Postures We Use: Colin Kaepernick, National Solidarity, and the Wounded in Worship

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Last Sunday I sat through the entire church service.  This might not sound that strange to you, but I attend an Anglican communion where constant change of posture is commonplace as part of our liturgical worship.  Yet at thirty-three weeks pregnant with our third child in three years, I wasn’t feeling quite up to full participation in the usual ways of standing, kneeling, and constantly changing positions throughout the service.

As I sat still while others moved, I marveled at the freedom of bodily expression in worship we enjoy as Anglicans, especially in the confines of a predetermined liturgy.  Sit or kneel.  Stand or sit.  Come forward or stay where you are.  Raise your arms in song or stand still.  Partake in communion or cross your arms for a blessing.

So many ways to be united in worship; so many ways to fellowship together.

Colin Kaepernick started a national controversy when he choose to sit for the playing of the national anthem at NFL games.  Some identify with his reasoning and have joined him in various acts of solidarity.  Others are appalled by his choice and his perceived message of disrespect and openly choose make their displeasure known.  I’d rather we first take a step back and question why we expect others to stand united in the first place, and what it means when people choose to act differently during public acts of solidarity.

Our bodies are vessels of human expression. If you have ever had the pleasure of traveling overseas, working within a community of non-English speakers, or interacting with children too young to speak, you likely know just how effective body language and expression can become as a tool for communication.  We can have entire conversations without speaking a single word.  Waves, smiles, frowns, pointing, jumping, dancing, hugging, tugging, kneeling – all these actions and so many more communicate something to the world around us.  Our bodies are vessels of human expression.

Posture can wound. Unfortunately, because our bodies are used as a form of speech, they can be used to hurt others.  Yes, through physical violence toward one anther but also – more simply – in our choice of gestures or posture.  Crossing our arms, literally turning our backs, walking away, giving the finger, these are all ways that people use their movements to communicate something negative, offensive, or obscene.

Likewise, we can use different postures to wound ourselves.  This often occurs through uses of our body which violate our conscience, undermine God’s intended good for us, or belittle our existence and self-worth. Consider the story of Shadrach, Meshach and Abednego and how they understood that to kneel before a false idol would both wound the honor of God and wound their own belief and testimony in Him.  Unlike that silly adage goes, words most certainly can hurt and so too can the ways we use our bodies to speak to the world around us.  Posture can wound.

Posture can heal.  The good news is that while we can use our posture to hurt others, we can also choose to use our bodies as vessels to help heal ourselves and those around us. Be it through physical touch, open arms, or a stirring sign of humility, surrender, or love, the ways we choose to move about this earth can touch hearts for the better.  Like many forms of healing, these physical expressions of positive communication don’t always come easy or without conflict.  As a reflection of divine love, sometimes the act that brings healing can first bring a healthy or necessary form of pain.

Perhaps there is no better expression of this form of healing love than the symbol of Christ’s posture on the cross.  Arms nailed open to the world, His pain (and the pain of our sin) became a crucial precursor to His victory.  Each time a follower of Christ finds themselves in prayer and worship reaching out their arms like those upon the cross – be they standing, sitting, or lying down prostrate – they both embody that pain and that victory at the same time.  Be it to address a need for a personal victory over sin or in contrition for relational or societal hurts, postures such as this touch hearts through both experience and witness.  Posture can heal.

Posture is powerful. Since posture can both wound and heal, it is a vital part of how we live together in a society.  Many of our postures we take for granted.  Yet even when we are not intentional about how we use our bodies, we still speak volumes in each moment of the day.  When we pass other people on the street or in an elevator do we look them in the eye and smile, or do we keep our heads down and eyes averted?  It is remarkable how just tiny adjustments in our our body language can impact those around us, or even our own hearts, for better or worse.

For example, when we choose to kneel in prayer it is an act of submission.  To do so communicates to our hearts that we are choosing to come before God with surrender and reverential fear, and it communicates to those around us that we are choosing to make ourselves lesser before the One who is greater, often uniting the body of Christ in a common act of humility.

The physical act of kneeling not only prepares us for our times of prayer or confession, but it can also be a crucial part of the prayer, or even a prayer in and of itself.  Moreover, when done in public, kneeling in prayer acts as a sign to remind the community of our place before God and to point us all back to the heart of His glory and grace.  Posture is powerful.

Posture demands authenticity.  Because of the very power entailed in how we use our bodies, it is important to use our bodies truthfully.  We can lie with our bodies just like we can lie with our tongues.  This means that when I fake a smile, a hug, or a salute, I lie.  It might be a small lie, we might classify many of these actions as white lies, but it doesn’t change the fact that I am still expressing an untruth.

There are certainly situations when we will choose to use our bodies in a way that doesn’t perfectly match how we feel, and this isn’t always the same thing as a lie.  In fact, some of the most powerful uses of our bodies come through disciplined acts, like the decision to kneel in prayer even when we feel rebellious, angry, confused, or full of doubt.  By intentionally and willfully choosing to be disciplined to a specific kind of service, act of worship, or to a reverential commitment, regardless of our shifting emotions, we are still true to that higher goal with our bodies even when our hearts are wary or rebellious. Marriage, I am learning, is full of such moments.

However, there are many more times when we do not intentionally honor a prior choice or commitment.  Rather, we just move in ways that are contrary to our authentic selves.  Perhaps it is out of routine, perhaps it is out of disappointment, or fear, or vanity, or manipulative motives, but when we tell lies with our bodies we wound.  It reminds me of an old Casting Crowns song:

Are we happy plastic people
Under shiny plastic steeples
With walls around our weakness
And smiles to hide our pain
But if the invitation’s open
To every heart that has been broken
Maybe then we close the curtain
On our stained glass masquerade

When we hide the truth of our hearts, when we use our bodies just to play a role or to convey a false image, we cut off the potential for healing to occur.  By doing untrue things with our body we choose to wound ourselves and our wider community with our lies.  Being “happy plastic people”, for example, can help to maintain a certain image or comfort level for the fellowship of a church as we all follow along and act exactly as everyone else does.  Sit together.  Stand together.  Shake hands together.  Smile on cue together.

There is an element of these programed movements that even appears on the surface to build solidarity and unity, but for the sake of what exactly? For the sake of a lie.  When there is no room for our communal traditions to be broken, for one or many individuals to question, to doubt, to cry out, or to act differently when in public, there is no room for healing to occur.  And where healing cannot occur, wounds will fester and painful divisions will take hold.  Posture demands authenticity.

Where just one is hurting, we all hurt with them.  Church, where we go to commune with Christ and His children, is meant to be a safe place to express our innermost thoughts, feelings, and beliefs.  It is meant to be a place where we can show great devotion and love, but also great doubt and sorrow.

I can’t tell you how many times I have sat in church and questioned.  Questioned God’s love, questioned my purpose and worth, questioned the nature of the church and the evil of mankind.  And because I have questioned, I have sometimes sat still while others stood.

I have wept while others sang out with joyful hope.  I have lain prostrate while others danced.  There have been entire seasons – weeks, months at a time – where I chose to not receive communion as an intentionally outward sign of my inner struggles.  When I do these actions, all crucial aspects of authenticity in posture, I do so to be vulnerable before God and within my community.  I do so with the heart of healing, even in the midst of my anguish.

When I or others display our weaknesses, doubts, or brokenness with our bodies it is not meant to invalidate the more joyful or reverential behavior of the rest of the community.  Rather, it is about finding ways to still be a part of our community even while we struggle.  It is about still trying to know God, even when we honestly question his very existence or goodness.

Crucially, my times of sitting out or using my body in ways that differ from others in worship aren’t – first and foremost – about the truth of my grievances.  They are about the truth of my heart.  God is good, all the time.  But more than once in my life I have not seen or felt His goodness.  When you wrestle with that question it can be over-powering.  Anger, fear, resentment, sorrow, and endless streams of questions pour forth.  How we choose to reveal our internal struggles with our bodies or our words won’t change the truth of who God is.  But the more authentic we are in our posture, the more likely we are – in time – to encounter His healing touch and come to know his genuine goodness.

If we hide from our grief and our doubt, choosing instead to go through the motions and not acknowledge our true thoughts and feelings, we risk never finding the answers we need most.  Moreover, we limit our opportunities to build stronger and more authentic relationships and communities.  Lament, while often deeply personal, can also be powerfully communal.

When I am honest about my heart, most visibly through my posture, it offers the chance for others to come along side me to help.  Perhaps they will grieve or question along with me.  Perhaps they will respectfully challenge me.  Perhaps they will encourage me.  Perhaps they will pray for and with me. But, when done with love and grace, a healthy community always welcomes our differences in action for they understand that these postures offer a starting place for all of us to heal and grow stronger.  Where just one is hurting, we all hurt with them.

So if I am free to question God through how I use my body, why can’t Colin Kapernick – or anyone else for that matter – question our country through their choice of posture during a national moment of solidarity?  Surely the act of honoring God is far higher than honoring a country, no matter how much we may love our home.  If God does not demand a robotic allegiance to him through our posture then we should not demand it for the sake of our nation.

