Tag: bible

My Story I

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“Almost everyone can agree that one of the big differences between us and our ancestors of five hundred years ago is that they lived in an ‘enchanted’ world, and we do not.”

Charles Taylor

If I had to distil my entire life into one thing, it would be the search for ‘magic.’ From an early age, I was fascinated by other and bigger things. I remember running around in the yard trying to dig up fossils, reading books about ancient Egypt, and going to the science centre for my birthday (all I wanted were Pokemon Cards). I loved reading books like Eragon, Harry Potter, and The Chronicles of Narnia. My favourite video games as a kid were anything with a sword or gun, but in particular, it was The Legend of Zelda: Ocarina of Time (OoT), released on November 21 1998, that I loved the most. I played the heck out of that thing. For those who don’t know, OoT is the first attempt at an open-world 3d game and is considered by many to be the greatest video game of all time, scoring almost a perfect score on every gaming website. In the game, you could trek into deep forests, climb high mountains, swim rivers and lakes, visit populated villages, and save princesses. But the most essential element in the game was that the world felt more alive, authentic, and meaningful than the one I lived in.


Now, you can chalk all this up to a young boy indulging in escapism, having a wild imagination, not yet matured. I get that. If that’s the case, I’ve never grown up. Maturity, for me, has been less about searching for the magic in the world and more about realising it was here all along. Western Culture (the Church has a massive role in this) has veritably done away with the world in the wardrobe, the sacred groves in the forests, the transcendent high places that strike awe in the beholder, and traded it in for formulas, fast food spirituality and living—a bland, tasteless existence. Can you hardly blame me then for chasing hedonism in place of ‘magic?’ The moment I was able to, I chased women, started clubbing, and partying in a desperate bid to experience the world afresh. However, much like the Preacher in Ecclesiastes, it was all meaningless. I needed more. I wanted more. I craved something more until, one day, I tasted a bit of that lost ‘magic.’


I would love to tell you that once I met Jesus, everything changed, life got better, and the drudgery of life washed away in a sea of awe and wonder. It didn’t. The decision to follow Jesus has been met with suffering and hardship: death, divorce, broken hearts, depression, and a lot of uncertainty and doubt. Christianity hasn’t made things clearer for me. What it has done, however, is rebuilt me through trials in a way life never would have in and of its own.


When I met Jesus, it was off the back of a failed relationship that had gone through an abortion. I was still interested in something other than life, but ultimately, the decision to try out Jesus was just another day and another choice. There was no voice from heaven, no beam of light, no stirring deep within my soul. I just decided that Jesus probably had some good things to say and was worth listening to. Since then, over the years, slowly but surely, Jesus has peeled back the layers of my disenchanted heart and shown me that what I was looking for was under my nose the entire time. Salvation for me has been a slow transformative process, not a single instant event. The Cross is less about (but not void of) any atonement theory and more about a pathway into the world unified unto God, the created world, and My Self. As I nerded out over theology, the bible, and spirituality, I realised every church and gathering could be a sacred grove. Every door opened could have a Narnia behind it. Every road travelled could be turned into a pilgrimage. I’ve been a Christian for over ten years, and I can say that God hasn’t finished turning this mess into a slightly less mess.

I look forward to where He’ll have me in another ten. For now I will leave you with this quote:

The Christian story of incarnation in the body of a boy- a boy whose ancestors were both famous and infamous – is one that can spur us towards living with the courage that is indigenous to us. To be human is to be in the image of something good, and image comes from imagination. To be human is to be in the imagination of God, and the imagination is the source of integrity as well as cracks. To be born is to be born into a story of possibility, a story of failure, a story of imagination and the failure of imagination. To be born is to be born with the possibility of courage. Hello to courage.

Pádraig Ó Tuama

The Church of Eden

Camaron G. W. SmithLeave a comment

Some people, in order to discover God, read books. But there is a great book: the very appearance of created things. Look above you! Look below you! Note it. Read it. God, whom you want to discover, never wrote that book with ink. Instead, He set before your eyes the things that He had made. Can you ask for a louder voice than that?

