Thursday, June 4, 2015
10 Lessons I Learned Through Betrayal
1. People (self included) are generally well-intentioned but weak and will choose the path of least resistance, even if their conscience twinges a bit.
2. Once authority is lost, whether based on fact or not, it is nigh to impossible to regain it.
3. Friendship comes in varying shapes and sizes and one needs to learn to accept what people can give, not demand what they can’t.
4. Loyalty does not consist of agreeing with me throughout a crisis, but in loving me faithfully throughout a crisis, which will show in your behaviour.
5. Your behaviour is what affects my life, not the words you speak. If your words are contradicted by your behaviour, I have no choice but to believe the behaviour.
6. Gossip travels much faster than fact and is sometimes impervious to correction.
7. Saying/doing nothing in a situation which requires words or actions can actually be more harmful than any words or actions you may have been afraid would be harmful.
8. Forgiveness is necessary not just because it is the right thing to do, but for my own sake; the burden of bitterness is too heavy to bear and will make me ill.
9. Those who saw you at your worst and still accepted you are worthy of your trust.
10. There is always a new beginning, even after you have lost everything your life had been built upon. But it takes courage to believe that and to take steps toward it. Cut yourself emotional slack, yes; but do take those baby steps.
Thursday, May 7, 2015
What is a Missionary?
When my children were in their early teens, they went on a couple of choir trips along with the youth group of the largest conservative church in the Austrian city in which we lived. One of the songs they learned was universally experienced by the kids as ghastly, but the choir director loved it. (Though a German-speaking church, it was fashionable at the time to sing many songs in English.) The tune is straight out of the 1950s, and the lyrics are as follows:
Be a missionary every day! (clap 4x)
Tell the world that Jesus is the way!
Be it in the town or country or a busy avenue
Africa or Asia, the task is up to YOU!
So, be a missionary every day! (clap 4x)
Tell the world that Jesus is the way!
The Lord is soon returning, there is no time to lose, so
Be a missionary, God’s own emissary
Be a missionary today!
I can’t even begin to tell you on how many levels I abhor this song. Quite apart from the infantile circus-like tune, the required clapping and cringe-worthy choreography, I object quite strongly to the inferred theology behind it, especially when inflicted upon children.
The inferences are that Hell is the default setting for anyone who doesn’t belong to their particular form of church group, and that it is therefore inherently required of each child (child, mind you) to “evangelize” by telling the world that "Jesus is the way" (whatever they might understand that to mean). Why? Because time is running out, Jesus is coming back soon and it’s all “up to YOU”!
*shudder* No pressure, then.
The song also offends me because of its loose handling of the term “missionary”, as though simply being a Christian and sharing our life, which includes our faith, with others (which I believe is the natural and normal Christian lifestyle) is equivalent to “missions”.
I feel a minor rant coming on.
***
I also have a beef with the term “mission trip”. I have no problem with calling something a short-term mission (aka STM), but having been a full-time career cross-cultural missionary for 30 years, my hackles rise when people call themselves missionaries because they once spent 10 days camping while helping build huts for an indigenous church facility in Oahaxa. Or helped out in disaster areas after the fact. Don’t get me wrong: such things are worthy causes and I applaud those who are willing to use their vacation time and invest in Kingdom work elsewhere. But humanitarian aid doesn’t make you a missionary.
(See the Wikipedia definition: "A short-term mission (STM) is the mobilization of a Christian for a short period of time ranging from days to a year; many short-term missions are called mission trips. The short-term missionary is a fairly recent innovation in the global missions movement"...)
What I have more of an issue with is when American Christians think “I'm a missionary too!” because perhaps once or twice a year they go on what are commonly referred to as “mission trips”, but which I prefer to call “ministry trips”. What happens on these trips is also fine and admirable and a good thing, but it is also not missions.
In this scenario, middle-class American (or other Western) Christians sign up with a large ministry to spend one or two weeks in another country, usually doing exactly what they would do at home if they were on a conference ministry team. Much of their time is spent in large gatherings of mostly indigenous believers (though often the music is taken from Hillsongs or the like and indistinguishable from that at home, save for the language). Ministry team members listen to the main speaker along with everyone else and at the end of the meeting are released to pray with conference attendees, just as they would on a ministry team at home. If they are lucky, they have a halfway competent translator to assist them, but this is not always the case.
Most people who have gone on these trips do report a real surge in their personal spiritual lives. They have taken some risks, faced the unfamiliar and pushed out the boat, as it were. They’ve tasted another culture, usually experienced a higher level of effectiveness in their prayers there, made friends with other team members and sometimes with nationals; certainly they benefit from the steep learning curve. However, their actual contact with the foreign culture remains at best just a taste. They have often paid more to go on this trip (not just the plane fares, hotels and meals, but the huge “overhead” many ministries charge on top of that) than many of the people they minister to earn in a year. They travel with other like-minded Americans, stay in Western-style hotels and eat at least two good meals a day. Yes, they work hard and yes, what they do is a good thing. But after a week or 10 days they fly home, exhausted but happy, and slide right back into their comfortable middle-class American lifestyle.
One may perhaps more accurately refer to this as “American Christian missions tourism”, but it is at best a cross-cultural ministry trip-- not missions.
What DO I consider missions, then?
The Oxford dictionary definition: Missionary: A person sent on a religious mission, especially one sent to promote Christianity in a foreign country.
Wikipedia: “A Christian missionary can be defined as "one who is to witness across cultures".[2] The Lausanne Congress of 1974 defined the term, related to Christian mission, as "to form a viable indigenous church-planting movement". Missionaries can be found in many countries around the world.
Jesus instructed the apostles to make disciples of all nations (Matthew 28:19–20, Mark 16:15–18). This verse is referred to by Christian missionaries as the Great Commission and inspires missionary work.”
Up until very recently, a "missionary" was understood as someone who left their native land to go and live in another country, in order to bring people from a non-churched background to a saving knowledge of Jesus Christ (whatever the strategy for that) and usually, to form an indigenous church out of those so reached. A missionary in this sense is not taking a break from their “normal life” to “do missions”-- missions IS their normal life. It is a full-time job. It involves great personal investment in learning a language, culture, customs and lifestyle sometimes very different from their own, and submitting to that culture in order to bring the living culture of the Kingdom, like yeast, into it.
Cross-cultural career missions means giving your life and energies to a culture that is not yours, with which you are unfamiliar, many aspects of which you may not agree with. It means raising your children bilingually and bi-culturally, knowing they will experience what is to you a foreign culture as their home culture. It involves constantly discipling a church full of (sometimes difficult) first-generation believers who have no mature Christian heritage or influence. It means identifying so much with your host culture that when someone in a Christian gathering calls out for prayer for various countries, it never occurs to you to stand in the group of your country of origin. It means changing almost everything about the way you live, usually to a far lower material standard than the one you left. It is a whole-hearted commitment to getting a spiritual job done under sometimes almost crushing physical, emotional and cultural circumstances.
