Author: Tyler Stetson

In recent months the word “hope” has appeared repeatedly to me in books, conversations, and chapel talks. I am thinking primarily about Dean Jordan’s chapel series on the topic and conversations with friends struggling with their faith. My reaction to these encounters with hope in the context of Christian faith has been one of frustration and confusion.

I refer to two definitions of hope. The first definition I discuss is hope as a conviction that life has some deeper meaning, as this seems closest to the idea of hope that most often comes up in relation to Christianity. The attitude appears to be that Christianity has a monopoly on meaning, manifesting itself in sayings like “Christ is our only source of hope” and “How could life have any meaning without Jesus?” This attitude is nonsensical. There are millions of atheists, agnostics, Buddhists, and Muslims who have managed to find meaning elsewhere, just as there are multitudes of totally hopeless Christians.

Also, why does life need to have some deeper meaning? Is it not enough to simply accept life for what it is? It takes an unhealthily inflated sense of self to believe that an individual needs to have some cosmic significance in order to be happy. This inflated sense of self and identity leads to a host of other issues, including a compulsive need for affirmation, an obsession with monitoring oneself, and an insatiable craving for recognition. I have often found that the only way in which the Christian faith does give meaning to anyone at all is in addressing these symptoms of self-absorption, yet even it rarely satisfies, as evidenced by Christians struggling with the same major psychological issues as non-Christians.

The second definition I will discuss is of hope as an expectation for positive things to come. In the temporal sense, Christianity certainly fails to provide this sort of hope. Christ promised persecution, division, and poverty to his followers. Of course, that’s a radical reading, but so is prosperity gospel teaching. It seems as though the consensus amongst mainstream believers is: “The Christian life is a better life, except for when it is not.” Same for prayers. “God answers prayers, except for when he doesn’t.” In other words, your life here on earth will be more or less the same with or without God. If it is better or worse, it will be based on your personal discipline and adherence to Biblical wisdom. Therefore, Christianity offers no more hope of earthly satisfaction than any other creed that imposes behavioral regulation. Buddhism offers about as much hope of this variety. Probably even more, since it extensively addresses the problem of suffering.

As for eternal hope of this sort, Christianity does not have a monopoly on paradise. Many world religions have promised a blissful afterlife to obedient adherents. Perhaps Christians do have an advantage over atheists, but atheists don’t care. That advantage only exists if heaven is real. Otherwise, Christians are merely delusional. If one values hope over sanity or rationality, I suggest he or she simply invent a contrived belief system that can provide more hope of every variety. Eternal hope is not as relevant as many pretend it to be.

The average Christian, at least in my experience, does not seem to live in an eternally-minded way. Take, for example, the many bright young students here at Houghton preparing for medical school when prolonging life means delaying heaven. Why study environmental science when the Earth will inevitably pass away? Why study the cosmos when souls are so much more important than stars? Should we not all be tirelessly devoting ourselves to making an eternal impact? Why even study extra-biblical material when that is the primary document in which the Master of Creation revealed himself?

As a final note, the purpose of this article is not to list objections to Christianity, though I would happily do that in an alternate forum. Rather, it is to argue that faith is not some sort of mental tool to give life significance. It is an actual set of beliefs about the nature of reality, which should result in one losing oneself rather than continuously seeking to build oneself up. And if you do find that Jesus is merely a tool in your mental or spiritual health toolbox, rather than a historical human being that called you to lose your life to find it, perhaps you should reconsider what you actually believe.

Tyler is a sophomore majoring in math.

What is happiness? At Houghton, there is constant pressure to make important decisions. What will my major be? What will I do this summer? Will I go to graduate school? In making these pivotal decisions, one must constantly discern what is truly important. While priorities during this short span of life are ever shifting, one thing that everyone wants is happiness. Unfortunately, the kind of happiness that is most desired, the kind that leads to deep peace and satisfaction, seems unbearably elusive.

Recently, I found a contrarian model of happiness in an unlikely place, a history book called Sapiens by Yuval Noah Harari. The focus of Sapiens is on how Homo sapiens became the dominant species on earth, but Harari hides brilliant philosophical insights throughout. He argues that from an evolutionary perspective, humans are not designed to be happy. We have a baseline of happiness that we will always revert to, no matter how much we indulge our desires or how successful we are. This makes sense from an evolutionary perspective. If we would have been satisfied after hunting and eating only once, we would have starved. Likewise, if we would have been satisfied after mating just once, we would not have survived as a species. In other words, we are wired to only experience temporary satisfaction.

Harari suggests that there are only two things that can ever increase our happiness: physical health and meaningful relationships. From this perspective, our happiness is based purely on neurochemical reactions. This is actually quite encouraging since we have the power to create a healthful environment to optimize our brain’s functioning as an organ, in essence adjusting our baseline. Unfortunately, college is a health disaster. Three buffets a day and limited activity are far from optimal. In addition, many students put immense amounts of pressure on themselves to perform at a high level, causing stress, sleeplessness, and overall physical breakdown Finally, we subject ourselves to high levels of auditory and visual stimuli in the form of excessive media consumption, but we don’t match this with equal physical stimulus, resulting in neuromuscular tension and anxiety. Yet we wonder why we are miserable amidst so much opportunity and accomplishment. It is because we see happiness as a product of success rather than as a product of health.

Meaningful relationships are the second component of happiness. By meaningful relationships, I do not mean friends and acquaintances. I certainly don’t mean the broad community here at Houghton. I mean life’s most precious relationships, including parents, children, spouses, fiancees, and extremely serious friends and romantic interests. Perhaps this is why so many students are unhappy. For the first time, their foundational relationships have been removed, only to be replaced by an onslaught of relationships that are incredibly shallow by comparison. These meaningful relationships are so important because as humans we crave recognition, but only recognition from those closest to us can satisfy this craving. This is why celebrities, who are “recognized” for their talents by millions, are often extremely unhappy. Shallow recognition is like junk food. It leaves people sick, not nourished. Another reason why these relationships are so essential is that they distract us from ourselves. I posit that much of our unhappiness stems from rampant self-absorption, and truly loving other people allows us to stop worrying about our own state.

So how should we react to this contrarian and simple model of happiness? I personally find it comforting. According to this model, high GPAs, job offers, and overall success cannot bring lasting happiness. The things we are told to strive for most are not contributing to our happiness, and furthermore  may be harming our chance at attaining it. Self-promotional academic and career goals that that are out of line with prioritizing God seem so vapid in comparison to a chance at true happiness brought by deep personal relationships and health.

Perhaps Harari is wrong. Maybe happiness isn’t that simple and there really is a goal out there that is so worthy that it could eternally satisfy. Personally, I find the evidence too compelling to ignore. I see too many miserable people slowly killing themselves with caffeine and alcohol and high fructose corn syrup. Likewise, I see them consume junk food of a different sort as they try to fill the pit of loneliness in their emotional stomachs with shallow relationships and cheap approval. For this reason, I am willing to take this gamble for happiness. As terrible as it sounds, I think I could endure a life of deep and loving relationships and healthy living.

Tyler is a sophomore majoring in math.