Human nature tends toward isolation. We tend to hold grudges, to become righteously indignant, to break ties and burn bridges. I see this repeatedly even in how the church talks about fellow members of the body. Those with similar views are are rarefied paragons. Those holding a dissenting opinion are dangerous villains.

It’s much easier to throw stones than it is to hold fast to community. We’re called to build our entire network out of love. But most often the authors, the pundits, the artists, the musicians and the bloggers create because they have an axe to grind. In fact, viewed through that lens this post might even be seen to fit into that human nature agenda. So to ward that off, let me say go on record that finding dissension is missing the point. Our fight is to love, to bring harmony, to inspire unity, to effect peace. I have an axe to grind with everyone out of sync with that. There are myriads.

Humans tend to try to satisfy craving with more craving, rather than trying to find something to fully, finally satisfy it. We go with what we know, even when it’s obvious it’s not working. This is addiction, and it manifests itself in many ways that aren’t defined clinically.

It’s also clear that people aren’t honest about this with themselves. Repeatedly through my life I hear the expression “I had such a great time last night — I don’t remember any of it.” Okay, waitasec — you had a “great time” that you can’t remember? What you are aware of the next day is how horrible you feel, and taking stock of the dangerous activity you engaged in that put you in relational and physical jeopardy. And you can’t wait to do it again!? That’s a crazy way to live. But, you know what? I sort of get it. I think.

Here’s my take: it’s a quest for adventure. People use a substance to get them to a place where they’re creating something, feeling something or thinking something that they won’t permit themselves to naturally. Sometimes however there are very good reasons for them not to. What people create under the influence often carries real danger and real consequences, and it’s really hard to decipher those when inside it. So then they’re always trying to get themselves out of a jam. There’s no denying that it’s fun to get out of a jam — it’s called drama for a reason. (I do it by going to the limit on a deadline, and then surfing the adrenaline surge to finish on time. Usually.) But these are artificial, meaningless crises. And sometimes you just can’t get out of unscathed.

I think we need to recognise that there are shades of that in all of us. There is always a vice nipping at your heels. Maybe it’s lying dormant in an unconsidered part of yourself — some secret assumption you’ve never questioned. More likely it’s right on the tip of your tongue. What is the vice that leads you to make your itch more itchy, instead of finding the scratch? What lengths are you prepared to go to remove it? Or are you really just content with that glass of salt you’re drinking?

Human nature tends to head for the ditches. It is very hard to live in the kind of balanced tension it takes to keep the car on the road: when faced with people, circumstances or stuff, we tend to veer to one side or another. They are either blissfully wondrous, or monstrously villainous. It’s hard to hold that people are complex beings, and no matter what you expect from them (good or bad), and no matter how often they deliver it, they will inevitably surprise you with the opposite.

It doesn’t just apply to people though. It’s also their creations. The internet offers great social potential, but there are great social costs. Cars offer great benefit to our lives, but have a cost on our environment. Everything we do has an intended benefit and an unintended cost. This type of evaluation is critical, but is woefully underdeveloped in our culture. In fact, most people actively head for one ditch or another.

Nothing is all good. Nothing is all bad. Being ready for the inevitable surprise will help you deal with it when it comes. If you’re not, the shock of it may throw you long enough to miss the opportunity to capitalise on it.

Our human nature tends to push us into more. It’s sort of a “body in motion tends to stay in motion” thing. But Newton’s principle in physics doesn’t account for acceleration in emotions!

If our natural inclination is to be offended, we tend to do things that enable us to become more offended, including retell the story in such a way that others can share and grow the offence. (Listeners tend to join in the game, rather than offer the speaker perspective.) Unchecked pride causes others to turn off and tune out, which is isolating, and can reinforce the superiority that sparked it in the first place. (“Who needs them anyway?”)

Difficulty turns into despair. Bitterness leads to hatred. Anger degenerates to rage. Conflict escalates to war.

This is the natural way of the world, so it’s no wonder that God’s wisdom looks like foolishness to us.

We demand that things make sense, and we need a frame of logic. However, there are things that are far beyond our ability to understand. When pressed so hard for meaning, life is bound to frustrating, baffling disappointment.

In one of our deeper conversations, a buddy of mine once said to me “I hope that God is at least logical!” Unfortunately for my good friend’s sentiment, I’ve come to believe that God supersedes our capacity for logic. Perhaps the rules that govern him are logical to him, and in eternity perhaps one day we’ll understand. But I have my doubts. It might be that logic itself is a testament to human frailty. That’s not to say that it should be abandoned, for here on Earth it’s a pretty useful device for understanding and making ourselves understood. I’m merely opining that God does not submit to our constructs. Or does only when it suits him.

The Bible is full of God sightings that don’t make sense on a human level. Even now, with all the technology we have at our disposal, a burning bush would be pretty remarkable. As would water turning into wine. And pretty regularly, even today, when God has a point to make, he shows up in ways that can’t be simply explained away — at least not to the people to whom it matters most. Even if sometimes we wish we could.