Saint Augustine. The City of God, Book XVI

In my experience, Christianity and nature don’t go together. I think a lot of us Protestants are scared of making an idol out of cheese. Stepping out and getting any spiritual substance from nature feels like pagan worship. Nevertheless, for thousands of years, the Church and even the Old Testament Jews have had a rich tradition of finding God not only in the pages of sacred texts or within the walls of a temple or a church but in nature itself. For me, church on a Sunday can get boring. Nature doesn’t. At church, we have baptisms in a font. In nature, God baptises the world with ever-winding rivers, boundless oceans, and tranquil lakes. At church, we have choirs and bands that stir a crowd. In nature, God stirs the heart with the clap of the trees, the melody of the wind, and the euphony of the animals. At church, we preach from the Scriptures to teach, correct, and rebuke. In nature, God strikes the reader with awe as we pore over the stars. In church, we meet with God in sometimes clinical rituals, polished halls, and typically with masks on. In nature, we meet with God in untamed sacraments, wild establishments, and unmasked hearts.

I’m not a hippy. I don’t hug trees, and I’m not about to join PETA. I’m not even a good environmentalist. I love long showers, I’m often lazy with recycling, and I love a good steak. (and wings). There are days, weeks even where I’d rather spend my time playing video games, binging the Big Bang Theory, and scrolling through Facebook. I love rainy days, coffee, and sleeping in. As much as I know nature is a good place for me to be, it takes more effort than I’m proud to admit to get amongst. Nevertheless, when I’m forced to climb that mountain and see that view, or when I’m walking along the esplanade and I see the ocean stretched out before me, I’m always struck, even just a little, by how God takes up and dwells in more than the four walls of a church.

Elsewhere, I argue that our churches should be a slice of paradise. A taste of the newly created earth. A miniature Eden and a sacred space. I can’t remember the last time, if ever, where I felt awe-inspired, moved, and truly like I was treading hollowed ground in a church. Particularly within the Protestant tradition, we have demystified, disenchanted, and robbed our sacred spaces of their “magic.” We’ve traded awe and wonder for fog machines and light. We’ve sold profound unity and community and bought programs. We’ve replaced stories and myths with conversations about the weather and movies. We’ve exchanged God’s presence for “doing church.”

In the beginning, God created the world; it was wild and waste; there was darkness and chaos, but God’s Spirit hovered over the deep. Over six days, God moulded the world. He placed the stars, the sun, and the moon in the sky and gave them purpose. God divided the seas above from the waters below, filled them, and gave them purpose. He raised trees, shrubs, bushes, mountains, oceans, rivers, and streams from the earth and gave them purpose. God filled the world with birds, fish, and land animals and gave them purpose. He created humanity and gave them purpose. Finally, on the seventh day, God dwelled with what He had made, and there was purpose and goodness. This is how things are supposed to be in our local churches. Our local churches should feel like we’ve tasted a bit of heaven. Goodness, purpose, God’s presence, unity, flourishing, and life should all be markers of a healthy church. Yet I talk to people who experience emptiness, frustration, shallow relationships, trivial teachings, and superficial prayers every week. It seems that our churches are less Eden and more Tower of Babel.

2024

Camaron G. W. SmithLeave a comment

Some may or may not know I took a year off writing (despite this, I’ve had the most views since I started writing). In 2023, I posted one blog (I felt compelled then). It is 2024, and I’m slowly emerging out of blogging hibernation. From my first blog in 2015 to my next, as is faithful with most things in life, my theology and thoughts on Christian spirituality have evolved. I look back on my first blog and chuckle. I’m sure I’ll look back on 2024 in another ten years and cringe. Since I started blogging, I’ve started and graduated from bible college. I’ve married and remarried. I’ve gone through different jobs, moved around, and gone through various churches (finally, I’ve found a nice one to rest in). I’ve had my doubts and struggles. I’ve wanted to walk away from the faith. I’ve wanted to give up and try other things. Yet here I am, still tripping after Jesus (good blog title).

So what does this year hold for Scribbling Theology? More meaningless ramblings of a guy who has literally no idea what he’s talking about (I guarantee that). We’ll discuss God’s creation, beauty and some of the not-so-traditional ways of engaging with God. On the flip side, we’ll discuss the importance of finding a healthy community of believers where you can flourish. We’ll talk about liturgy and the importance of ancient rituals and beliefs. We’ll talk about how stories, both new and old, can transform us and lead us deeper into ourselves (collectively and individually) and into the presence of God. I’ll review a book or two (to start you off read, “How to Know a Person by David Brooks”), a podcast or three and maybe spin a poem. I don’t know where I’ll start or finish. But as always, Scribbling Theology has been an outlet, a creative and even spiritual practice that has helped me to release and vent my own thoughts.