This is not to say it is wrong to choose en-mass to show respect and love for country and all that means to us through standing during songs or placing hands over our hearts during a pledge.  Just because one, or even millions, reveal their authentic doubt about the problems we face as a nation doesn’t mean that all people in that moment must stop do the same, or even feel the same toward the country that they love.

Neither does it mean that those who choose not to stand do so because they hate their country.  I may doubt God at times but I still love Him in my weakness.  To search for God, to be truthful regarding our questions about God, is to love Him.  Why should it be considered any different in how we choose to love our country?

Moreover, it matters how we reveal our true selves through the public display of our bodies.  I said that posture wounds, but do actions like Kaepernick’s actually wound our country, or more specifically our veterans?  I am not sure there is anything inherently offensive, aggressive, or hateful about choosing to sit while others stand.  Especially, perhaps, when it was originally done without fanfare or grandstanding, but instead quietly as a matter of personal conscience.    If anything is rightly wounded by his actions it is our sense of solidarity.

But where our societal unity is built on lies, it does not actually exist.  So when, say, a large group of Americans question if their country is a safe or equal place for them to dwell, yet they are told to hide those emotions in public so they won’t risk offending the majority, our country is made weak.  We are made weak because we are not truthful.  It doesn’t matter at the outset if you think their grievances are real or justified, what matters is that they do not believe that they belong.  What matters is that they are hurting.

If what we desire is to be stronger or more unified as a nation, we can achieve those ends exactly through authentic moments like Kaepernick’s choice to sit.  In so doing he chose to signify with his body the true state of our lack of solidarity as a nation.

And even if his posture was unquestionably offensive and meant to wound, like standing up with his middle finger extended toward the flag, how then should we respond?  Well, if someone did a similarly offensive act in the middle of a church service directed at the cross how would you respond? Would you glare with judgmental distaste and disapproval?  Would you demand said offender be removed from the sanctuary? For surely they, with their ingratitude and dishonor, should not be welcome in the house of the Lord.  Would you respond in kind and curse the offender with your body or your mouth?

Or, might you choose to turn your cheek, bless those who curse, and approach the offender to ask what is troubling them that day?  Would you offer to pray for them with a genuine concern for the state of their heart, soul, and mind?  Would you extend to them a place to be heard, a place to be truthful, and a place to encounter God? Would you choose to show them respect and love?

Perhaps one of the most beautiful parts of this whole Colin Kaepernick debacle is the role played by Nate Boyer, a former Green Beret and NFL player.  Not only did he respectfully open a dialogue with Kaepernick when this controversy first captured the attention of the county, but he actually met with him in person.  He spoke with him for over an hour and listened to the grievances and doubts of Colin Kaepernick’s heart.  And then, as part of their honest dialogue, he helped find an even better posture for Kaepernick (and now many others) to use when they wish to express the truth of their doubts and hurts in moments designed to engender national unity.

To take a knee has long been a sign of respect.  And if I understand football culture correctly, it is also commonly used as a sign of solidarity among players.  Is it the same as how the majority of Americans have chosen to respect the flag of this country over the years?  No, and it is not supposed to be.  Yet it is possible that in choosing an alternate sign of respect in our posture we can still love our country even while we question it.  Questioning and doubt, be it in our thoughts, or our words, or our posture, can still be a form of love.

To encourage Kaepernick to find this middle ground, a way to still express a form of respect through his body while remaining true to his internal struggles and doubts, is a beautiful picture of community.  Even more powerful is how Boyer then joined Kaepernick at the next game and stood by him during the national anthem, standing with hand over his heart, while his new friend took a knee.  Two different postures – two different experiences, emotions, and views – both united together.

Would that more of us will choose to be like Nate Boyer.  You don’t have to surrender your loves, your beliefs, or your traditions to take the time to listen and stand beside those who hurt, question, or doubt.  You don’t have to accept all that someone asserts in order to respect and love them.  You don’t have to believe someone is right, or intuitively understand their perspective, to care that they are struggling or in pain.

Our bodies are vessels of human expression.  Because that is true, our postures can wound, and our postures can heal.  Let us choose, even when it’s hard to understand, to use our own postures and bodies to heal.  When we do so we can change individual hearts and even whole communities, for posture is powerful.

Never forget that truth is required for healing, even when that truth is messy, painful, hard, or looks different than what others expect.  In order to be used for acts of healing, both personal and communal, posture demands authenticity.  So when we encounter neighbors, be they in football stadiums or in our churches, who convey the unexpected with their posture, instead of judging them, let us listen to them.  Let us reach out and stand beside them, even in their true pain, doubt, or confusion.  Let us leave room for the notion that we can find unity with one another, even as we express that unity in different ways and with different emotions.

All people struggle with loves, devotions, and beliefs throughout the course of their life.  Some of us choose to wear those internal battles more openly on our bodies than others.  When we encounter a person whose posture suggests that they are experiencing some form of pain, anger, doubt, or grief, let us bless and not curse.  Let us have the courage to not be offended for our own sake, but rather be concerned for sake of someone else’s heart. For, in the spirit of 1 Corinthians 12:26, where just one is hurting, we all hurt with them.

 

 

 

The Power of Self-Centered Thinking (Part 2): On Justification, Insecurity, and God’s Will

9789381841723-ukLike many avid PBS viewers, my husband and I were in for quite the experience this week when we sat down to watch their annual coverage of “A Capitol Fourth”, the live broadcast of D.C.’s Independence Day concert and fireworks.   Since we were splashing around town with our toddlers in downpours earlier that day we knew it would be a miracle if the fireworks proceeded as planned.  Imagine our surprise when not only did the fireworks begin, but we were treated to occasionally marvelous aerial coverage of the event featuring crisp monuments, clear skies, and picture perfect displays of pyrotechnic celebration.

Instead of watching a live dud of a display as one would would expect at the conclusion of a rainy day, or seeing some sort of notice announcing that this was a previously recorded display due to inclement weather, we were given an odd amalgamation of both.

While no disclaimer was made during the broadcast, we apparently weren’t the only puzzled residents looking for clarification.  PBS tweeted an explanation of the broadcast the next morning, confirming that they used a mixture of old and new footage in order to improve our viewing experience.

On one hand I totally get it.  The eerie scenes that were obviously live looked more like coverage of the bombing of Baghdad than the happy celebratory pictures we all hope for on the 4th.  However, the cognitive dissonance they created with their creative presentation of truth was ultimately a disorienting and disappointing lie.

Like many lies in our own lives, it wasn’t all fake.  Only key parts of the finale were made up of recycled footage while the bulk of the presentation came live as advertised.  Such combinations of truths and lies are often presented in a positive light, as PBS tried to do the morning after.  Isn’t it for the best when we cover over our darkness and disappointments with something more beautiful or appealing?

The difficulty comes when we sprinkle falsehoods in with truth as an attempt to recreate our reality.  Once combined, it becomes challenging to separate one from the other.  We start to loose touch with what is true and what is false.

Such is the kind of experience I had in reading through The Power of Positive Thinking.  As Peale quotes a psychologist friend in his opening chapter, “Attitudes are more important than facts” (22).  When this perspective becomes your maxim, “reality” is based less on truth and more on how you choose to perceive your circumstances.

PBS invited viewers to perceive the reality of this year’s national fireworks as one filled with sparkling excitement and clear skies.  Peale invites us to perceive our reality as a one where we can attain anything our heart desires so long as we come to believe in ourself.

Chapter 1: Believe in Yourself

We are justified by Christ, believe in Him.  I suppose it comes as no surprise that a book described in big bold letters on the back cover by the line, “Faith in yourself makes good things happen to you” would open with a chapter entitled Believe in yourself.  As Peale explains, “A sense of inferiority and inadequacy interferes with the attainment of your hopes, but self-confidence leads to self-realization and successful achievement” (13).

In fact, he argues that “Without a humble but reasonable confidence in your own powers you cannot be successful or happy” (13).  To help us meet this goal of earthly success, Peale outlines 10 steps comprised mostly of various forms of thought conditioning designed to keep us positive.

Since he was a pastor, Peale’s message is often riddled with mentions of the importance of a belief in God and in the help found in scripture for daily life.  This is the truth he offers.  In fact, some of his prescriptions are fairly good ideas for all believers, like reading the Bible regularly, praying fervently, memorizing verses, and seeking out counseling when facing struggles from your past.  If we take Donald Trump as his word, he loves reading the Bible.  That is no surprise for a follower of Peale’s teachings.

However, the fissures and falsehoods appear as we examine how Peale advocates using scripture and a belief in God for our own gain and self-fulfillment.  Take, for instance, his promise that “You can develop creative faith in yourself – faith that is justified” (13).  To be clear, when Peale says justified here he is referencing a faith is justified by a realistic appreciation of yourself.  This is not a theological truth, it is a pep talk.

Of course, to the self-centered soul this is also a core foundational belief.  I am right, I am worthy, I will do all things well.  So the mantra goes.  Once self justified, you can do no wrong.  Add God to that picture and you’ve found the makings of a monstrous deformation of what God creates us to be.

