do the “magic” trick again and again with the same eagerness as before.

It became about remembering. Oh how often we forget! We grow numb to the beauty right before us. Let’s not underestimate the simple act of dedicating the time to stop and remind ourselves that life is about something so much greater than us.

Let’s not underestimate the simple act of dedicating the time to stop and remind ourselves that life is about something so much greater than us.

While sunsets traditionally represent “The End”- they also usher in hope and the promise of a new day.

So because of that -it is well with my soul because no matter how good or how bad-the sun always sets and makes all things new. Amen.

In C.S. Lewis’s book, The Problem of Pain he writes, “We can ignore even pleasure. But pain insists upon being attended to. God whispers to us in our pleasures, speaks in our conscience, but shouts in our pains: it is His megaphone to rouse a deaf world.” Pain and suffering are an inherent part of the human experience-our very existence begin through our mother’s tremendous and excruciating pain.

Pain quite literally births life, the metaphor here is apparent. There is meaning in suffering. It’s an intrinsic part of who we are. Instead of being surprised by pain, perhaps we should be surprised by joy. God did not even spare His own begotten son the affliction of this world. Instead, He sent Jesus Christ directly into a hurting and broken world to suffer alongside sinners and eventually die because of us. Jesus suffers alongside the brokenhearted. One of the greatest mysteries is that God became incarnate to become intimate with grief.

Christ’s first experience with pain wasn’t on the cross, it was the essence and the entirety of His ministry.

Holy God walks directly into the heart of misery. Jesus is relational. He knows. He sees. He cares. He loves.  Christ’s first experience with pain wasn’t on the cross, it was the essence and the entirety of His ministry. John 11:35 is the shortest verse in the Bible, yet behind two words hides deep theological meaning, “Jesus wept.” Why did He weep? For the same reason that Jesus grieved, laughed, mourned, and knocked over tables; because He experienced the whole spectrum of human emotions- including profound pain. Jesus wept because quite frankly, there is a lot to weep about. Our Heavenly Father doesn’t push us away when we cry out, instead, He turns to find us among the crowd when we touch the hem of His robe.

So take courage my dear heart because you are known, seen, and loved by your Maker.

“There’s much more to life than we’ve been told. It’s full of beauty that will unfold. And shine like you struck gold, my wayward son. That deadweight burden weighs a ton. Go down to the river and let it run. And wash away all the things you’ve done. Forgiveness. Farther along we’ll know all about it. Farther along we’ll understand why. So cheer up my brothers, live in the sunshine. All by and by”

(Further Along, Josh Garrels).

Blaise Pascal, a 17th-century philosopher made the claim in Pensées that “all of humanity’s problems stem from man’s inability to sit quietly in a room alone.” While a bit aggressive- he has a case. We fill empty silences with words, long drives with music, blank walls with pictures, sadness with pills, waiting with scrolling, and honest questions with shallow answers. The noise of our self-imposed barriers is what drowns out the most precious and profound revelations. It’s no wonder that the birth of incarnate Jesus Christ occurred on a silent night.

Silence breeds intimacy and intimacy reflects truth. Intimacy is presenting our raw and naked souls before Love Himself. As C.S. Lewis wrote, “To love is to be vulnerable.” Vulnerability tenderly peels back the stiff mask that conceals our blemishes and blunders; stares into our tear-filled eyes says “I know” and loves us still. Stillness cracks open our souls just enough to seep in holy light, it is a pause to let the eternal gently kiss the present. With each breath, we quiet our hearts long enough to hear that still small voice.

Solitude shouldn’t be something that we run from, but rather a practice to embrace-perhaps solitude is the antidote for loneliness.

Solitude shouldn’t be something that we run from, but rather a practice to embrace-perhaps solitude is the antidote for loneliness. Henri Nouwen wrote that “It is in this solitude that we discover that being is more important than having and that we are worth more than the result of our efforts.” It’s coming face to face with the omnipresence of the most powerful, mysterious being in the universe. This reality should be the only reason we fear solitude- because the veil has been torn. We should tremble in awe that wretched beings like ourselves can kneel in the presence of God’s indescribable glory.
Often we think God wears camouflage- but maybe we are the ones hiding.

