A friend of mine is very much a photography fanatic. Fortunately he is
also a fantastic photographer so his mania has an excellent and
productive outlet. One of his recent purchases is what is known as a box
camera. A box camera is pretty much exactly what it sounds like: a
large wooden box. There are a number of advantages to this machine,
chiefly the fact that it takes much larger film than normal which means
it can produce very high quality prints. For those of you unfamiliar
with old-school film and prints, think of it as doubling the resolution
of the best digital camera you can buy.
In many ways my friends prized possession is a throwback to the earliest days of photography. Search the web for pictures of photographers practicing their art around the turn of the 20th century: the cameras they used are a far cry from the modern devices used today, but look virtually identical to the device my friend recently purchased.
Modern cameras rely on computers and specialized electronic devices to capture an image. The first cameras, however, used chemically treated paper, or film, in order to record an image for posterity. Unlike their modern digital counterparts, which are filled with all kinds of gadgetry, cameras were once nothing more than empty boxes. They were designed to hold a piece of film inside, away from the light and a lens, which would permit just the right amount of light to hit the film when the photographer chose to do so. That simple process is a far cry from the guts of the simplest digital camera.
The net results, however, are the same: a record of an image. Yet in some ways, they are totally different. A film camera gives you something real you can hold in your hands. Digital images, on the other hand, need never be printed. As long as you have a computer, TV or your digital camera, you can see your image. If the power fails, however, those images are invisible. With film, as long as there is sun, you can see your picture.
It’s very odd: a simple device that made something tangible is now a complex machine that creates something intangible. Faith can be like that too. We can keep it simple. Believe in God, follow Jesus, let the Holy Spirit move you. Or we can overcomplicate it: throw in rituals and demands, require special behaviour and language, demand specific clothes and buildings. When we keep it simple it works. Read God’s word, love your neighbour, do good, share your faith and wealth with others. That kind of faith is tangible. We can grab it and hold it and feel it make a difference.
Complex, head-oriented faith with complicated rules and demanding behaviour steps away from God and drifts into nothing more than ritual and emptiness. While it might be impressive, it is also meaningless. Faith, at its best and purest, is simple. Our lives are complex enough already. Let’s keep things between God and ourselves simple, too. Why make life any harder than it should be?
In many ways my friends prized possession is a throwback to the earliest days of photography. Search the web for pictures of photographers practicing their art around the turn of the 20th century: the cameras they used are a far cry from the modern devices used today, but look virtually identical to the device my friend recently purchased.
Modern cameras rely on computers and specialized electronic devices to capture an image. The first cameras, however, used chemically treated paper, or film, in order to record an image for posterity. Unlike their modern digital counterparts, which are filled with all kinds of gadgetry, cameras were once nothing more than empty boxes. They were designed to hold a piece of film inside, away from the light and a lens, which would permit just the right amount of light to hit the film when the photographer chose to do so. That simple process is a far cry from the guts of the simplest digital camera.
The net results, however, are the same: a record of an image. Yet in some ways, they are totally different. A film camera gives you something real you can hold in your hands. Digital images, on the other hand, need never be printed. As long as you have a computer, TV or your digital camera, you can see your image. If the power fails, however, those images are invisible. With film, as long as there is sun, you can see your picture.
It’s very odd: a simple device that made something tangible is now a complex machine that creates something intangible. Faith can be like that too. We can keep it simple. Believe in God, follow Jesus, let the Holy Spirit move you. Or we can overcomplicate it: throw in rituals and demands, require special behaviour and language, demand specific clothes and buildings. When we keep it simple it works. Read God’s word, love your neighbour, do good, share your faith and wealth with others. That kind of faith is tangible. We can grab it and hold it and feel it make a difference.
Complex, head-oriented faith with complicated rules and demanding behaviour steps away from God and drifts into nothing more than ritual and emptiness. While it might be impressive, it is also meaningless. Faith, at its best and purest, is simple. Our lives are complex enough already. Let’s keep things between God and ourselves simple, too. Why make life any harder than it should be?
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