It should go without saying that this teaching of self justification is the antithesis of Christianity.  Ironically, one of Peale’s favorite scriptures to quote comes from a key passage dealing with justification.  For Step 5 of his assured ways to build self confidence he suggests: “Ten times a day repeat these dynamic words, ‘If God is for us, who can be against us?’ (Romans 8:31) (Stop reading and repeat them NOW slowly and confidently)” (25).

I realize that Romans 8:31 is a favorite verse for many believers, and for good reason.  It is, as Peale notes, encouraging and even empowering.  But we need to ask the question: WHY is God for us? Who is God in the first place? In Peale’s world, to the fundamentally self-centered, he’s whatever we need him to be to support our inner power and outward success.

Contrast that to what the Bible says in full.  Leading up to the beautiful claim of God’s support and love for His children, we find one of the most crucial passages of scripture on the nature of salvation, justification, and the elect in Romans 8:

For those whom he foreknew he also predestined to be conformed to the image of his Son, in order that he might be the firstborn among many brothers. 30 And those whom he predestined he also called, and those whom he called he also justified, and those whom he justified he also glorified. 31 What then shall we say to these things? If God is for us, who can be against us? 32 He who did not spare his own Son but gave him up for us all, how will he not also with him graciously give us all things? 33 Who shall bring any charge against God’s elect? It is God who justifies. 34 Who is to condemn? Christ Jesus is the one who died—more than that, who was raised—who is at the right hand of God, who indeed is interceding for us. 35 Who shall separate us from the love of Christ? Shall tribulation, or distress, or persecution, or famine, or nakedness, or danger, or sword? 36 As it is written,

“For your sake we are being killed all the day long;    

we are regarded as sheep to be slaughtered.”

37 No, in all these things we are more than conquerors through him who loved us.38 For I am sure that neither death nor life, nor angels nor rulers, nor things present nor things to come, nor powers, 39 nor height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord.

First, it is clear that God justifies us.  God is the actor.  Through Him, through the sacrifice of Christ on the cross, we are justified.  Not by who we are.  Not by what we do.  We are justified by Christ.

Second, because we are foreknown, predestined, called, justified, and glorified through the great love and grace of God, we now know that “if God is for us, who can be against us.”  The first part of verse 31 is important as it references the powerful statements of truth that proceed it.  We can’t start with the premise that God is for us, rather it is merely the conclusion drawn from all “these things” about who God is and what He has done for us.

True teaching reveals that you don’t learn about God and his nature by looking primarily inside yourself, and you definitely don’t partake in the promises of God by purely inward thinking.  It is by looking up and out to God that we learn more clearly about who we are and what we can do.

Third, God is on our side so that we shall not be separated from His love.  We are more than conquerers, but not in the sense that we are actually guaranteed protection from hardship, failure, or even tragic death.  We are more than conquerers because of the promises regarding the ever present love of God, our salvation, and eternal life.

In fact, because of how we are foreknown, predestined, called, justified, and glorified we are told that we may be killed for the glory of God.  Not exactly a winning premise for “self-realization and successful achievement”, especially if your idea of achievement is based primarily in the events and currency of this world.

On a certain level it is a good idea to heal our wounds and believe in what we can achieve with God’s help.  But this belief is only worthwhile when it is grounded in a firm notion of who God is, of the great things He has done, and of who He created us to become.  We are justified by Christ, believe in Him.

God strengthens us to do His will.  In Step 7 Peale tell us to repeat “I can do all things through Christ which strengtheneth me” 10 times a day. Then he commands, “Repeat these words NOW. That magic sentiment is the most powerful antidote on earth to inferiority feelings” (25).   Aside from his appeals for repetition starting to feel like a youth camp gone all wrong, his use of this verse throughout the book as a hallmark feature of building self-confidence is troubling.

Like we saw with Romans 8, the entirety of a passage matters in clarifying what followers of Christ are actually promised in this life.  Can we really do anything we set our minds to, without limits?  Can we use God to achieve something contrary to His teachings? What happens if we fail?  Was God not on our side that time?  Did we not have a sufficiently large enough faith?  Consider these preceding verses in Philippians 4:

8 Finally, brothers, whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is just, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is commendable, if there is any excellence, if there is anything worthy of praise, think about these things. What you have learned and received and heard and seen in me—practice these things, and the God of peace will be with you.

10 I rejoiced in the Lord greatly that now at length you have revived your concern for me. You were indeed concerned for me, but you had no opportunity. 11 Not that I am speaking of being in need, for I have learned in whatever situation I am to be content. 12 I know how to be brought low, and I know how to abound. In any and every circumstance, I have learned the secret of facing plenty and hunger, abundance and need. 13 I can do all things through him who strengthens me. 14 Yet it was kind of you to share my trouble.

God strengthens us so that we can put into practice that which is true, honorable, just, pure, lovely, commendable, excellent, and worthy of praise, no matter the circumstances we find ourselves in.  We are not kept from storms, but we are strengthened to weather them.

Also, we can do these things because of who God is.  God is great.  God is good.  God is love.   God is Lord.  Therefore we can do amazingly powerful things for Him.  Note, he doesn’t strengthen us so that we might be great.  As the Eucharistic liturgy exhorts, “Through Him, with Him, in Him, in the unity of the Holy Spirit, all glory and honor is Yours, almighty Father, forever and ever.”

It can be as much a struggle to excel in these things that bear righteousness in times of plenty and success as in times of famine and failure.  Yet God gives us the strength to follow Him, and in turn to bring Him honor, glory, and praise.  God strengthens us to do His will.

Our insecurities should encourage compassion, not contempt.  Peale identifies the root of our individual problems as our own inferiority complex, or “deep and profound self-doubt” (17).  Note that our struggles, fears, and problems do not come from any particular acknowledgment either of sin or satan.

A cure for inferiority is to “fill your mind with to overflowing with faith” and to “Develop a tremendous faith in God and that will give you a humble yet soundly realistic faith in yourself” (17).  Ok, so that doesn’t sound bad, right?

Caution friends, this is a trap.  As much as it might be helpful and healing to develop a “humble yet soundly realistic” view of ourselves, especially one that begins with a faith in God, it is severely damaging to make faith in ourselves and our capabilities a chief goal in life.  Why?  Because it makes our faith in God fundamentally about us and our well-being, not about God and how He calls us to serve one another.  This is what it looks like to build your house upon the sand.

Peale’s own derision toward those who have yet to find self-confidence comes to the surface in ugly ways.  He notes, “It is appalling to realize the number of pathetic people who are hampered and made miserable by the malady popularly called the inferiority complex” (13).  One can almost see Trump’s now infamous remark “Sad!” after that comment.

Peale’s message rings hollow for his sights are set so low.  Consider this advice given to a middle child who underperformed in school in contrast to his high achieving older brother, “Just because somebody gets an A in college doesn’t make him the greatest man in the United States, because maybe his A’s will stop when he gets his diploma, and the fellow who got C’s in school will go on to get the real A’s in life” (17).

First, the ‘real A’s’ he is talking about aren’t about character, the pursuit of righteousness, or eternal life.  He is depicting a story like that of the biography of Donald Trump.  You might not be the top of the class, but you can still be more successful and more wealthy than your older brother when you enter the real business world.  Take heart!  Your success is yet to come! You can still be the greatest, the best, and the brightest.  Just believe in yourself.  Yuck.

Second, note how he turns the predicament of one person’s weakness into a story of pitting one brother against the other.  It’s not enough to suggest that those who get average grades can still be successful later on in life, he also has to point out that the older brother might start tasting failure after school ends.  The confidence of one is built upon the potential failure of another. Such is the rotten fruit that comes from attempts to justify ourselves.

Moreover, consider this observation from Step 4: ”Do not be awestruck by other people and try to copy them.  Nobody can be you as efficiently as YOU can” (25).  Let Trump be Trump? Anyone? Anyone?

“Remember also that most people, despite their confident appearance and demeanor, are often as scared as you are and as doubtful of themselves” (25).  Well then.  Guessing those confident people aren’t really true positive thinkers, they are just fakers waiting to be revealed.

The dummies.  The losers.  Like you.  Like me. For here is a central problem of the theology presented by Norman Vincent Peale: mere positive thinking and attentive effort at building self-confidence isn’t actually all that fulfilling.  It isn’t really the answer to all of your problems or the healing balm to your deepest wounds.  Not only will you find the need to justify yourself through your superiority to others, but you will still be fearful inside that someone might find out that you are actually faking your way through life.

Stop trying to justify yourself, for we are all sinners who will endlessly come short.  Belief in yourself, when placed at the center of your life, is tremendously hollow and disappointing.  Belief in yourself, which is rarely humble or truthful when exercised apart from an active relationship with Christ, can lead to great evil.  We are justified by Christ, believe in Him.

Our belief in God and His love for us is not primarily designed with earthly success in mind.  God may gift that to us, but we will all have our crosses to bear, thorns in our flesh, and disappointments in life.  God’s help is offered so that we may love Him more fully.  His promise is that once adopted as co-heirs with Christ we will never be separated from His unconditional love and saving grace.  God strengthens us to do His will.

As we seek to grow and heal we will discover the places in our hearts that are wounded and sinful.  Recognizing these scars and faults in ourselves ought to lead us to a place of empathy where we can enter into the pain, fears, and failures of others.  We are meant to build up, not tear down.  Our insecurities should encourage compassion, not contempt.