I spent 12-15 years of my 30 years as a career missionary regularly going on ministry trips from my host country into many other nations. It was always an enriching experience, and often helped me in the permanent work in which I was involved. I’ve been on the all-frills and the no-frills versions of ministry trips. I’ve been a simple team member, I’ve formed, trained and led teams, I’ve organized trips, I’ve been the main conference speaker. I’ve stayed in the luxurious Hotel Gloria in Rio de Janeiro and with my friends in their 2-room house in eastern Ukraine (they gave up their only bed so I could sleep on it). I know both sides of this coin very well, and I maintain that "ministry trips" are just that: not missions. Granted, there may be some degree of discipling --if the conference is on a theme which equips the saints. There are often some conversions and re-dedications, but a very high percentage of attendees to the meetings are already believers.
In the 30 years I was in my host country, I saw many enthused career missionaries come --and go. I’ve come to believe one must deeply know they are called by God to do the work of a full-time missionary, or it will be too overwhelming. But if you know he has called you, you know you have access to the grace to keep on keeping on, even when (as happened to us several times) it seems you have made no progress or lost everything you’d worked for up to that point.
I suppose that’s why using the term “missionary” for anyone who has ever put their pinky toe across a border and waved a tract in someone’s face is rather offensive to me. I understand the desire to validate the average Christian's need for significance and sense of purpose, but have we not watered down the definition? It used to be enough to say “I am a missionary”; people understood that meant I lived and worked a primarily spiritual vocation in another country. Now I have to use all the descriptive terms: “a full-time, career, cross-cultural missionary” and even then sometimes have to explain what that is. Have we cheapened the term beyond recognition? Or has the English language moved on to embrace a much broader definition? Or is it a bit of both?
In any case, until given some very good reasons to think differently, I’ll personally refer to ministry trips, whether cross-cultural or not, as such; and I will refer to missions, whether short- or long-term, as such. Both are valuable and have their place in the grand scheme of Kingdom influence, but they are not the same animal. I wish our choice of language better reflected that fact.
Be a missionary every day! (clap 4x)
Tell the world that Jesus is the way!
Be it in the town or country or a busy avenue
Africa or Asia, the task is up to YOU!
So, be a missionary every day! (clap 4x)
Tell the world that Jesus is the way!
The Lord is soon returning, there is no time to lose, so
Be a missionary, God’s own emissary
Be a missionary today!
I can’t even begin to tell you on how many levels I abhor this song. Quite apart from the infantile circus-like tune, the required clapping and cringe-worthy choreography, I object quite strongly to the inferred theology behind it, especially when inflicted upon children.
The inferences are that Hell is the default setting for anyone who doesn’t belong to their particular form of church group, and that it is therefore inherently required of each child (child, mind you) to “evangelize” by telling the world that "Jesus is the way" (whatever they might understand that to mean). Why? Because time is running out, Jesus is coming back soon and it’s all “up to YOU”!
*shudder* No pressure, then.
The song also offends me because of its loose handling of the term “missionary”, as though simply being a Christian and sharing our life, which includes our faith, with others (which I believe is the natural and normal Christian lifestyle) is equivalent to “missions”.
I feel a minor rant coming on.
***
I also have a beef with the term “mission trip”. I have no problem with calling something a short-term mission (aka STM), but having been a full-time career cross-cultural missionary for 30 years, my hackles rise when people call themselves missionaries because they once spent 10 days camping while helping build huts for an indigenous church facility in Oahaxa. Or helped out in disaster areas after the fact. Don’t get me wrong: such things are worthy causes and I applaud those who are willing to use their vacation time and invest in Kingdom work elsewhere. But humanitarian aid doesn’t make you a missionary.
(See the Wikipedia definition: "A short-term mission (STM) is the mobilization of a Christian for a short period of time ranging from days to a year; many short-term missions are called mission trips. The short-term missionary is a fairly recent innovation in the global missions movement"...)
What I have more of an issue with is when American Christians think “I'm a missionary too!” because perhaps once or twice a year they go on what are commonly referred to as “mission trips”, but which I prefer to call “ministry trips”. What happens on these trips is also fine and admirable and a good thing, but it is also not missions.
In this scenario, middle-class American (or other Western) Christians sign up with a large ministry to spend one or two weeks in another country, usually doing exactly what they would do at home if they were on a conference ministry team. Much of their time is spent in large gatherings of mostly indigenous believers (though often the music is taken from Hillsongs or the like and indistinguishable from that at home, save for the language). Ministry team members listen to the main speaker along with everyone else and at the end of the meeting are released to pray with conference attendees, just as they would on a ministry team at home. If they are lucky, they have a halfway competent translator to assist them, but this is not always the case.
Most people who have gone on these trips do report a real surge in their personal spiritual lives. They have taken some risks, faced the unfamiliar and pushed out the boat, as it were. They’ve tasted another culture, usually experienced a higher level of effectiveness in their prayers there, made friends with other team members and sometimes with nationals; certainly they benefit from the steep learning curve. However, their actual contact with the foreign culture remains at best just a taste. They have often paid more to go on this trip (not just the plane fares, hotels and meals, but the huge “overhead” many ministries charge on top of that) than many of the people they minister to earn in a year. They travel with other like-minded Americans, stay in Western-style hotels and eat at least two good meals a day. Yes, they work hard and yes, what they do is a good thing. But after a week or 10 days they fly home, exhausted but happy, and slide right back into their comfortable middle-class American lifestyle.
One may perhaps more accurately refer to this as “American Christian missions tourism”, but it is at best a cross-cultural ministry trip-- not missions.
What DO I consider missions, then?
The Oxford dictionary definition: Missionary: A person sent on a religious mission, especially one sent to promote Christianity in a foreign country.
Wikipedia: “A Christian missionary can be defined as "one who is to witness across cultures".[2] The Lausanne Congress of 1974 defined the term, related to Christian mission, as "to form a viable indigenous church-planting movement". Missionaries can be found in many countries around the world.
Jesus instructed the apostles to make disciples of all nations (Matthew 28:19–20, Mark 16:15–18). This verse is referred to by Christian missionaries as the Great Commission and inspires missionary work.”
Up until very recently, a "missionary" was understood as someone who left their native land to go and live in another country, in order to bring people from a non-churched background to a saving knowledge of Jesus Christ (whatever the strategy for that) and usually, to form an indigenous church out of those so reached. A missionary in this sense is not taking a break from their “normal life” to “do missions”-- missions IS their normal life. It is a full-time job. It involves great personal investment in learning a language, culture, customs and lifestyle sometimes very different from their own, and submitting to that culture in order to bring the living culture of the Kingdom, like yeast, into it.
