Shrodinger's Theological Cat

I am writing this in hospital. I was having some seizures, down my left arm; when after one particularly painful incident, I went to A&E. Here, they diagnosed focal epilepsy, caused by tumours in the brain. At the moment, therefore, the staff are investigating to discover if these are primary cancers or secondary ones, derived from elsewhere in my body.

It reminds me of the story about Shrodinger’s Cat, a much over-used (even abused) trope from theoretical physics: a thought-experiment to illustrate the random nature of radioactive decay. Shrodinger suggested imagining a cat stuck in a box, with a radioactive particle, which might decay, or not; but whenever it did, it would release a poison, killing the cat.

In the experiment, however, the outcome would only become apparent, when the box was opened (it was a particularly cruel thought experiment!). Until that time, Shrodinger hypothesised, the cat would be in a superposition, of bring simultaneously dead and alive. It seems to me, that this is the position we Christians are frequently in; and I especially, in my present predicament.

We soon discover, however, that Shrodinger’s box has sub-compartments. At each step, there are alternatives; and after each answer, another question. Firstly, were the seizures due to an infection, or cancer? Finding the latter, the question is whether this is a primary cancer, or a secondary, caused from elsewhere in the body. We are still in this phase, as the doctors go through a battery of tests. But even then, there will be other examinations to discover more.

The whole process is a journey, an adventure. And this is moreover a picture of the Christian life. We proceed by way of uncertainty, albeit on a road of faith. This, however, is more a matter of ‘faith in’, rather than ‘faith that’. That is, trust in a person, Jesus Christ; rather than in any particular outcome. While I believe in, and pray for, Divine healing, I also know that the only certain outcome of life is death; which will come to us all at the end. 

At the moment, I am at peace. Whatever happens, I am calm, in the presence of his Presence. This comes as something of a surprise to me, after a lifetime of frequent deep depressions. But this situation is something different. My experience of depression has been largely endogenous: that is, internally generated, rather than a response to external problems. These latter I have mostly been able to react to, as challenges, to life and faith: so, strangely, for example, the pandemic has been a good one for me, with busyness and effort in God-directed response to gospel need.

What I am finding now, is that after having talked with many people over forty years of ministry, giving them reassurances of Christ’s love, I find it is all true. Perhaps I shouldn’t be so surprised. But the promises are real. They have “cash value”, as Willliam James’ philosophical pragmatisim would put it. They can be banked in the account of practical experience. Jesus is here, now, with me.

Of course, I am not naïve. At the moment, I am not in extreme pain, and so I am easily able to rise to the occasion. Nevertheless, as I reflect, I note that in recent years I have met many mature Christians, who have experienced severe illness. But they have, I believe, often done so from a position of fear, as if death were the worst thing that could happen to them; whereas the hope which Christ offers is precisely that of eternal life. Their prayers for healing have therefore often appeared to be the product of desperation, rather than quiet trust. Thus we too often demand of God what we want, instead of trusting in his Divine disposition.

The beneficial effects of Charismatic Renewal and Liberation Theology have helped us to rediscover the this-worldly orientation of God’s Kingdom, towards change in the here-and-now. But there has also been an unfortunate tendency to concurrently de-emphasise the important of the other-worldly, eternal dimension of that Kingdom: that while the New Life in Christ begins now, and has temporal blessings, it progresses on beyond this limited life, for ever.

While here, I have been re-reading C. S Lewis’s classic book, Mere Christianity. Although dated, and with occasionally outmoded remarks (especially towards women), it still contains many important insights. Chief is his attempt, as a lyrical poetic thinker, to “look over the rim of the world”, into the future God has in store for us. For, in this life, God is gradually forming us into the type of beings, which we could never imagine, in order to be fit for that Divine Order.

What we signed up for, as new believers, was only a dim set of hopes, for deliverance from relatively minor problems, without suspecting the sheer extent of the destiny, which our Lord had in store for us, and which he graciously hid from us, lest we baulk at the beauty of the glory which awaits us: total and complete transformation, into his likeness - when all will be in all, and he will be in all.