Aerodynamics

I noticed something recently about our fallen nature. 

It's a basic tenet of Christianity that we were designed to be perfect. When humanity was crafted from the dust of an idealised planet, our Designer had wonders in mind. He dreamt of a race devoted wholly to love and goodness, capable of reaching its full potential without darkness clouding the way. When sin, death and thorns entered the picture not two chapters later, our natures were corrupted. Our potential became hidden from us; and neither love nor goodness seemed nearly as great and possible as before. For the past ten years or so, I've been describing us as "broken" people; and I think that's an accurate image - we were made for better, but there are springs loose in our clockwork.

At the same time, science seems to keep pointing to an incredible mastery of design in how we broken people work. Physically, mentally and emotionally, we are really quite skillfully assembled. When we do healthy things, make healthy choices, we can even feel the goodness of it.  Think of how you feel after eating an apple as opposed to pizza or how you feel after a run as opposed to a day lazing about. When you've spent some time thanking God, aren't your spirits higher than they would be if you'd spent that time whining instead? It is clear to everyone who does what is best that "best" is what we were built for.

Yet something is off. If we are so well-made, why do we do all the stupid things we do?  Why do we let ourselves get SO unhealthy? (When I say "we", I definitely include myself.) Why do we fall into the silliest traps? Why is it so hard to do the things we were built to do, if in fact we were built to do them?

I've come to the conclusion that there is a distinction between our design and our nature. It seems counter-intuitive to make this distinction, I'll admit. After all, if wind is designed to blow, won't it also be in it's nature to do so? If a lion is designed to eat meat, won't it run counter his nature to convert to vegetarianism? How can a designed thing's nature be counter to its design?

My favourite author, the good mister Clive Lewis, defined "nature" (actually, "natural") this way:

I begin by considering the following sentences (1) Are those his natural teeth or a set? (2) The dog in his natural state is covered with fleas. (3) I love to get away from tilled lands and metalled roads and be alone with Nature. (4) Do be natural. Why are you so affected? (5) It may have been wrong to kiss her but it was very natural.

A common thread of meaning in all these usages can easily be discovered. The natural teeth are those which grow in the mouth; we do not have to design them, make them, or fit them. The dog's natural state is the one he will be in if no one takes soap and water and prevents it. The countryside where Nature reigns supreme is the one where soil, weather and vegetation produce their results unhelped and unimpeded by man. Natural behaviour is the behaviour which people would exhibit if they were not at pains to alter it. The natural kiss is the kiss which will be given if moral or prudential considerations do not intervene. In all the examples Nature means what happens 'of itself or 'of its own accord': what you do not need to labour for; what you will get if you take no measures to stop it. The Natural is what springs up, or comes forth, or arrives, or goes on, of its own accord: the given, what is there already: the spontaneous, the unintended, the unsolicited.

Here's what I mean:

An airplane is designed for flight. Everything about a plane, from the shape of its body to the type of paint it's coated with, is intended for being thousands of feet away from the ground. The very reason it exists is to give us bird-brained humans a shot at bird-like behaviour.

And yet...

 

Somehow I doubt that, left to its own devices, an airplane would do any flying. In its natural state, an airplane is about as birdlike as a sheet of paper. (Come to think of it, a sheet of paper left on a desk really has a better chance of getting airborne.) To get that airplane out of its natural state and into the functions of its design, you have to insert a trained professional and fight against all kinds of forces - predictable and unpredictable alike. Gravity, weather and the pilot's gag reflex are just a few.

How like us is that?

I know that, when I do physical activities, I usually feel great. The feeling I get is, "This is completely in keeping with what I was made for." My body was built for an active lifestyle. When I drink tea and avoid soda, that feeling's there again because tea is more compatible to my body's design than soda is. When I confess sin, accept forgiveness and do the right thing, there it is. When I minister to people - across the world or at home - I feel like I've found my place in this weird, weird world.

Yet, it seems like it takes such effort for me to do those things. To make myself get out of bed and go do something wonderfully strenuous seems SO contrary to my nature. The principles of gravitation, Newtons' first law of motion and Isaac's rule of  "it's rude to get up before the Sun because he's a light sleeper" all conspire to keep me beneath my blankets. I sometimes feel like I could use a trained professional just for THAT task! To reject the very foods that make me feel gross is a struggle because my wallet and clock tell me that it's cheaper and quicker to do otherwise. And, gosh darnnit, I like pizza!

Ministry. Now, there's the personal side to all this. I love helping people. I love teaching people things, sharing God's work in my life and being someone others can turn to for whatever I have to give. Actually, the idea of "This is what I'm built for" occurred to me first with reference to ministry. I've noticed in the past year or so that, once I start, ministering comes easily. It's getting started that feels like dead-lifting a beluga. 

Hence this blog. 

This blog is me making that effort. I want to share what God's taught me; I want to encourage people. I've been beating around the bush about doing ministry since August 2011; and it's time I changed that. It's time I committed myself to something outside of my comfort zone. Writing is something I love doing; but it feels weird to put it "out there" for other people. It feels a little arrogant, to be honest. It's something, though. It's a start. Whether it is actually helping or not, I'll leave up to you to judge.

I believe that, one day, God will bring my design and my nature into unity. That, when left to my own devices, I will do ministry, eat all the great things He made me to eat, run and jump about without hesitation, annoy the Sun into wakefulness without apology and maybe even get around to making my own sushi. I believe that, for every Christian, the same applies. One day, we airplanes will take flight of our own accord.

In the meantime...