Cross-cultural career missions means giving your life and energies to a culture that is not yours, with which you are unfamiliar, many aspects of which you may not agree with. It means raising your children bilingually and bi-culturally, knowing they will experience what is to you a foreign culture as their home culture. It involves constantly discipling a church full of (sometimes difficult) first-generation believers who have no mature Christian heritage or influence. It means identifying so much with your host culture that when someone in a Christian gathering calls out for prayer for various countries, it never occurs to you to stand in the group of your country of origin. It means changing almost everything about the way you live, usually to a far lower material standard than the one you left. It is a whole-hearted commitment to getting a spiritual job done under sometimes almost crushing physical, emotional and cultural circumstances.
I spent 12-15 years of my 30 years as a career missionary regularly going on ministry trips from my host country into many other nations. It was always an enriching experience, and often helped me in the permanent work in which I was involved. I’ve been on the all-frills and the no-frills versions of ministry trips. I’ve been a simple team member, I’ve formed, trained and led teams, I’ve organized trips, I’ve been the main conference speaker. I’ve stayed in the luxurious Hotel Gloria in Rio de Janeiro and with my friends in their 2-room house in eastern Ukraine (they gave up their only bed so I could sleep on it). I know both sides of this coin very well, and I maintain that "ministry trips" are just that: not missions. Granted, there may be some degree of discipling --if the conference is on a theme which equips the saints. There are often some conversions and re-dedications, but a very high percentage of attendees to the meetings are already believers.
In the 30 years I was in my host country, I saw many enthused career missionaries come --and go. I’ve come to believe one must deeply know they are called by God to do the work of a full-time missionary, or it will be too overwhelming. But if you know he has called you, you know you have access to the grace to keep on keeping on, even when (as happened to us several times) it seems you have made no progress or lost everything you’d worked for up to that point.
I suppose that’s why using the term “missionary” for anyone who has ever put their pinky toe across a border and waved a tract in someone’s face is rather offensive to me. I understand the desire to validate the average Christian's need for significance and sense of purpose, but have we not watered down the definition? It used to be enough to say “I am a missionary”; people understood that meant I lived and worked a primarily spiritual vocation in another country. Now I have to use all the descriptive terms: “a full-time, career, cross-cultural missionary” and even then sometimes have to explain what that is. Have we cheapened the term beyond recognition? Or has the English language moved on to embrace a much broader definition? Or is it a bit of both?
In any case, until given some very good reasons to think differently, I’ll personally refer to ministry trips, whether cross-cultural or not, as such; and I will refer to missions, whether short- or long-term, as such. Both are valuable and have their place in the grand scheme of Kingdom influence, but they are not the same animal. I wish our choice of language better reflected that fact.
Sunday, April 26, 2015
Patriarchs vs Fathers
It seems to me that church leaders today, whether consciously or unconsciously, choose to lead on a scale somewhere between the Old Testament model of Patriarch or the New Testament model of Father. I’ve been in so many churches over the past 3+ decades and seen so many variations on a theme, but it does seem to boil down to whether the leader in questions has more of an OT or a NT mentality which determines which leadership style he chooses. (I use the term “he” inclusively of “he or she” for ease of writing style. Clearly, the OT allowed only men to be patriarchs, but women leaders today can sometimes show a similar mentality in their chosen leadership style.)
Patriarch:
The male head of a family or tribe; an older man who is powerful within an organization; the male founder of something. (Oxford Dictionary)
Father:
A man in relation to his child or children; an important male figure in the origin and early history of something; a man who provides care and protection. (Oxford Dictionary)
These definitions are similar, yet in some crucial ways disparate. Both are important figures; each could have been the founder or originator of a community, but the mentality behind the function (reflected in the definition) makes all the difference.
What can we learn from how the Old Testament portrays patriarchs?
A patriarch
1. was the unquestioned leader of the tribe, answerable to nobody but God (and thus to the prophets through whom He spoke)
2. was responsible for designating an heir to rule in his stead (today known as nepotism)
3. was responsible to God for the spiritual state of his tribe
4. in practice, often did not have good relationships with his sons, nor train them well to follow in his footsteps
5. ruled until he died
How does the New Testament portray fathers, physical or spiritual? (The same principles apply to mothers. Patriarchy does not allow for this)
A father
1. loves his children and rejoices in their progress, is not threatened by their success
2. is responsible to God to train them to love Him (primarily by example)
3. releases children as they grow into responsibility, balanced with concomitant authority, into the family business
4. trusts Holy Spirit’s working in them, calls them forth
5. leads by serving
In Austria, where I lived 30 years, there was a common but unhealthy dynamic that had existed for hundreds of years on family farms. The book “Herbstmilch” (Autumn Milk), written by an old woman recalling her youthful years on such a farm, really opened my eyes and I saw this dynamic still in place everywhere I looked. I call it the Altbauer/Neubauer dynamic.
The Altbauer (old farmer) was the patriarch of the family and ran the farm. His sons, when they married, brought their wives to come live and work on the family farm. The eldest son’s wife had to defer to her mother-in-law in all things, did not own anything, and was functionally often little more than a slave. As the Altbauer aged, she and her husband, the Neubauer, (new farmer) ended up running the farm and taking all the responsibility, but were not given the authority to make any actual decisions regarding the farm, as the Altbauer reserved this for himself. Often he retained control by simply not making any decision at all, abdicating the responsibility he refused to delegate by not acting when necessary. Legally, this also meant he kept the farm in his name rather than passing it on to his son, even when he could no longer work it himself.
Responsibility without appropriate, concomitant authority is not only wildly unfair, it is a very bad idea. It leads to frustration, ineffectiveness and eventually to despair. But the Altbauer often would not let go of his last shreds of rulership until shortly before (or even after) his death, by which time the Neubauer and his wife would be well into middle age, embittered and had run out of impetus to actually change anything on the farm. But finally they could rule, and by God now they would! --usurping their own young, strong sons in the process. Thus the cycle would begin all over again with the next generation. Many sons said “I’m not having this” and left the farm entirely.
Ideally, if the father rather than the patriarch model had been followed, the Altbauer would have seen his primary role as training the Neubauer to run a farm, and gradually increased the level of authority given to his son along with the level of responsibility placed upon his shoulders. This would eventually have ensured for himself a bit of rest, an old age with a family that actually still got on together, and a farm more likely to thrive because it was run by somebody young enough to shoulder the hard work and make decisions from first-hand experience rather than from outdated habit.
This dynamic is true for churches as well. Hope deferred makes the heart sick, and heartsick sons and daughters do not thrive. People up through their mid-40s have the necessary drive to lead well; if they are never allowed to, a church stagnates. Yes, they need to benefit from the wisdom of their elders, but they need to be the ones making the decisions, because in most cases they are already “running the farm”, as it were.