Scribbling Journal: Entry 2

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Jesus came to me first through religious fervour and fanaticism. Christianity was almost a swear word, a kind of “you know who” or a “he who must not be named” sort of thing that, if you had to bring it up, an unsavoury taste lingered upon the tongue in conversation. Far too many stories were heard of priests molesting children and preachers zealously proclaiming “turn or burn” on street corners, causing most people who heard them to ignore their existence, if not shy away in embarrassment for them entirely.

My parents, and their parents, grew up in an age believing religion and politics weren’t things one talked about at the dinner table if one were to have a civil conversation. This is ludicrous because spirituality and politics are some of the most important topics of discussion when getting to a person’s heart. Never have I known a person more than when they painted for me a picture of the world and how they believe it can be fixed. If this kind of conversation were fostered more, maybe we’d be having very different conversations now about identity and the sorts.

It wasn’t until much later that I started to see Jesus as more than a “car salesman.” I had always been interested in mythology and spirituality, and as I started reading about new-age teachers, historians and storytellers, I learned that Jesus was a serious spiritual person. It just took hearing it from someone who wasn’t a Christian first for me to realise it. It still took me longer to trust in Jesus – whatever that means – or at least to give the Christian thing a red hot crack… here I am, still giving it a go more than ten years later.

I can’t tell you exactly what got me into trusting Jesus. Some would say it is the sovereignty of God, and others would say he filled the hole in my life or whatever (in some ways, I have more “holes” and “cracks” now than I ever did). As I got to know it more and more, the biblical story made the most sense of my humanity (or lack thereof), the world around me, and my place in it. I used to believe that the Bible was something you could sit down, read, understand, and walk away with. However, the Bible takes more than a lifetime to master. The Bible is the sort of literature you have to sit with over coffee or tea every day for the rest of your life. It is supposed to be read in a community, and It is the kind of story that moves from only the intellect to the centre of your being.

As I read the Bible more, Jesus started moving from being a spiritual guy who told us to love people (erg!) to him representing me. I can imagine the surfer Jesus that puts flowers in people’s hair and sings kumbaya coming out of the surf, pushing a craft beer in front of me and staring at me in the eye with a look of intense affection and saying, “Camaron, look at me. There’s more to life than what you lack. I can show you how to be more.” I think he would have an Aslan kind of effect on me. When he speaks, he shakes off the salt water from his long curls, but you shudder in fear and awe, and the space he commands has a certain gravitas. But instead of running away, you want more of him. You can’t help but be drawn to His presence. You hang off every word, even if they’re hard to hear.

“When we learn to read the story of Jesus and see it as the story of the love of God, doing for us what we could not do for ourselves–that insight produces, again and again, a sense of astonished gratitude which is very near the heart of authentic Christian experience.”

― N.T. Wright

I pray that we will all have that sense of astonished gratitude.

People and Apologetics

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I believe in Christianity as I believe that the sun has risen: not only because I see it, but because by it I see everything else.

C. S. Lewis

This is part II in a series on apologetics. If you want to read part I on “What is Apologetics?” click here. Enjoy!

Over the years, my relationship with apologetics has taken many turns. There was a time where you would find me arguing with university students until 3 or 4 in the morning about evolution vs creation or ethics at Gloria Jeans. I used to think if I could just come up with a really concise argument that was rational, it’d convince the world, and I’d be the next Billy Graham or whatever. Even though there is a lot of value in logic, facts, and arguments, I began to realise that even the most eloquent of arguments alone would never win over the hearts and minds of those who reject Jesus and His Gospel. Ironically, the more I studied at Bible college, the more Christianity became something more than an intellectual assent to a list of doctrines and beliefs. It wasn’t just “God is true because …”; instead, it became a “life, humanity, and the world makes sense because of God.” By Christianity, I saw and made sense (and am still making sense) of everything I see and experience. I started to move away from wanting to just win someone over to my way of thinking to seeing a real person. I wanted people to experience God and the world around them in the way they were always meant to. My focus shifted from a win-lose mentality to a sort of invitation-love-unity mentality. It is my conviction that when we engage in apologetics with other faiths and worldviews (even among people in our own Faith), we make enemies of them far too quickly because we forget some essential truths about those people.