 

If you missed my opening, check out Part I on the backstory of blogging through this book and my summary thoughts on Peale’s Preface.  I never set out to take this review as a chapter by chapter guide, but I was so struck by the ideas listed in the first chapter I wanted to spend extra time on some of what he writes there.  As we go on in the coming week or so, and these assertions are repeated time and time again, I will address groups of chapters together and cover new or different areas for further thought.  

 I am using the 1992 edition of The Power of Positive Thinking printed by Fawcet Crest/Ballantine Books.  All citations reference this copy.

 

 

 

Borders We Need: Brexit, Boundaries, and Love

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My son recently started saying “me” and “I” with great frequency.  He shouts “Help me” when he falls down, “I want” when he desires a specific activity, or  points to something he’s playing with or eating saying “me, me,” as in mine.  I love it.  He is learning how to develop and express his needs, wants, and preferences.  He is finding himself, he is learning about where I end and he begins, and it is a beautiful thing to behold.

Recent studies on childhood development suggest that children aren’t cognitively ready to understand the concept of sharing until they are at least three or four.  That doesn’t mean they can’t act kindly toward other children at younger ages, it just means they don’t understand what it means to share themselves and their belongings. To the child soul these enforced episodes of “sharing” are confusing invasions on their fragile and developing personhood.  Yet most of us parents follow our children around, managing their social interactions and begging them to share anyway.  Typically, these futile interactions with toddlers just end in tears for all.

Children can’t share until they first learn to possess.  They can’t fully give until they first understand what it means to receive, and then to own.  Before they can grow into their social skills, they must first grow into an understanding of their individuality.  Learning to say “me” is crucial for valuing “you.”  A key part of developing as people is understanding where we end and others begin.

It is in finding out what it means to be me and not my mother, my father, my siblings, or other family members and friends, that we equip ourselves with the ability to become healthy individuals and learn how to interact with the world.  Relationships, even in their most foundational and early states, need borders.

For those who still believe in the need for defined boundaries – personal and national – in our increasingly borderless world, who recognize that sometimes “no” is said with deep love, this one is for you.

We need borders in order to know and love ourselves.  Self-autonomy is a foundational component of healthy living.  In order to love ourselves we must rule ourselves.  In order to rule ourselves, and protect ourselves from abuse, we must define ourselves.  We need to know what is ours and what is not.  We need to own all that is unique and personal about our body, soul, and mind. As we grow into this knowing, we grow into an appreciation for who we are and who we were created to be, as well as an acceptance of who and what we are not.

We cannot love that which we cannot define or differentiate.  If I don’t know where my body ends and yours begins, how can I properly take care of myself without trying to involve you in the process? If I don’t know what my opinions are in contrast to your opinions, how can I think for myself?  If I cannot express or choose my own likes or wants but rather let you choose them for me, how can I become autonomous?  If I can’t distinguish my rights and responsibilities from yours, how can I adequately protect myself from being used or from seeking to use and abuse others?

Boundaries are a foundational component of personhood, just as borders are an existential necessity of statehood.  In contemplating the current debate regarding the electoral success of Brexit, the British campaign to leave the EU, I was struck by these similarities.

C.S. Lewis writes in powerful terms about the proper love for country and the many ways this type of love can be distorted in Chapter 2 of The Four Loves.  He begins by describing a love of home, a Need-love or natural love, which can develop for the place where you were born or for the many places where you choose to live over the course of your life.  It is a love of the familiar and a love for the unique ways that your home conjours up that special feeling of comfort and belonging.  The foods, the customs, the peculiar ways life is lived, and how it is governed, all of these features uniquely shape the lives of those who dwell therein.

To define these facets of our home(s) and to cherish them is to love them for their own sake. He notes:

Of course patriotism of this kind is not in the least aggressive. It asks only to be let alone. It becomes militant only to protect what it loves.

If foreigners were to invade and rule our home country and try to impose their customs on our way of life, Lewis continues, we would rightly call for a defense.   Likewise, it is not evil to defend yourself against those who would seek to control you – as an autonomous adult – in how to speak, dress, eat, think, and feel.  To merely love your home, your country, for all of the unique qualities and charming familiarities, to be willing to defend your home when threatened because of that love, is not evil.

Of course, love of country can be used for evil, just as love of self can turn demonic and cause innumerable pain.  But to purely love that which is distinct and familiar, to love that which differentiates our homes or ourselves from others, is natural and necessary.

If you cannot define aspects of a country that make it unique, if you cannot say where that country ends and another begins, then how can you love it?  What are you loving, protecting, or identifying with if not specific attributes, perspectives, or customs found within a distinct border?  People need to know where they begin and others end.  They need to appreciate those features that are uniquely theirs, and so, too, do countries.  We need borders in order to know and love ourselves.

We need to define ourselves in order to love others. A significant part of being able to extend beyond ourselves in love for another person is to first know who and what we are.  Without that knowledge we easily become codependent or domineering in our relationships.  After I understand what it means to be “me,” as my son is so crucially discovering at the age of two,  I can understand and appreciate what it means for you to be you.  This is the foundation of empathy.

Lewis aptly observes how this principle works with love for country:

How can I love my home without coming to realise that other men, no less rightly, love theirs? Once you have realised that the Frenchmen like café complet just as we like bacon and eggs–why, good luck to them and let them have it. The last thing we want is to make everywhere else just like our own home. It would not be home unless it were different.

Properly balanced loves – both for who we are and for who or what we identify with – help us appreciate how others are different.  The common bond between all people is not that we share the same ideas or foods or preferences, but that we all possess the ability to have our own ideas, like our own foods, and live out our own preferences.  We share in our ability to love the particular, the specific, the defined, and the uniquely ours.

The problem comes when we want everyone else to think and act just as we do.  Or when we believe that all people should live in the same way and share our same customs, priorities, and values.  Our contemporary society is perilously edging closer to creating a world where borders, be they personal or communal, are no longer recognized or respected.  It is not enough to be left alone to live as we choose in our own homes, or in our own countries, for this is considered an offense or an affront to “humanity.”  But more on that later.

Because we are losing an understanding of borders we are losing an appreciation for differences – ironic in a world that supposedly loves “diversity.”  We cannot understand, appreciate, or defend the differences of other people if we lose the language and freedom that allows us to understand, appreciate, and define ourselves as distinct entities.

There is no need to be threatened by the fact that others choose or value something different than us.  Rather, through the experience of defining our own loves we can come to understand how someone else might appreciate foreign things or come to differing conclusions.  We need to define ourselves in order to love others.

Superiority is self-hatred, not self-love.  True evils result from the debasement of our loves.  One such evil particularly prone to surface in our abuses of how we love our ourselves and our countries is that of a superiority to those who are different.  It is a distortion of our proper loves to see ourselves as greater than others.

Keep in mind the admonition in 1 Corinthians that all members of the body are to be valued and cherished no matter the roles they provide.  That is the image of love we are to follow.  When such love is malformed, replaced by human rankings and castes, and taken to the extremes, it can lead to racism, improper dominion, and dehumanization.

Lewis addresses this type of superiority as “not a sentiment but a belief.” When love of country goes wrong it is no longer is capable of loving the other, and therefore ceases to properly love, or truthfully understand, itself.  He recounts:

I once ventured to say to an old clergyman who was voicing this sort of patriotism, “But, sir, aren’t we told that every people thinks its own men the bravest and its own women the fairest in the world?” He replied with total gravity–he could not have been graver if he had been saying the Creed at the altar–“Yes, but in England it’s true.” To be sure, this conviction had not made my friend (God rest his soul) a villain; only an extremely lovable old ass. It can however produce asses that kick and bite. On the lunatic fringe it may shade off into that popular Racialism which Christianity and science equally forbid.

Lewis also notes how this type of superiority is tied to our understanding of history.  It is all well and good to derive a certain appreciation for the fables and strengths of our unique pasts. Yet it is downright unloving to believe that any country, just like any person, is lacking the presence of ugly betrayals, persecutions, and failures as facts in their own history.  The mere presence of failure or darkness is no reason to stop loving our countries or our persons.  But acknowledgment of our past mistakes act as a cautionary restriction to temper our appreciation for ourselves and help us view other people or nations with compassion.

As regards Brexit, so far as a person in the UK loves their country for its unique otherness, they have done nothing wrong or evil to assert that autonomy.  Many are suggesting they wish to define and control the borders and governance of their own nation.  Ownership of our personal lives, property, or country – and a desire to protect what we own if trespassed in some way – is not wrong.  It is a natural part of life.

The potential evil is found in those forces who wish for the British to leave the EU because they believe themselves somehow inherently superior to other nations, or to people who come to their country from other parts of the world.  To leave lacking an appreciation for those who wish to remain, to leave lacking respect for those who live differently, is where the danger lies.

No doubt that within the British electorate there are those who sought to define their nation’s boundaries on the premise of hatred and superiority.  But there are also those who merely wished to ensure the right for all British people, regardless of ethnicity or personal history, to choose how to rule and define themselves going into the future.