I remember a church back in Milwaukee which technically believed in plurality of leadership, but in actuality one “elder” ruled them all with an iron fist. This was a community church and said elder was not answerable to anyone. By the time I encountered this fellowship, he had been the head elder for decades and everyone was simply waiting for him to die. But because he lasted into a ripe old age (probably out of sheer spite), by the time he did die those who had become elders under him had lost their fire for positive change and things went on precisely as before, with the elephant still in the room and all the old dysfunctions carrying on into the next generations. Most of the children who had observed all this had no desire at all to follow the faith of their elders.
This is a chilling scenario. If we choose the patriarch role, we run the very real risk of (as many of them did) losing the very sons and daughters into whom we have invested.
The Apostle Paul considered himself a father to the churches he founded and the “sons” he put in charge of them. He certainly anguished over them and wrote with love and caring to them. But he was never interested in founding a dynasty. Quite in contrast, he seemed almost reckless in the speed with which he recognized and designated leaders of a new community of faith, and then went off to found some more, leaving them to it! Although St Paul communicated by letter and visited when he could, he clearly did not consider himself answerable to God for their walk of faith. His job was to train them as well as he could in the time allotted him, and then trust Holy Spirit in them to lead them into all truth.
We live under the New, not the Old, Covenant/Testament. But even if we wish to reference, say, the priesthood in the OT (which --though also problematic theologically --perhaps corresponds a little more to modern-day church leadership than does patriarchy), priests were relieved of active duty at age 50. Yes, they still served in the temple, but no longer in the roles reserved for younger, stronger men.
Can we not learn from these principles? Certainly at the latest by the time we start having biological grandchildren ourselves, we need to be thinking about what that means. As a grandparent, we are undoubtedly related and have a place of honour in the life of the grandchild. But we certainly do not have the same decision-making role in their lives as do their own parents. If asked, we may give our input, but then we need to shut up and let them do what they decide to do! We need to trust that whatever we were able to teach those parents, by example and by word, in the years we had that role in their lives, was enough; and that whatever we messed up (and we did), God is able to help and heal and teach them something better.
Let’s choose to love and train those we bring up in the Lord, and then release them to be all they can be. Let’s not micro-manage from behind the scenes. Let’s not assign responsibility without authority, leading to discouragement and bitterness. Let’s recognize who is doing the job, affirm them in it, release them to it, and rejoice in their success. Let’s imitate our Father in heaven-- let’s choose to be fathers and mothers, not patriarchs reflecting a covenant no longer in effect.
Patriarch:
The male head of a family or tribe; an older man who is powerful within an organization; the male founder of something. (Oxford Dictionary)
Father:
A man in relation to his child or children; an important male figure in the origin and early history of something; a man who provides care and protection. (Oxford Dictionary)
These definitions are similar, yet in some crucial ways disparate. Both are important figures; each could have been the founder or originator of a community, but the mentality behind the function (reflected in the definition) makes all the difference.
What can we learn from how the Old Testament portrays patriarchs?
A patriarch
1. was the unquestioned leader of the tribe, answerable to nobody but God (and thus to the prophets through whom He spoke)
2. was responsible for designating an heir to rule in his stead (today known as nepotism)
3. was responsible to God for the spiritual state of his tribe
4. in practice, often did not have good relationships with his sons, nor train them well to follow in his footsteps
5. ruled until he died
How does the New Testament portray fathers, physical or spiritual? (The same principles apply to mothers. Patriarchy does not allow for this)
A father
1. loves his children and rejoices in their progress, is not threatened by their success
2. is responsible to God to train them to love Him (primarily by example)
3. releases children as they grow into responsibility, balanced with concomitant authority, into the family business
4. trusts Holy Spirit’s working in them, calls them forth
5. leads by serving
In Austria, where I lived 30 years, there was a common but unhealthy dynamic that had existed for hundreds of years on family farms. The book “Herbstmilch” (Autumn Milk), written by an old woman recalling her youthful years on such a farm, really opened my eyes and I saw this dynamic still in place everywhere I looked. I call it the Altbauer/Neubauer dynamic.
The Altbauer (old farmer) was the patriarch of the family and ran the farm. His sons, when they married, brought their wives to come live and work on the family farm. The eldest son’s wife had to defer to her mother-in-law in all things, did not own anything, and was functionally often little more than a slave. As the Altbauer aged, she and her husband, the Neubauer, (new farmer) ended up running the farm and taking all the responsibility, but were not given the authority to make any actual decisions regarding the farm, as the Altbauer reserved this for himself. Often he retained control by simply not making any decision at all, abdicating the responsibility he refused to delegate by not acting when necessary. Legally, this also meant he kept the farm in his name rather than passing it on to his son, even when he could no longer work it himself.
Responsibility without appropriate, concomitant authority is not only wildly unfair, it is a very bad idea. It leads to frustration, ineffectiveness and eventually to despair. But the Altbauer often would not let go of his last shreds of rulership until shortly before (or even after) his death, by which time the Neubauer and his wife would be well into middle age, embittered and had run out of impetus to actually change anything on the farm. But finally they could rule, and by God now they would! --usurping their own young, strong sons in the process. Thus the cycle would begin all over again with the next generation. Many sons said “I’m not having this” and left the farm entirely.
Ideally, if the father rather than the patriarch model had been followed, the Altbauer would have seen his primary role as training the Neubauer to run a farm, and gradually increased the level of authority given to his son along with the level of responsibility placed upon his shoulders. This would eventually have ensured for himself a bit of rest, an old age with a family that actually still got on together, and a farm more likely to thrive because it was run by somebody young enough to shoulder the hard work and make decisions from first-hand experience rather than from outdated habit.
This dynamic is true for churches as well. Hope deferred makes the heart sick, and heartsick sons and daughters do not thrive. People up through their mid-40s have the necessary drive to lead well; if they are never allowed to, a church stagnates. Yes, they need to benefit from the wisdom of their elders, but they need to be the ones making the decisions, because in most cases they are already “running the farm”, as it were.
I remember a church back in Milwaukee which technically believed in plurality of leadership, but in actuality one “elder” ruled them all with an iron fist. This was a community church and said elder was not answerable to anyone. By the time I encountered this fellowship, he had been the head elder for decades and everyone was simply waiting for him to die. But because he lasted into a ripe old age (probably out of sheer spite), by the time he did die those who had become elders under him had lost their fire for positive change and things went on precisely as before, with the elephant still in the room and all the old dysfunctions carrying on into the next generations. Most of the children who had observed all this had no desire at all to follow the faith of their elders.
This is a chilling scenario. If we choose the patriarch role, we run the very real risk of (as many of them did) losing the very sons and daughters into whom we have invested.
The Apostle Paul considered himself a father to the churches he founded and the “sons” he put in charge of them. He certainly anguished over them and wrote with love and caring to them. But he was never interested in founding a dynasty. Quite in contrast, he seemed almost reckless in the speed with which he recognized and designated leaders of a new community of faith, and then went off to found some more, leaving them to it! Although St Paul communicated by letter and visited when he could, he clearly did not consider himself answerable to God for their walk of faith. His job was to train them as well as he could in the time allotted him, and then trust Holy Spirit in them to lead them into all truth.
