It's much easier to have an open mind if you have an empty mind. At Cambridge, I have learned that detail is a necessary component of any good conversation, and that plenty of time can be "wasted" by people who have a general understanding of the question but are unable to distinguish key differences between similar things.

But as Christians, no conversation is "wasted" if we enter the conversation with the good and growth of the other person in mind. Not all people share our opinions. And not all people's opinions are as developed as ours; people also ask a lot of bad questions. If we put our own learning, or the integrity of the idea above the person we're with, we have failed our responsibility to love all people. If we just spend time together and contribute nothing to each other, we have failed our responsibility to love all people.

Christians have a double responsibility and a high calling in our thinking and discussion. Not only are we to seek truth and wisdom, but we are to stand firm in love and humility, in gentleness and generosity. We should be eager to learn and founded on truth, always willing to build on that foundation, and always willing to lift a stone in the constructive life of each person God blesses us to meet.

The two key words in Cole's notes for this painting are "as if". By itself, the painting provides no means of hope. The airy castles of "Youth" and the blissful garden of "Childhood" are far behind. There is no angel here. The only light, choked by dense clouds, only succeeds in putting peril into relief. Thus, "as if" is not a statement about the foolishness of the man's prayer; it is a statement on the nature of his faith, which seeks God "as if" he exists, when even light has failed.

At the St. John's College Christian Union, we are going through prayers in the Bible over the summer. This week's prayer, from Habakkuk 3, presents a similar situation to Cole's painting. How do we relate to a God whose majesty "made the nations tremble", who according to Habakkuk, torments the earth with judgement-- a God of plague and pestilence, who brings anguish and distress in his pursuit of total justice? And what good is faith when our emotion and experience fail to transcend but instead become barren or dismal?

Answers to these questions are not sufficient. Habakkuk's response is inspiring precisely because it's so ridiculous:

It's an extreme statement of faith to attribute both suffering and sustenance to the same person. Habakkuk continues:

This isn't so much a prayer as it is an outburst of desperation, resolution, and desire; not unlike a mantra. It holds Habakkuk to a standard, but to acknowledge need is also to insist upon God. Here, in this dire moment, heaven and earth must meet and work together for anything good to survive.

Many people live within societal desolation like that which Habakkuk or the protagonist of "Manhood" were facing. But as Christians, we are all refugees. And wherever we are, we must hold fast to our faith. For if we do not stand firm in our faith, we will not stand at all.