I heard it said that what if the reason that God uses silence to speak to our hearts is because that’s how close He is? We just need to be quiet enough to hear a whisper. Solitude gives you the space to hear the anguish of your own soul, to see the face of your deepest hopes, and truly experience your thoughts without distraction.

That my friends, is why silence is not quiet -and solitude is far from lonely.

“How are you?”

The subsequent reaction to this inquiry tends to be a habitual, “Good, and you?” Our response is a prescripted reflex. Rarely do we acknowledge the simple yet profound depth of this question.

“How are you?”

It’s casual small talk while at the checkout line, shouted from the mouth of a busy student while rushing off to class, asked by an old friend while catching up over a cup of coffee, tenderly inquired by a nurse while caring for a patient in the hospital bed, whispered to a loved one while soaking in the silence of deep grief.

“How are you?”

This question can either provide a space for exciting giddy life updates or unlock the floodgates for earthshattering news. We rarely ever ask it of ourselves and often don’t listen when anyone asks us.

“How are you?”

Conversation is life-giving, yet small talk is played like a game of tennis. It’s a sport of back and forth, back and forth, and ends with no clear winner. We’ve all been asked this question at some point. These three words are thrown around as customary and even anticipated dialogue. However, the real answer hidden behind this question is often deeper than most of us are willing to say or listen to in a passing conversation.

“How are you?”

These three words reveal a deeply personal question that is often a filler for small talk. Instead, this should be a question that allows us to empathize with one another. To grieve, to celebrate, to speak, and to listen. We are commanded to bear each other’s burdens yet how often do we unravel plastered smiles and expose our hearts on our sleeves? What would the world look like if we asked more simple, yet intentional questions? How would we be different if we listened when we asked and were honest when we answered?

So, “how are you?”

Every Sunday I go to the same coffee shop, it’s a reminder to pause- to soak in the meaning of Sabbath. Just like clockwork, I sit at the same coffee table surrounded by the laughter and wisdom of my dearest friends.

On this particular Sabbath, I sit in my car- alone. Instead of being in the company of my favorite smiling coffee table faces, I am surrounded by full boxes containing the remains of an empty dorm and unmet expectations.
On the Sabbath of March 29th, the entire world hurts as a collective community. This pandemic’s invisible fingers have stolen regardless of age, race, sex, social status, national identity, or religion.

This pandemic’s invisible fingers have stolen regardless of age, race, sex, social status, national identity, or religion.

Today every nation, tribe, and tongue is battling the same faceless enemy. The mysterious paradox is that we are unprecedentedly united, yet so physically separated.COVID is a reality that was not invited- but nonetheless, it’s here at our doorstep. If we knew- maybe we would have hugged a little tighter, kissed a little more, stayed a little longer, and said “I love you” far more often. But then again, uncertainty is nothing new. If anything, we are reminded of the fragility of life and our own plans.

Deep down in all of our souls, we know that this world isn’t as it should be-but most of us spend a lifetime sewing makeshift bandages to cover the stench of that unsettling truth- it takes tragedy to come along and peel away our pathetic attempt to cover our bloody wounds.

Sabbath is supposed to let the eternal soak into our monotony, pain, and joy. It’s contemplating that “God is good” is not just an ideology- but a promise. This simple, yet profound statement requires more than just a passing thought- but a lifetime of Sabbaths.
How ironic that on this Sabbath the busiest society in history is paused. May we see this Sabbath as more than just a Sunday- but as the name for the unknown months ahead.

Live life to the utmost in the waiting- because after all, we are always waiting for something. Joy isn’t found in the best of times, it’s often found in the very worst. So rejoice-rejoice in the waiting, the mundane, the discontentment, the headache, the trials, the loss, the longings of our souls- remember the Sabbath.