We live under the New, not the Old, Covenant/Testament. But even if we wish to reference, say, the priesthood in the OT (which --though also problematic theologically --perhaps corresponds a little more to modern-day church leadership than does patriarchy), priests were relieved of active duty at age 50. Yes, they still served in the temple, but no longer in the roles reserved for younger, stronger men.
Can we not learn from these principles? Certainly at the latest by the time we start having biological grandchildren ourselves, we need to be thinking about what that means. As a grandparent, we are undoubtedly related and have a place of honour in the life of the grandchild. But we certainly do not have the same decision-making role in their lives as do their own parents. If asked, we may give our input, but then we need to shut up and let them do what they decide to do! We need to trust that whatever we were able to teach those parents, by example and by word, in the years we had that role in their lives, was enough; and that whatever we messed up (and we did), God is able to help and heal and teach them something better.
Let’s choose to love and train those we bring up in the Lord, and then release them to be all they can be. Let’s not micro-manage from behind the scenes. Let’s not assign responsibility without authority, leading to discouragement and bitterness. Let’s recognize who is doing the job, affirm them in it, release them to it, and rejoice in their success. Let’s imitate our Father in heaven-- let’s choose to be fathers and mothers, not patriarchs reflecting a covenant no longer in effect.
Thursday, December 11, 2014
Massage Musings
A friend of mine invited me to join her for a spa day last Monday. It included one of the best massages I’ve ever had. Though it was advertised as a back and shoulder massage (including facial), which often can be pretty minimal, this young woman really did it right. The room was warm and semi-darkened, tinkly music played softly in the background, aromatic oils perfumed the air, and the massage bed was covered in thick cushy blankets and very comfortable. Even the spot to put your face through was nicely padded and fit my head well.
After I was nude and under the fluffy blankets, the masseuse asked me how I like my massage: light, medium, firm? I replied that I would yell if she hurt me but otherwise I’d take all the pummeling she could offer (I like my muscles properly kneaded)-- and after warming me up, she did! It was pure heaven; and she massaged not only my full back right down to the top of my bum, but my neck up to the hairline, arms, hands and fingers, and the front of my shoulders too. Then she proceeded to do much the same thing (though gentler) to my face and neck, slathering me all the while with delicious-smelling and -feeling unguents.
As I lay there, my eyes closed, limply being pampered, I realized how completely and utterly relaxed I was whilst having my bare body manipulated by a person who was a complete stranger to me. I mean, really, the only other time I feel touch on my bare skin is when I am intimate with my husband! So why didn’t this bother me in the least?
Because this woman is a professional; and besides that, had quickly clearly shown she knew what she was doing. It never occurred to me to worry that she might be, for example, a lesbian looking for more than massage. It goes without saying that one should never have to worry that one’s doctor, dentist, masseuse or physical therapist will abuse their profession by having sexual thoughts, ogling your body, making overtures or entendres or, God forbid, touching you inappropriately during treatment.
And then it suddenly hit me that I was really, really angry that X had done precisely that when she was P’s physical therapist. I thought I’d done all the forgiving necessary, but I’d never realized the blinking obvious: that X actually abused the patient/therapist relationship when she flirted with my ex-husband, a clearly married man, while her hands roamed his bare skin in the course of prescribed treatment. (No wonder he signed up for more --very expensive-- treatments after his prescribed course was over!)
Of course I am not blaming X for everything. P clearly had to respond-- and respond he did. But she did give him something to respond to that he couldn’t have seen coming, and shouldn’t have had to worry about in that context. She got under his defenses when he was injured, had lost some self-confidence, and was in a vulnerable position. In a very real sense, she got under his skin. X acted highly unprofessionally and abused her position of trust as a physical therapist. And realizing that so clearly made me really, really furious.
I realize I am particularly upset because it was precisely this sort of abuse that we had to deal with a few times in the course of pastoring for over 20 years, and P was always especially angry with those people in our care who abused a position of authority or trust. Yet when it happened to him, he couldn’t see it at all and he consistently defended X if anyone questioned how their relationship came about.
Well, I know what to do now, I know the ropes of forgiveness. But I had to vent and get it out here in writing so I can deal with it appropriately. I suppose things like this will still come up periodically, even though it’s been six years now, and even though I have made every effort to deal with all that I know. Funny what can trigger a deeper level of knowledge --and response.
It was still a great massage experience, though!
After I was nude and under the fluffy blankets, the masseuse asked me how I like my massage: light, medium, firm? I replied that I would yell if she hurt me but otherwise I’d take all the pummeling she could offer (I like my muscles properly kneaded)-- and after warming me up, she did! It was pure heaven; and she massaged not only my full back right down to the top of my bum, but my neck up to the hairline, arms, hands and fingers, and the front of my shoulders too. Then she proceeded to do much the same thing (though gentler) to my face and neck, slathering me all the while with delicious-smelling and -feeling unguents.
As I lay there, my eyes closed, limply being pampered, I realized how completely and utterly relaxed I was whilst having my bare body manipulated by a person who was a complete stranger to me. I mean, really, the only other time I feel touch on my bare skin is when I am intimate with my husband! So why didn’t this bother me in the least?
Because this woman is a professional; and besides that, had quickly clearly shown she knew what she was doing. It never occurred to me to worry that she might be, for example, a lesbian looking for more than massage. It goes without saying that one should never have to worry that one’s doctor, dentist, masseuse or physical therapist will abuse their profession by having sexual thoughts, ogling your body, making overtures or entendres or, God forbid, touching you inappropriately during treatment.
And then it suddenly hit me that I was really, really angry that X had done precisely that when she was P’s physical therapist. I thought I’d done all the forgiving necessary, but I’d never realized the blinking obvious: that X actually abused the patient/therapist relationship when she flirted with my ex-husband, a clearly married man, while her hands roamed his bare skin in the course of prescribed treatment. (No wonder he signed up for more --very expensive-- treatments after his prescribed course was over!)
Of course I am not blaming X for everything. P clearly had to respond-- and respond he did. But she did give him something to respond to that he couldn’t have seen coming, and shouldn’t have had to worry about in that context. She got under his defenses when he was injured, had lost some self-confidence, and was in a vulnerable position. In a very real sense, she got under his skin. X acted highly unprofessionally and abused her position of trust as a physical therapist. And realizing that so clearly made me really, really furious.
I realize I am particularly upset because it was precisely this sort of abuse that we had to deal with a few times in the course of pastoring for over 20 years, and P was always especially angry with those people in our care who abused a position of authority or trust. Yet when it happened to him, he couldn’t see it at all and he consistently defended X if anyone questioned how their relationship came about.