  1. All of humanity is made in the image and likeness of God (Gen 1:26). This means a lot of different things to a lot of various scholars. I’ve written a bit about it here. However, here is a quick summary to make my point. For humanity to be made in the image of God means that they are to be a unified people that reflect God’s character to the created order by loving God, one another, and the world around them. Here’s the thing, this command was given to humanity in general, not just the Church. So every Muslim, Hindu, Sikh, Jew, New Ager, Atheist, Satanist, Witch, Wizard, Butcher, Baker, and Candlestick Maker have all been endowed with this “image” and are called to live it out. The only difference is that this is now only achievable in Christ as it is He who enables us by the Spirit to live out this calling. Nevertheless, the Genesis 1-3 story leads me to have a deep spiritual connection to everyone I talk to that stops me from having a win-lose mentality and instead makes me see them as human despite how flawed and sinful they are may be.
  2. The Hebrew Scriptures (the Old Testament) is about Yahweh (God) pursuing some of the most messed up people to ever exist. Israel’s story was full of the most bloodthirsty, faithless, abusive (sexually, physically, spiritually see Gen 16:1–16; 21:8–21), wicked (Is 13-23), idolatrous (Ex 32; Jer 2), murderous people (2 Sam 11-12). Yet, God still called them out to be His people, to represent Him and to be a kingdom of priests (or image bearers) to bring about His redemptive plan (Ex 19:6; Is 61:6). Don’t get me wrong, God hates sin (Ps 5:4-5), and I don’t think God ever intended sin to be a regular part of the human experience. However, on this side of the Fall (Gen 3), there is something very “human” about sin, brokenness and failure. It’s in that chaotic mess that God pursued Israel, and in turn, all of humanity in the person of Christ. What a picture of you, and what a picture of me. This is a constant reminder that God pursues me even as I fail, sin, and fall, and so to does He pursue every other person. God isn’t just trying to win over the person you’re talking about evolution with; he wants to transform them. Israel already knew God existed, right? God had already freed them from slavery, and even after He gave them the promised land, they continued to rebel. God wanted to transform and renew (Jer 31:31; Ezek 36:26), not just convince them of a set of doctrines and laws.
  3. Obviously, Israel didn’t always do a good job of being that royal priestly image-bearing kingdom of people God wanted them to be. Transformation was yet to come. This is where Jesus comes in. Read the Gospels. God comes in the likeness of human flesh (Lk 2:1-20; Rom 8:3), He travels around and preaches the Good News of the Kingdom of God (Matt 3:2, 4:17, 5-7), He performs miracles (John 2:1-11, 4:46-54, 5:1-15, 6:5-14, 6:16-24), and teaches people about Himself (Lk 4:21). Jesus gives up His life to be a ransom for many (Mk 10:45), He was raised from the dead (Mk 16), and before He ascends, He tells His disciples there’s more. He wants to transform, renew, and empower His people to be what Adam, Eve, and Israel couldn’t be. So He sends His Spirit to dwell among those who have trusted in Jesus (John 14:16, 15:26, 16:7; Acts 1-2). Jesus wants to bring everyone into an empowered family of people who image God and love one another. He doesn’t just want to convince them that He is real.

For me, this passage wraps up the vision Jesus has in the Gospels quite well:


Then I saw a new heaven and a new earth, for the first heaven and the first earth had passed away, and the sea was no more. And I saw the holy city, new Jerusalem, coming down out of heaven from God, prepared as a bride adorned for her husband. And I heard a loud voice from the throne saying, “Behold, the dwelling place of God is with man. He will dwell with them, and they will be his people, and God himself will be with them as their God. He will wipe away every tear from their eyes, and death shall be no more, neither shall there be mourning, nor crying, nor pain any more, for the former things have passed away.”
And he who was seated on the throne said, “Behold, I am making all things new.” Also, he said, “Write this down, for these words are trustworthy and true.” And he said to me, “It is done! I am the Alpha and the Omega, the beginning and the end. To the thirsty I will give from the spring of the water of life without payment (see also 2 Cor 5:17).

Revelation 21:1-6


Let’s circle back for a moment. A person is sitting across the table from you, and internally you are seething because they won’t accept that the earth is 6000 years old (“exasperated sigh”), or that ethics is static, or that Jesus died for their sin. As you try to stoically sip your triple-shot mocha with a pump of caramel, try to remember that there is more at stake here than trying to win an argument. These are real, fallen, broken, complex sinning, loving, crazy, logically irrational people that God loves. Loving your neighbour or your “enemy” is as important as getting across your point. As I have theologically demonstrated in this article, reflecting on the person’s substance will help remind you that they are a human to love, not just an argument to win.