A question for the British citizenry as they work towards meting out the consequences of the vote to Leave is this: just how many of their own possess hatred for others vs healthy love for country?  As I expect they shall discover, not all people who love their county and wish to possess, rule, and protect it are racist xenophobic bigots.

Knowing yourself, and standing up for the right to control that self is not wrong.  Misunderstanding yourself and your history, believing that you can justly control and lord over others beyond your borders, or to hurt and belittle those who are different within, is the true problem.  Where this evil exists, it ought to be noted and condemned.  You cannot love your country if you hate all other countries, just as you cannot love yourself if you hate all other people.  Superiority is self-hatred, not self-love.

Redefining borders, when lost or forgotten, is painful but necessary.  It is not uncommon in the course of our relationships to realize that we need to realign how we interact with others.  Typically this need arises for our own protection.  Sometimes we need to say no because we too often say yes.  Sometimes we need to say no because what is asked of us invades our personhood or our rightly ordered places of autonomy.  Often these “no’s” come after realizing that somewhere along the way we failed to sufficiently understand, define, and advocate for our own limits.

We need to correct relationships that overstep proper borders in order to preserve our own sense of self.  Such redefinitions can be difficult and often are not without some type of relational cost.  Yet the assertion of our boundaries, and the ability to properly rule ourselves, is typically required for our ability to survive and thrive into the future.  Redefinitions of borders are necessary in order to continue loving ourselves, and thereby necessary for enlarging our ability to love others.

In the context of love of country, Brexit provides an example of how a nation might need to reassert their borders, and their control thereof, to ensure survival as a distinct state.  Again, where that redefinition of borders is motivated by a hatred of others it is wrong.  But where it is founded in a healthy love of self it is understandable and legitimate.

One of the great blessings in choosing ownership and love of self is the ability to control how we use and manage our borders.  Merely asserting autonomy is not a decision to shut-out all people or to advocate isolation from the world.  In fact, rightly ordered personal autonomy can help us extend more grace and love to others.

We can love even as we seek to protect ourselves from those who would misuse or abuse us and our borders.  Just because people who transgress our boundaries or who disrespect our natural rights to self-governance are put at a new distance, does not that mean we have to close ourselves off to all relationships.

Those who respect our attempts to redefine our borders as we grow into our autonomy over the years are our dearest friends and allies.  Those who find offense at our choice to live, think, feel, believe, and govern differently are probably not of the sort we should hold nearest and dearest, or allow unlimited access to our lives or countries, in the first place.  The choice to protect ourselves from invasions, even of a bureaucratic nature, is natural and reasonable.

The British people now have a collective opportunity and responsibility to rise to the challenge of redefinition of borders.  This task is not just for those who voted Leave, but also for those who voted Remain.  There is room for a multitude of ways to walk out the process of leaving the EU behind and reasserting the independence of the United Kingdom (or the individual statehood of England, Wales, Scotland, and Northern Ireland).

These choices are much like those presented to the character played by Julia Roberts in the film Runaway Bride.  Chronically co-dependant in her relationships, she needed an opportunity to step back and choose for herself something as small as the way she liked to eat eggs, for she had always ordered whatever her string of fiancee’s liked as her own.  In the end she decided she didn’t actually like eggs, not in any form.  This is exactly the kind of process we all go through when we need to step back, individually or collectively, and redefine ourselves and our boundaries.

The task when undergoing efforts to reclaim our borders is to stay grounded in a healthy love for identity of self and to see this self-love as a means to respect and understand others.  This task does not preclude the hardships that come during seasons where we must define and assert our borders.  There will always be prices paid and sacrifices made when reasserting ourselves as other and unique.  But the costs are well worth the price of staying whole and distinct, be it in our personhood or our chosen statehood.  Redefining borders, when lost or forgotten, is painful but necessary.

Without borders we lose our identity and thereby our purpose.  In spite of all these truths, there is a prevailing trend in our society to suggest that borders themselves are the cause of conflict.  Confident and unique identity, be it personal or national, is perceived as a threat to harmony and peace.  Because our loves are often distorted and abused in practice, all loves for the particular are held in suspicion.  It is thought better to leave boundaries aside all together, or to not stand up for them when threatened, for that is surely the best path to peace, harmony, and relationships.

It is argued that we must all come to believe, act, govern, and live the same way, for this is the inevitable and desirable end of mankind on earth.  Those who resist progress toward an enlightened multicultural cosmopolitan borderless society are bigoted, backwards, or even considered aggressive for merely thinking or choosing differently than their neighbors.

Perhaps the precedent for this type of thinking began in our contemporary society with traditionalists forcibly trying to keep a status quo of the past.  But now aggression with no respect for borders belongs to the intolerant tolerance found within our progressive globalism.

Lewis deals with this concept as well, noting that without borders countries and people are left with a “false transcendence,” one where the only recourse left for mankind is in “presenting every international conflict in a purely ethical light”:

If people will spend neither sweat nor blood for “their country” they must be made to feel that they are spending them for justice, or civilisation, or humanity. This is a step down, not up. Patriotic sentiment did not of course need to disregard ethics. Good men needed to be convinced that their country’s cause was just; but it was still their country’s cause, not the cause of justice as such. The difference seems to me important. I may without self-righteousness or hypocrisy think it just to defend my house by force against a burglar; but if I start pretending that I blacked his eye purely on moral grounds–wholly indifferent to the fact that the house in question was mine–I become insufferable…If our country’s cause is the cause of God, wars must be wars of annihilation. A false transcendence is given to things which are very much of this world.

If we cannot love and define our country as unique and separate, we risk putting our actions out of order.  Wars are no longer just about protecting boundaries and homes, they are about defending universals.  Relationships cease to be about respecting and interacting with individuals, they are about the idea of the abstract category each person represents to us and all that we wish to derive from those roles (Family, Spouse, Friend, etc.).

This is the type of oppressive thinking which leads us into perpetual warfare and conflict. There will always be an “enemy” somewhere not living as we think they ought (i.e. not like us) or not upholding the values we deem to be best.  Here we find no room for compromise, negotiation, or a retreat within our own borders, for borders are no longer respected.  The only victory recognized by the borderless is one of complete subjugation where all differences deemed unacceptable or threatening within a person or a country are wiped clean.

Whether it is relational warfare or the actual use of military might, wars and conquests based on these attempts to subdue in the name of eternals are the epitome of death and destruction.  They leave us unhinged, disconnected from purpose, detached from unique loves, and free to attack at will.  The justification for our ruler’s choices, or for the way we treat others, gets confused with the will and role of God.

It is not our place to tell another autonomous individual how they must feel, think, believe, or act (although we may certainly enforce a consequence when those actions break laws or disrespect established boundaries).  We cannot force a certain type of lifestyle, set of preferences, or acts of personhood on another at will, even when it is perceived to be for their own benefit.

Likewise, the power afforded to a state, or a union of states, is not meant to force others to be made in their own image.  Such is not the purpose of any government or form of governance.  Unless, of course, it be the divine governance of God, and even He allows room for choice in pursuit of his purposes and the reflection of his image.  Choice to exist apart from Him is a critical component of the highest love, the love He offers to His creation.

Natural love, as Lewis defines love of country, is separate from our higher callings to affection, eros, and the most beautiful of all, charity.  Although Need-love is not the same sentiment as that which we encounter in most of our personal relationships or in our relationship with God, commitments to things like our home and our country act as models to help train or prepare us for accepting and growing into the higher spiritual loves of this life.

We shouldn’t worship or idolize our countries, but we can love them.  As part of that properly ordered love we need to define what they are and what they are not.  We need borders in order to know and love ourselves.

While we continually grow into our true selves, we can change how we use and manage our borders.  Self-awareness and appreciation creates a foundation for relationship and a respect for those whose countries or attributes differ from our own.  We need to define ourselves in order to love others.

In loving others we must protect ourselves from any deceitful notion that we are secretly better than those who live, think, or act differently than us.  Superiority is self-hatred, not self-love.

When we discover that we are in a relationship that has confused the boundary of what is mine and what is yours then it is time to reassert who we are.  Sometimes we must say no, and sometimes we must say goodbye.  Redefining borders, when lost or forgotten, is painful but necessary.

If we try to live without boundaries we lose guidance on how to respect and interact with others.  Lacking self-definition, we risk turning into the very tyrants we fear from abuses of patriotic and self-love.  Without borders we loose our identity and thereby our purpose.

There are so many ways we can choose to manage our edges and our internals, for good or ill.  But in order to give, in order to relate, in order to love, we must be able to define, own, and protect.  These are the borders we need.

 

For further reading on the importance of borders as a foundation for love, I suggest Boundaries by Drs. Henry Cloud and John Townsend.

Free to Hurt: Guns, Refugees, and Choice

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Sometimes my 2 year old son hits his 1 year old sister.  Sometimes she retaliates (or anticipates) and hits him back.

In raising toddlers only a year apart there are moments when I seriously wish they just did what you asked the first time and never again repeated undesirable actions.  Hitting is particularly painful to deal with as a parent because who wants to see their child hurt another, let alone their own sibling? So in those moments I think that if I could only wave a magic wand and say, “no more hitting!” our problems would be solved. The lesson would be learned for good and we’d never have to revisit the consequences, pain, or difficulty of addressing their negative behavior.  Who wouldn’t want that, right?