Well, I know what to do now, I know the ropes of forgiveness. But I had to vent and get it out here in writing so I can deal with it appropriately. I suppose things like this will still come up periodically, even though it’s been six years now, and even though I have made every effort to deal with all that I know. Funny what can trigger a deeper level of knowledge --and response.
It was still a great massage experience, though!
Thursday, August 14, 2014
Just Imagine
What if I had a Christian friend who was into a lifestyle of regular overeating and overconsumption-- say, 2 or 3 times the planet average? If I said to him pointedly that it was unhealthy for him, affects others who have less, and he should stop it, he may very well think me quite rude and that it was none of my business-- and he would be right. If I went so far as to tell him flat-out he was a sinner because he willfully and regularly indulged in the "biblical sin" of gluttony, and warned him of possible eternal consequences as well as almost certain temporal ones, I doubt he would care to have me as his friend any longer.
Most of us do have someone in our circle of friends who is greedy (of which gluttony is a form), whether we are personally aware of it or not. But because this is a culturally acceptable sin among Western Christians, we tolerate and tacitly support greed and gluttony, in others and in ourselves (sometimes even calling that fourth luxury limousine "the blessing of the Lord"!). If I choose to remain friends with such a person, I am not by doing so saying that what he is doing is not a sin. I am not supporting him in his sinful lifestyle choices, nor am I sinning myself by associating with him. I am simply being his friend.
Why is the "biblical sin" of homosexual practice treated so differently? If I personally believe, and even think I have good reason for doing so, that my friend is in error and is endangering himself and/or others by his lifestyle choices (whether overconsumption or homosexual practice), I have some choices to make about how valuable the friend is as a person, how valuable this friendship is to me, and the terms upon which I will retain his friendship. Almost all of us, in the case of greed, are willing to accept that whatever his choices, and whether I approve of them or not, they are HIS choices for which he is responsible, and as a friend my job is to love him whatever choices he makes.
If it is a close friendship, I may have the freedom (with sensitivity and when invited) to tell him how I feel about it-- once. But I certainly don't have the freedom to confront him out of "tough love", to nag him, to try and persuade him otherwise, to leave little news articles around for him to find clearly outlining the dangers of his choices, etc. Such actions would not be considered congruent with friendship in most cultures, and it wouldn't be surprising if my friend felt he no longer required such a "friend" as me in his life.
Making it more personal, think about the sins you commit every day-- those of commission (what you do) and those of omission (what you fail to do). Would you like someone following you around pointing out each incidence, and nagging you, under threat of withdrawing their friendship, until you cleaned up your act? Many Christians seem to have the warped concept of Holy Spirit as this sort of micro-managing sin-spoiler who uses a guilty conscience and a fear of consequences to shame us into better outward behaviour. Where did we get this strange idea? And why would we want to be "that guy" to our spouse, our children, our friends?
Just as I would not like my friend peering over my shoulder and saying, "Did you really need cream in that coffee? What about your waistline?" "Another day past, and you still didn't call your grieving friend", or "You know, what you just said was gossip", my friend does not need me doing the same to him, whatever his transgression. This is not "soft love", as some would have it; it's just love. It's just treating him with respect and honour, the way I would like to be treated. It's the Golden Rule. Just when did following the Golden Rule become unacceptable for Christians?
If we want to think biblically, we need to be aware that there are 5 to 6 times as many Bible verses condemning greed as opposed to the few which even mention homosexuality. The greed of the Western world, which has been part of forming the basis of modern evangelical theology, is certainly and demonstrably far more responsible for the current sorry state of the globe than is the success or failure of any feared "homosexual agenda". (The sins we consider "serious" are usually the ones we are not knowingly guilty of ourselves.)
Just imagine: what if we treated what we consider "fat people" (without even asking or knowing why they are the size they are: heredity? Diabetes or other disease of which weight gain is a corollary? Culturally desirable? A side effect of medication? Or overconsumption?) the way some Christians seem to want us to treat homosexual people? What if we assumed what their private lives looked like, judged them, shunned them, broke fellowship with them, refused to hire or to be served by them, kept them from schools and the medical profession, made rude remarks about them, blamed them for all ills in the world, and tried to get others to do the same? How long would this kind of patently unloving and non-Christian behaviour be tolerated if it were overweight people on the receiving end of it, and not homosexual people? (Have you ever noticed, by the way, that a great many of the vitriolic Christians ranting against homosexuality would fall into the overweight category themselves?)
After all, many of the verses that apply to sexual immorality also apply to greed. By all means, be biblical: but be consistent, too. So according to Ephesians 5:5 anyone who is greedy has no inheritance in the Kingdom of Christ and of God. Ephesians 5:3 tells us greed "must not even be mentioned among you as is proper among the saints", and 1 Corinthians 5:11 tells us we should not even associate with a brother or sister (a fellow believer) who is greedy; do not even eat with such a one! And it goes on; greed is, according to the weight the Bible lends it, apparently a much bigger deal in God's Kingdom than it is in our agenda, and sexual transgression a far smaller deal. I am embarrassed by and ashamed of my fellow believers who believe they are acting biblically and seem to think God is applauding their "stand for righteousness" when they hate on people God created and loves.
I can't help but think that either the Good News is genuinely good, or it's not; that Jesus paid for it all, or he did not. Either all our failings and sins, whether intentional or otherwise, are forgiven and covered by his once-for-all sacrifice, or they are not, and we are all toast. We like to pick and choose, and find some sins worse than others. I personally have great difficulty with the thought of unrepentant murderers or child molesters being offered the same clean slate I am. But there it is. It's either for all of us, or it's for none of us. And especially when my friend and I both know Christ and his redeeming love, I am not Holy Spirit (part of whose job it is to convict of sin, righteousness and judgement) in his life, nor is he in mine; that position is taken.
In this life, we will always meet and interact as imperfect, flawed, broken, yet beautiful and lovable, worthy-of-being-redeemed people. None of us live in the place where that process is complete, and none of us know the essential raw material of the other that God has to work with.
We as the Christian Church must, and I as an individual Christian must, learn a deeper measure of grace-- both to receive it for ourselves and extend it to others.
Tuesday, July 15, 2014
Poignancy
Lying on the couch, I could hear A upstairs playing the first line to the Beatles' "Norwegian Wood". I'd always liked the tune of this song, but found the words senseless. The evening before, a girlfriend and I had been discussing our previous marriages and suddenly, into my head dropped these poignant lyrics:
(sung to the tune of "Norwegian Wood")
You may not have known
how what you said cut to the bone.
I, wounded inside, bled every time;
part of me died.
But nobody noticed my pain, because I carried on.
Yet slowly but surely, the love that had held me was gone.
I tried to explain how your abuse
caused me such pain.
You never could hear;
I had to conclude: you didn't care.
I drew back inside
where it was safe, where I could hide.
You thought me so hard;
you couldn't see all of my scars.
If "couldn't" or "wouldn't" was primary, I'll never know;
but you didn't love me in ways that would let my heart know.
If we had known sooner the anger that burned in your soul,
we might have been allies against what could only control.
And when we arise,
we will each see with clearer eyes.
No longer alone,
then we will know as we are known.
Then we will know as we are known.
I am (as always) aware that this is only my view and only a partial view, but as far as it goes it is truth, and I found it poignant. Perhaps it will speak to some other women, or men, out there who have experienced something similar in a relationship.
(sung to the tune of "Norwegian Wood")
You may not have known
how what you said cut to the bone.
I, wounded inside, bled every time;
part of me died.
But nobody noticed my pain, because I carried on.
Yet slowly but surely, the love that had held me was gone.
I tried to explain how your abuse
caused me such pain.
You never could hear;
I had to conclude: you didn't care.
I drew back inside
where it was safe, where I could hide.
You thought me so hard;
you couldn't see all of my scars.
If "couldn't" or "wouldn't" was primary, I'll never know;
but you didn't love me in ways that would let my heart know.
If we had known sooner the anger that burned in your soul,
we might have been allies against what could only control.
And when we arise,
we will each see with clearer eyes.
No longer alone,
then we will know as we are known.
Then we will know as we are known.
I am (as always) aware that this is only my view and only a partial view, but as far as it goes it is truth, and I found it poignant. Perhaps it will speak to some other women, or men, out there who have experienced something similar in a relationship.
Friday, May 30, 2014
Religion For The Strong?
I fear that we have made into a religion for the strong, what was always intended to be a safe place for the weak.
Personally, I remember renewal as being a safe place to open my heart to God, gradually learning how kind he is and learning to trust how gently he would lead me. Yes, I had power encounters too. And I believe in, and deal with, the power of the Kingdom. But what really changed my heart were the deep times. Is there any space left for that in today’s charismatic church? Even one that claims to have been shaped by renewal? (Note I do not use the term “revival”, because I do not think that has happened-- and certainly isn’t happening now. A subject for another time, perhaps.)
Don’t get me wrong. I believe in, have experienced and taught all this stuff myself. Power, faith, the prophetic, miracles-- it’s all part of the Kingdom, and I am a Kingdom person. I have greatly personally benefited (for example) from Bill Johnson’s teachings, from Bethel, from Randy Clark and Global Awakening. But the call to be “a world changer”, the demand that “we owe the world an encounter with Jesus”, the emphasis on a “supernatural lifestyle”, all promote an urgency and a weight of responsibility that seems at odds with Jesus’ call to take his light burden, and wear his easy yoke.
I have observed that these themes, though valid, have often been overly emphasized in reaction to many years of the opposite. And by now it’s almost all I am hearing. I fear that only the young and strong, the bold by nature, and those who have a Type-A personality in the first place can and will respond well for any length of time to such emphases. What about all the rest of humanity?
Often, we in charismatic circles are really inhumane in how we deal with human weakness and frailty. Are you sick? Have faith, get healed. Are you poor? Claim those biblical promises. Are you mentally ill, or emotionally drained? Just snap out of it, God is good, all the time! We demand “faith” in “God’s plan” and by that we seem to mean an emotional commitment and/or strong mental assent to certain propositions, or a desperate clinging to the hope of a particular outcome.
What happens when it all doesn’t work the way we are told it should? And we all know it often doesn’t.
Will we resort again to empty platitudes, or worse, to shame and blame?
Who will be kind to their brothers and sisters in the face of tragedy? Who will be there to carry and comfort me when the promises were not fulfilled, when he/she died (or left me) after all, when I simply didn’t have the strength to “believe” any more, in the face of overwhelming evidence to the contrary? Who in those times will stand by me without either feeling or transmitting shame, without a sense of failure, weeping with those who weep, humanity sharing the troubles of humanity?
Sadly, the non-charismatic church is often far more adept at this “carrying one another’s burdens” than we are. Those of us who claim to know the power of the Kingdom should be the ones who are most able to enter into another’s pain and bring the light of the presence of Christ (who has promised always to be with us, not always to fix our circumstances).
Jesus Christ: the same today, yesterday and forever; fully human, and fully God. May we not sacrifice either one for the other.
Personally, I remember renewal as being a safe place to open my heart to God, gradually learning how kind he is and learning to trust how gently he would lead me. Yes, I had power encounters too. And I believe in, and deal with, the power of the Kingdom. But what really changed my heart were the deep times. Is there any space left for that in today’s charismatic church? Even one that claims to have been shaped by renewal? (Note I do not use the term “revival”, because I do not think that has happened-- and certainly isn’t happening now. A subject for another time, perhaps.)
Don’t get me wrong. I believe in, have experienced and taught all this stuff myself. Power, faith, the prophetic, miracles-- it’s all part of the Kingdom, and I am a Kingdom person. I have greatly personally benefited (for example) from Bill Johnson’s teachings, from Bethel, from Randy Clark and Global Awakening. But the call to be “a world changer”, the demand that “we owe the world an encounter with Jesus”, the emphasis on a “supernatural lifestyle”, all promote an urgency and a weight of responsibility that seems at odds with Jesus’ call to take his light burden, and wear his easy yoke.
I have observed that these themes, though valid, have often been overly emphasized in reaction to many years of the opposite. And by now it’s almost all I am hearing. I fear that only the young and strong, the bold by nature, and those who have a Type-A personality in the first place can and will respond well for any length of time to such emphases. What about all the rest of humanity?
Often, we in charismatic circles are really inhumane in how we deal with human weakness and frailty. Are you sick? Have faith, get healed. Are you poor? Claim those biblical promises. Are you mentally ill, or emotionally drained? Just snap out of it, God is good, all the time! We demand “faith” in “God’s plan” and by that we seem to mean an emotional commitment and/or strong mental assent to certain propositions, or a desperate clinging to the hope of a particular outcome.
What happens when it all doesn’t work the way we are told it should? And we all know it often doesn’t.
Will we resort again to empty platitudes, or worse, to shame and blame?
Who will be kind to their brothers and sisters in the face of tragedy? Who will be there to carry and comfort me when the promises were not fulfilled, when he/she died (or left me) after all, when I simply didn’t have the strength to “believe” any more, in the face of overwhelming evidence to the contrary? Who in those times will stand by me without either feeling or transmitting shame, without a sense of failure, weeping with those who weep, humanity sharing the troubles of humanity?
Sadly, the non-charismatic church is often far more adept at this “carrying one another’s burdens” than we are. Those of us who claim to know the power of the Kingdom should be the ones who are most able to enter into another’s pain and bring the light of the presence of Christ (who has promised always to be with us, not always to fix our circumstances).
Jesus Christ: the same today, yesterday and forever; fully human, and fully God. May we not sacrifice either one for the other.
Who was that woman?