Sometimes my 2 year old son jumps up from his playtime and gives his sister a big hug.  Sometimes she responds (or initiates) by giving him a big open mouth kiss.

In these moments of beautiful love I am reminded of the power of choice.  When my toddlers choose to show one another affection in such spontaneous, unprompted ways I realize how these moments are special precisely because they had a choice.  Yes, sometimes they hit and that is painful and ugly and hard.  But sometimes they hug.  They hug because they actively chose love over envy and anger.  The magic wand solution is no solution at all, for it takes away their power of choice and thereby the meaning of their love.

This love, even their child love, has a fullness of meaning because each time they express their love they choose it from among a whole range of emotions and responses.  If we enforced rules that trained them they could only ever hug, if hugs were mandatory or mere rituals, if hugs were magically enforced, then their actions wouldn’t express the same thing.  When my son could hit, but instead chooses hugs, that is love.

For those of you unsure of how to speak out on the social controversies of the moment, who want to strike a balance between naivety and fear, between the horror of violence without justice and the high price of ensuring safety, this one is for you.

Choice does not negate justice.  There seems to be confusion in our social and political discussions about the nature of justice.  For, it is argued, if someone can choose to do an act of evil then there is no justice in this world.  The problem is that this understanding of justice fully misunderstands the inherent connection between choice and evil. It is only because we have freedom, and we can choose to use our freedoms for good or ill, that justice even has a purpose to serve.  If we are only given one option then we create a society devoid of justice.  Choice necessitates justice.

In the case of guns and gun control I often hear people argue that the problem with our violent society is that guns are available to the general public in the first place.  If there were no guns, they claim, there would be no more tragic and needless deaths.  If only we took away the choice of how to use guns, and where and how and when to buy them, a great evil in our country would be wiped away.

I am hardly an advocate for the efficacy or need for guns in all of our homes or personal lives. For the record, it is highly unlikely I would ever seek out membership to the NRA or own a gun myself.  Still, I wonder if our knee jerk attempts to address the particular expressions of evil in which guns are involved, typically after they occur, fundamentally misunderstands the nature of the problem before us.

Our problem as a society is not that we have access to guns.  Our problem is that we have access to evil.  Our problem is that we don’t value ourselves or others with the innate dignity that was gifted to us by our Creator.  We disrespect and devalue human life every day.  We do this with our words, with our actions, and through the media we consume.  And while we can most definitely do something to address the ways our culture discards and objectifies human life, and while we can opt to limit or take away legal access to guns, we will never be able to limit the potential in every heart to access and act upon evil.

This is why we have courts on earth, and this is why God sits on a judgment seat in heaven.  We all have a choice on how to use our lives.  Some people use their choices for good, but oh so many of us use our choices for ill.  When someone chooses evil over good it is painful and heartbreaking to watch or partake in.  Often, seeing others choose great evil is hard to understand.  But that is why justice exists.

Will the justice of the law or the justice of God satisfy or heal the pain and sorrow caused by evil in this world? No.  That is the role of Jesus: the sacrifice, forgiveness, and atonement offered though His life, death, and resurrection.  Yet the justice afforded to us both on earth and in heaven grants us a pathway to address the true problem, the problem of evil, and how some people use their freedoms to choose to do evil things.

We overstep the purpose of justice when we believe that we can somehow prevent or erradicate evil by limiting our access to choice and taking away our freedoms. That is not attainable nor is it wise.  To do so ignores fundamental truths about human nature.

Gun control or no gun control, evil will exist, people will hurt and kill others, and life will continue to be filled with the cost of sin.  I’m not saying there isn’t place to debate public policy changes in how we handle guns in our country.  But I am saying that no matter  where we stand on this issue, we ought to respect that gun ownership, like so many other rights and responsibilities, comes with a choice to use it for evil or to use it for good.

Seems to me that when a mother uses a gun to shoot and ward off home intruders we collectively cheer.  Or when a private citizen protects an innocent life using their concealed carry gun in public we label them a hero.   In our efforts to limit the potential for evil, we may also prevent or limit good.  Justice is personified holding a scale for a reason.

We needn’t fear our choices, for with the choice to do evil comes the choice to do good.  Because we can choose both good or bad, we can punish evil.  Choice is the very bedrock of the justice that we all look for when faced with tragic displays of evil in this world.  Choice does not negate justice.

Lack of choice does not ensure safety. When we take away the ability for ourselves or others to choose, we take away the potential for good.  Liberty, the founding principle of our nation, demands the opportunity for certain abuses and dangers to exist alongside the opportunity for goodness or righteousness.

Take away a choice in the name of safety and you are often left only with coercion, not goodness.  Coercive societies are joyless societies.  Coercive societies lack imagination, creativity, and individuality.  We may find that the cost of any “guaranteed” safety we create when we overly limit our choices and options is far too high.

Think about the current debate regarding refugees and immigrants from Muslim nations.  In the name of safety many argue that we need to cut off access to our country for millions  of people around the world.  Is there perhaps a chance than some small percentage – likely less than 1 percent – of those seeking entrance to this country intend to use this privilege for harm? Yes.  But think of all that would be sacrificed in the name of protecting us against this hypothetical threat.

Think of all the good that could be done in helping hundreds of thousands of families in need of a home.  Of showing the world the courage and openness that America was once known for through our welcoming arms and our willingness to accept the huddled masses.  Think of the certain good that would come from embodying the powerful imagery of a city on a hill, shining light for those from far and wide in need of refuge and a hope for a new life.

Think of how many of those seeking entrance here might, for the first time in their lives, be gifted the opportunity to live in a land where freedom of religion is real and the gospel of Jesus Christ is proclaimed in public.  In fact, not only might it be the first time they will have the opportunity to hear about the truth of Jesus, but it could offer them the first opportunity to consider following Him without fear of reprisal or violence at the hands of their own government.

Is it at times unsettling to know that potential terrorists might be dwelling in this country and seeking access to weapons? Yes.  But it is also unsettling to realize that in the name of protecting ourselves from this potential threat we would empower the government to decide, without recourse to justice through due process, who is and is not safe, who is and is not a threat, who does and does not have rights. Is it not also unsettling that we would ban a whole group of people from entry to our nation because of the faith or the place of their birth, regardless of the content of their character? For me, most certainly yes.

We can extend these powers to the government, we can limit ourselves and our society until our border is in lockdown and every building has a metal detector.  But no matter the laws passed or the precedent set we will never eradicate the evil that inspires terrorism or that leads mankind to kill.

However, we can choose to do good in the face of evil.  We can choose openness to protecting our choices and expanding our opportunities to heal and bless.  We can choose to hug and not hit, even if we were hit first.  That is how evil is vanquished in this world.

Evil wins each time we cower, we fear, and we stop living.  Evil wins when, in the name of safety, we close our arms and no longer extend them for the hurting and the broken.  Evil wins when we stop ministering to others or hide the words of the gospel for fear of rejection or misunderstanding.  Evil wins when we elect to take away our freedoms, not when we choose to defend or expand them.

Until the day of Christ’s return there will always be evil on this earth.  That is not a surprise, it is a promise.  Take away choice and not only does evil win, but it will find new paths for expression.  Increase the potential for light, increase the opportunities for good, and choose courage instead of fear.  That is how evil will be overcome, and oh how it shall be overcome one day!

We can be certain that so long as we are here on earth there will be sin and evil and pain.  Yet we are also certain that in the end goodness and beauty will win, that God shall render the ultimate justice, and that only His love shall remain.  Good shall conquer evil, that is a promise too.  Because we have this promise we have nothing to fear.

More choice means more paths for goodness to shine and justice to be rendered, not less.  We are safer when we more free, not the other way around.  Lack of choice does not ensure safety.

We are free to hurt so that we are free to love.  We should be neither surprised by nor scared of the existence of evil in this world.  When confronted by the existence of evil we are called to choose love.  We can promote free choice as a society to act for evil or for good because we have recourse to justice, both human and divine.  Choice does not negate justice.

Take away our choices or our options on how to live and we merely limit the potential for goodness to shine in this very dark world.  Lack of choice does not ensure safety.  If we severely limit ourselves as a nation, or as individuals, we will devalue any good we try to offer or create.  The power of love is found in the power of choice.  Forced love is no love at all.  We are free to hurt so that we are free to love.

 

In Memoriam: Christina Grimmie, My Friend

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Christina with my Grandmother at my wedding

My wedding reception had just finished and I was trying to get back to my room to change shoes. After hobbling up a flight of stairs with throbbing feet and a cumbersome dress I realized that I did not have a card key to access the lodge hallway where the bridal party rooms were located.  As I was debating if I could make it back downstairs on my own, and honestly starting to feel quite lonely, a graceful, quiet soul appeared on the landing where I was waiting.  I explained to Christina my predicament, she helped me get in, and then we walked together to our neighboring rooms.

I will never forget this moment.

She told me how beautiful I was. I told her how beautiful she sang.  I thanked her for coming to make my wedding so special.  She thanked me for the opportunity to be a part of our story.  And then I told her something that proved to be more true than ever in the following years. I told her that while we may not be related by blood, her family was our family and I couldn’t imagine celebrating that day without them.  Their family, as she reminded me in that moment, liked to tell everyone that my family are the nicest people they know. But in that moment I knew the truth of who the nicest among us truly was.  We hugged, and we went our own ways.

Yesterday, Christina Grimmie went from ushering others to worship at the throne of the Lord through her beautiful life to standing before Him in heaven at the age of 22.

For those who are left behind, for those experiencing a tremendous grief, for those trying to make sense of the senseless, for those wishing they could just do something, this one is for you.

This is the Story of the Son of God

Hanging on a cross for me*

She was loving.  Christina’s love was genuine.  She loved her family, her pets, and her fans.  She loved music.  In an age full of manipulation and image crafting, Christina was true to herself and how God made her.  She was determined to be faithful to who she was and who God was calling her to be.  She ignored voices telling her to be or do something she wasn’t because she knew her fans and she had a vision for how to love them and minister to them through pop music. She loved others and she loved herself for she knew that God loves us all.

The causes she supported with her celebrity weren’t publicity stunts, they were accurate reflections of her heart.  When she said she loved her fans, she really and truly meant it with her whole being.  She received her success with deep humility, and used it to tirelessly serve those whom she inspired.  Christina gave to her family, just as they gave to her.  She sacrificed for others, and she sacrificed for God.  To all of us who had the privilege of knowing her personally, we know the depth of the love she offered and modeled.  Christina Grimmie was loving.

But it ends with a Bride and Groom

Standing By a Glassy Sea

She was faithful.  Christina’s faith was real.  It truly permeated her life and influenced her decisions, even at a young age.  Through her knowledge of scripture to her prayer life, she privately practiced the faith she came so publicly to claim.  She faced plenty of challenges, disappointment, failures and deep pain in her young life, and yet she always turned to God for healing and guidance.  She might not have been recording “Christian” music or serving on a worship team, but no one who knew her could ever charge that she sought to use her gifts for anything other than the Glory of God.  Christina Grimmie was faithful.

Oh, Death Where is Your Sting 

Because I’ll Be there Singing

She had hope. I remember when she and her friend Sarah were very young and first spent a visit at our home writing songs that they asked to perform for us before leaving.  These mini concerts became a regular tradition for our get togethers with the Grimmie’s, long before Christina uploaded her first video to share with the world.  I can earnestly say that watching God’s hand unfold in her life story from early childhood until now has inspired me time and again in remarkable ways.  God gave her a vision and a dream early on in her life and she believed in it with abandon.

She believed in it so much that she kept working toward it, tirelessly, endlessly, passionately, even when she had no clear path for success.  She had hope that God meant what he was speaking over her heart and into her life.  She had hope that no matter the obstacles, He could bring it to pass and that He would not forget her and her dreams.  She had hope that no matter the number of closed doors she encountered along the way, there was still a future for her.  For those of us who saw that hope in a young girl from South Jersey singing from our balconies and in our living rooms, who was self-taught and self-driven, we saw hope in action.  Christina Grimmie had hope.

Holy, Holy, Holy Is the Lord Almighty

She transformed others for good.  As Christina was performing on The Voice, I heard God speak over her an anointing while we were watching her cover of Drake’s song, “Hold on. We’re going home.”  What I heard that night was a reminder that this, too, was a manifestation of the gospel.  What she had accomplished was an act of taking something that seems to be worldly and hollow at its core and transforming it into something truly beautiful and meaningful.  So many of her covers infused this love and beauty into whatever she chose to sing.

The secret to her professional success in this world, beyond her talent, unique personality, and infectious joy, came in how she used her artistry to touch our hearts and remind us that there really is a Creator of this universe who is Love.  God used Christina’s life, as I believe He will continue to use her earthly legacy, every time she breathed His life, the life and freedom of Christ, into the music she performed.

As her family, her friends, her fans, we were all touched by her time walking along side us and we can honestly say that we are better off having known her.  She helped to transform our lives through her kindness, her testimony, and the work of her hands.  Christina Grimmie transformed others for good.

Who Was and Is and Is to Come

Her story is not over.  For those of you, like myself and my family, who have followed Christina’s journey from childhood on up, there is a particular pain to see her name so publicly renowned today.  We all prayed and hoped and believed a day would come when she would reach this level of recognition for her talents.  Never, never, never, could we have ever imagined that day would come because of how she died.  It is almost too much, too cruel.

It does not end like this.  It does not end in tragedy, just as it did not start in tragedy.  The headlines that now bring her story to the rest of the world are neither the beginning nor the end.  Much like the Savior she loved, the tragic and heedless nature of her death may call attention to her life, but it does not define who she was, is, and will be.

We will miss her here.  We will miss her so much.  We will miss her and all the things we will miss out sharing with her in this earthly life that ended so soon.  I recall on my wedding weekend talking to Christina and her mom at different times about how she was so inspired by the story of how my husband and I met through the divine hand of God.  I remember how she said our story gave her hope for what kind of man God had in store for her, in His timing, and the importance of waiting on God to fulfill these desires of your heart.

In so many ways, it hurts knowing that she never met that man on earth and that we will never have the joy of celebrating her wedding together, as she so powerfully helped me celebrate mine.  And yet – and yet – I know that Christina met her bridegroom last night while she stood all in white.

Her story has just begun.  Her life, her eternal life, began anew last night.  If we thought that she sang beautifully in this earth I can only imagine just how glorious she sounds today.  I know that her life and her heart is fulfilled.  I know that she is loved in ways we can only dream of.  I know that she is whole.

Each time we think of her life and the way that God used it, we continue her story here as well.  When we listen to her music, or watch her videos, or tell others about her, we continue the act of transformation she began.  When we think on how much she was and did in her 22 years and we choose to be and do even a fraction of that with our own, her story lives on.  When we choose to love, to be faithful, to hope, and to use our gifts to transform this world for good, we keep her life’s purpose alive and we point to the life that she now lives.  Christina Grimmie’s story is not over.

This is the Story of a Bride in White 

Singing on Her Wedding Day

Of the God who was and is to stand before a Bride who Sings

Holy, Holy, Holy, Is the Lord God Almighty

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* The words in Italics are the lyrics to the song “Holy (Wedding Day)” by City Harmonic.  This was one of the songs Christina sang at my wedding.  It is the song that she sang as I walked down the aisle on May 11th, 2013.  Never before has this song meant so much to me.  Our glassy sea was upon the shores of Lake Tahoe.  Hers are the glorious seas of Heaven.

Pressing On: How to Cope with the Difficulties of Stay-At-Home Parenting

408268-1_1920x1080_534843971868It is 8 AM and I am feeding my children a breakfast of honey graham bunnies, which they fetched for themselves, while I sit on our couch sipping coffee and crying uncontrollably.  Sometimes the tears come in droplets, sometimes in torrents, but regardless of the speed they arrive I just can’t get them to stop.  Welcome to the beginning of a very hard day in the life of a stay-at-home-mom. Welcome to my yesterday.

I am choosing to stay home with my children while they are little.  No disrespect toward those who choose to work. I suppose this post could be read in such a way to make those who chose differently feel better about their own choice.  But that isn’t the point.  The point is that even though I chose this for myself and my family, and even though I have no intention to go out and find a full-time job, I still find some days to be incredibly difficult to handle.  To those stay-at-home parents out there who feel the same way, this is for you.

I love my kids.  It’s absurd that I feel the need to reiterate that statement over and over.  But when you are struggling to like your job, and your job is as the primary caretaker for your kids, it is only inevitable to feel a certain level of guilt.  So let’s get this one clear.  Struggling to cope with the hardships of watching little children full-time, 24/7, sometimes on your own with them for 12 hours or more, does not make you a bad parent.  It doesn’t mean you don’t love them enough or that you are somehow the wrong woman to be their mother (or man to be their father).

You aren’t failing them when you are truthful about why parenting as your full-time profession is sometimes profoundly difficult.  In fact, it is only in acknowledging our struggles that we can best serve our little ones and love them even more. So the fact that I am not always excited to get out of bed in the morning to attend to my children’s needs does not mean that I don’t love them.  Nor does the fact that I let myself feel these difficulties, cry in front of them when it gets really hard, and explain to them that “Mommy’s get sad sometimes too” after I calm down.  I love my kids.

I get lonely.  I think this is the crux of so many of the other difficulties faced by stay-at-home parents.  While other people go off to work, see co-workers, and meet friends for lunch, I spend most of my days in our house with my kids.  When I do go out, even if I see others, I spend most of that time focused on my children, their antics and needs, and not the people sitting across the table from me.  Of course, I can try to do more to expand my community and I know that for some moms this isn’t a huge problem.  But not everyone has kids in the same place where you grew up or has an established community near people they love, trust, and who have time to see you during the day.

Building this kind of community takes energy, flexibility, and time, qualities often in short supply when raising little kids.  We have moved around so much in recent years it is disorienting.  And while those choices were the best ones for our family, it does make this loneliness harder to deal with and community more challenging to create.  For it is hard enough to make inroads with a new community when you are single or newly married, but add in the complex needs of little kids and this task can feel next to impossible!

Oh, but what about all those programs for moms? What a wonderful way to connect and make friends! Yes, ok.  I can personally testify that those morning bible studies or MOPS type experiences have been both life-saving and very discouraging in the realm of relationships.  Don’t get me wrong, I think ANYTHING that can help get you and your children out of the house to socialize with others is a great idea if you can make travel arrangements and fit it into your schedule.  I am genuinely grateful for all the people who I have met so far along the way.  Even if I only spoke with you for three minutes a year ago, you are significant in my life and I still thank God for you.  I’m serious.

However, using these venues to find heart friends, to find the kind of people you have more in common with than just child rearing or a free morning, to find people who you can call up to join you on days filled with buckets of tears and honey graham breakfasts, are much harder to come by.  The task of growing acquaintances into friends can be tedious and dissatisfying when you have a pressing need for deep relationships right now.  I know they come for many.  I am trusting they will come one day soon for me.  But it hasn’t happened yet, so I am often very lonely.

Some might say, “Oh, but you have your kids to keep you company!” Yes, yes I do.  And I love my kids.  There we go again.  But my kids don’t speak fluent English.  My kids have the needs, and thoughts, and desires of little children.  As is appropriate.  And while the whole point of staying home is so that I can build deeper relationships with them during these formative years, trying to commune with a 1 year old as my primary social interaction is not emotionally satisfying.  Nor should it be.

At the end of the day they are still my children and I am still the parent.  I shouldn’t look to them to fill my emotional needs.  That would be both wrong and expensive.  After factoring in the cost of therapy once they get older, I’d probably have to go back to work just to pay for our mental healthcare expenses. Plus, thanks to their desire to join me everywhere I go, including the bathroom, I am hardly ever technically alone.  While some parents might be cool with this lack of personal space, I actually find it makes the whole loneliness problem pretty darn difficult to process and manage.  I mean, if I want to have a private emotional breakdown I have to schedule it for nap time.  So yes, I love my kids, but I can spend all day with them and still be lonely.

I get bored.  I know, I know, childhood is an endless adventure! When you see life through their eyes it brings new meaning and interest to your own! Oh look! It’s a leaf and it is FASCINATING!  When watching little kids it is true that we relearn how even the small parts of life can be fun and mysterious and interesting.  We can enjoy simpler things and really appreciate the value of endless silly giggles.  But other times in the day I desire mental challenges or stimulating conversation that relates to a different part of my being.  Blocks and cars and children’s books are awesome, but after a couple of hours I am genuinely ready to focus my brain on something else.

Maybe not all stay-at-home parents have this problem.  But as a highly analytical and philosophically oriented person, I like having intellectual goals and tasks of a nature that aren’t currently a part of my daily parenting schedule.  I like talking to people about abstract concepts like the nature of God’s love, and having practical debates on topics like the best way to address the challenges in the Middle East.  These interests are a vital part of my personality and they didn’t just disappear or get filed away in the inner recesses of my soul as soon as my first child was born.  So while I truly value learning to have awe, and not just irritation, for the tiny ants that occasionally invade our kitchen, I also desire to use and be my whole self throughout each day.  Otherwise, I get bored.

I feel unfulfilled.  Ok, yes, the work of raising children is a tremendously important task for both the lives of our kids and the future of our communities.  It is a gift to have this opportunity to be here for them with consistency and to see each milestone in person.  It is a miracle to have a hand at shaping the life of another in such an intimate and complete way.  But when lacking outlets for my passions, or even time to figure out just what my passions are, I feel almost like a shell of myself.  A hollow person moving from task to task without real connection or heart.  We give to our kids by being our whole unique selves as God created us, and that includes integrating all of our interests and skills into our daily routines.

Some might ask then, “Why don’t you just go get a job?!” Well, for starters, I don’t need a job title to be whole for myself or for them.  Although, let’s face it, somedays I certainly wonder if that would be an easy solution.  Especially for boosting my self-worth in a world that can merge identity with work and that tends to see full-time parenting as the absence of work. I think this misnomer is where we can get tripped up in thinking that there is some fundamental quality about staying at home with kids that is unsatisfying or joyless.  It might not be right for everyone, but for most of us there is plenty of satisfaction and joy in spending this season with our children.  It’s just also incredibly difficult to make space for our own interests and well-being while striving to meet their relentless needs.

Yet we can try to find time for ourselves, and not just at nap times.  Toddlers can play by themselves, they really can, and I think it is healthy for them to gain independence and to see us doing things other than just housework or play.  Of course, I always make space for them and their needs, which means I am interrupted an average of every three minutes.  But I think we can choose to orient parts of our day towards our other goals and interests outside of childrearing.  I am trying, slowly, to write and read more throughout the day.  I periodically put CNN on in the background.  I aspire to join a book club.  These are just some of the ways we can connect with our whole selves. Yet when lacking this personal time to use all of my God-given gifts, or when doubting myself and my purpose, I feel unfulfilled.

I feel overwhelmed.  Sometimes the demands of full-time parenting are really just too much to handle without a good cry.  At least for me anyway.  Toddlers are emotionally volatile little people, and since I have been either postpartum or pregnant for most of this parenting journey, I am emotionally volatile as well.  It really doesn’t take much beyond the daily diapers, spills, mealtime messes, and tantrums to trigger an occasional torrent of tears or frustration from either or both of us.

The tremendous weight of forming another’s life, and the practical situations that we face in this task, can be both perplexing and stretching. Some situations find me looking upwards and saying, “I am not equipped for this,” and yet I still have to make a call, on my lonesome, for how best to take care of my children and help them grow in that moment.  While I usually figure out some response with varying degrees of wisdom and grace, there are at least a few seconds – if not minutes – where I just want to hide or hand over my parenting duties to someone else.

Plus, I hate housework.  There, I said it.  Some of you, I know, love it.  It helps calm you down or feel in control, and that is awesome.  But I hate it and I’m bad at it.  And while I try to take responsibility for a lot household chores as the spouse who is at home, I am not choosing to stay home to be our family’s professional maid.  I am choosing to stay home to help our children develop in a safe, positive, and familiar environment.  Contrary to stereotypes or cultural expectations, these two roles of maid and mother are frequently mutually exclusive.

Our home routinely has piles of dirty everything and it’s not because I am a lazy lout all day.  Seriously, have you ever noticed that trying to accomplish household tasks with the “help” of toddlers can take about 500 times longer than normal? Not to mention that if this was all I did all day long I would probably need a prescription for Xanax.  I count myself blessed to live in the age of google so I can figure out just how to handle applesauce stains on the sofa  or throw-up on the carpet.  And by handle I mean mitigate the damage, not restore unto perfection.  If you ever sit on our couches, I’m sorry.  After my panic attacks subsided, I tried my best.

So yes, on some days I find myself lonely, bored, unfulfilled, and overwhelmed.  And then I cry.  Sometimes I cry a little, sometimes a lot, and sometimes for hours on end because I just can’t keep it in anymore.  But then my husband comes home to hold me and give me a break, I take some deep breaths, and I remember why all this is worth it in the end.  I remember that I am choosing this path and that I can find ways to cope with the hardships day by day.  I consider new ways to walk out my calling and take care of myself, even if that means a part-time job, a nanny share, or a half-time pre-school.

I remember that God knows my struggles and he knows my heart.  I remember that He is always with me and that I can always cast my burdens upon Him.  I remember that He hasn’t forgotten the entirety of who He created me to be.  I remember that for all things there is a season and while some parts of me may lie dormant right now (like the part that exercises and showers on a daily basis), those pieces of me will blossom again, perhaps sooner than I can imagine today.  I remember that He prunes us to help us grow, and I pray that the fullness of my gifts and passions will flourish again in His divine timing and as a part of His divine plan.  I remember that He does not judge us by the cleanliness of our sinks but by the cleanliness of our souls.  And I press on.

But whatever were gains to me I now consider loss for the sake of Christ. What is more, I consider everything a loss because of the surpassing worth of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord, for whose sake I have lost all things. I consider them garbage, that I may gain Christ and be found in him, not having a righteousness of my own that comes from the law, but that which is through faith in Christ—the righteousness that comes from God on the basis of faith. I want to know Christ—yes, to know the power of his resurrection and participation in his sufferings,becoming like him in his death, and so, somehow, attaining to the resurrectionfrom the dead.

Not that I have already obtained all this, or have already arrived at my goal, but I press on to take hold of that for which Christ Jesus took hold of me. Brothers and sisters, I do not consider myself yet to have taken hold of it. But one thing I do: Forgetting what is behind and straining toward what is ahead, I press on toward the goal to win the prize for which God has called me heavenward in Christ Jesus.  ~ Philippians 3:7-14

 

Note: Throughout this piece I use the term “full-time parent(ing)” to refer to the work of those parents who stay home to take care of their kids.  I recognize that ALL parents are full-time parents, regardless of where you are.  But the reality is that those who stay home are there do the work of parenting as their full-time profession.  No insult or superiority intended. I am just attempting to describe the daily tasks of parents who forgo a career in order to stay home with their children in a faithful and accurate way.