The longer I am away from my first marriage, the more I wonder how I put up with so many aspects of it. Over the years, I had gotten to where I simply let P’s self-centeredness slide off my back. It was sometimes embarrassing in front of others, true, and it often annoyed me; but I knew pointing it out or challenging it would only punish me, and not change him. So as it increased, I gradually said less, not more. Looking back, I think we probably could not have continued so long any other way. It was only the supremely self-centered handling of his love affair that brought to light, even to him, that something had to give.
But this time, it wasn’t me.
I still marvel how he never went the 2nd logical step, never went beyond learning how his brokenness through early and extended abuse affected himself, to how it affected others, most especially his wife. He always did have great difficulty facing the fact that he was the problem, even when everything he learned pointed to that. The family knew it for years. It was our unspoken secret.
When P finally, after over half a year of being in love and months of counseling, did admit to a degree of culpability to me (weeping, saying he was busted and he was sorry I married such poor material; much self-pity), his consequent behavior seemed far more to say “Okay, I've admitted I am broken, therefore you must accommodate me” rather than “I see now I am the one who is most broken, I am the problem here, therefore I should now try to accommodate YOU.” And his counselor was impatient with me because I was no longer willing to do what I had been doing for all of our married life: enable this nonsense. I had known how broken he was many years before he faced it. I think by then I had reached my breaking point; there was no longer a willingness in me to have less than the whole deal.
The abusive mindset is most clearly seen in how P reacted to the truths he learned. The logical and healthy outcome of learning that all these years one really had been largely the one in the wrong would normally be a repentant attitude, a “Oh no, what have I done to you, how can I make it up to you?” heart. His reaction was, instead, anger and offense when I agreed with all that he now claimed to know about himself. This is not repentance. Self-defense has no place in genuine repentance.
The attitude that came from him was: “I’ve been so messed up, and that’s not my fault, so you have to excuse everything I’ve ever done/said/ways I’ve hurt you because of it. And you can’t hold me accountable for any way in which I am now acting hurtfully toward you, because I’ve been far more hurt than you have, so you must support me even when you are being victimized by me.” He turned the tables and made himself the victim; there was no room for ME to be a victim, his victim. What he had learned about how the abuse damaged him was used as a buffer against holding himself accountable, rather than as a tool for doing so. And that’s what never changed, no matter what words he spoke to his counselor.
I am aware I am well out of that relationship, and relieved and glad to have the blessed chance I have been given to start a new life without emotional abuse at home. But I do wonder about the person I was, who put up with this for so long. I guess believing I didn’t have any other option was a large part of it. I married without a back door, without the thought of divorce being an option.
But when that option was extended to me, it was still very hard to actually take it. For all of our initial talk about not holding it against each other, P did not keep his word; it was a rather messy divorce, with lack of genuine communication, ridiculous quibbling and unfair treatment of me. I ended up far more materially impoverished than I would have been had we not gone the "mutual agreement" route. But as I always said when we had plenty of my inheritance left: “It’s only money.”
And so it is. What I have now, even with the pain of leaving my money, my country, my children and 30 years of my life behind, is worth far more than a dollar amount.
I still do care how P gets on in life, but it is a very distant caring. I would like to know him to be happy, but I don’t want to be involved in it in any way. It would be nice, since our children live nearby and still have regular communication with him, if he could someday wake up and comprehend the truth of certain things; but his parents (in spite of being told and shown) never did, and it’s highly unlikely he will be able to get very far if he hasn’t been able to by now.
I suppose it’s one of those bittersweet things in life: being so very thankful for my second chance while at the same time rather sad, and sometimes a bit resentful, that I so needed one.
But this time, it wasn’t me.
I still marvel how he never went the 2nd logical step, never went beyond learning how his brokenness through early and extended abuse affected himself, to how it affected others, most especially his wife. He always did have great difficulty facing the fact that he was the problem, even when everything he learned pointed to that. The family knew it for years. It was our unspoken secret.
When P finally, after over half a year of being in love and months of counseling, did admit to a degree of culpability to me (weeping, saying he was busted and he was sorry I married such poor material; much self-pity), his consequent behavior seemed far more to say “Okay, I've admitted I am broken, therefore you must accommodate me” rather than “I see now I am the one who is most broken, I am the problem here, therefore I should now try to accommodate YOU.” And his counselor was impatient with me because I was no longer willing to do what I had been doing for all of our married life: enable this nonsense. I had known how broken he was many years before he faced it. I think by then I had reached my breaking point; there was no longer a willingness in me to have less than the whole deal.
The abusive mindset is most clearly seen in how P reacted to the truths he learned. The logical and healthy outcome of learning that all these years one really had been largely the one in the wrong would normally be a repentant attitude, a “Oh no, what have I done to you, how can I make it up to you?” heart. His reaction was, instead, anger and offense when I agreed with all that he now claimed to know about himself. This is not repentance. Self-defense has no place in genuine repentance.
The attitude that came from him was: “I’ve been so messed up, and that’s not my fault, so you have to excuse everything I’ve ever done/said/ways I’ve hurt you because of it. And you can’t hold me accountable for any way in which I am now acting hurtfully toward you, because I’ve been far more hurt than you have, so you must support me even when you are being victimized by me.” He turned the tables and made himself the victim; there was no room for ME to be a victim, his victim. What he had learned about how the abuse damaged him was used as a buffer against holding himself accountable, rather than as a tool for doing so. And that’s what never changed, no matter what words he spoke to his counselor.
I am aware I am well out of that relationship, and relieved and glad to have the blessed chance I have been given to start a new life without emotional abuse at home. But I do wonder about the person I was, who put up with this for so long. I guess believing I didn’t have any other option was a large part of it. I married without a back door, without the thought of divorce being an option.
But when that option was extended to me, it was still very hard to actually take it. For all of our initial talk about not holding it against each other, P did not keep his word; it was a rather messy divorce, with lack of genuine communication, ridiculous quibbling and unfair treatment of me. I ended up far more materially impoverished than I would have been had we not gone the "mutual agreement" route. But as I always said when we had plenty of my inheritance left: “It’s only money.”
And so it is. What I have now, even with the pain of leaving my money, my country, my children and 30 years of my life behind, is worth far more than a dollar amount.
I still do care how P gets on in life, but it is a very distant caring. I would like to know him to be happy, but I don’t want to be involved in it in any way. It would be nice, since our children live nearby and still have regular communication with him, if he could someday wake up and comprehend the truth of certain things; but his parents (in spite of being told and shown) never did, and it’s highly unlikely he will be able to get very far if he hasn’t been able to by now.
I suppose it’s one of those bittersweet things in life: being so very thankful for my second chance while at the same time rather sad, and sometimes a bit resentful, that I so needed one.
Sunday, May 25, 2014
Rant Of A Foodie
Dear friends of all dietary persuasions,
If you happen to be vegetarian, vegan, gluten/lactose/sucrose intolerant, or simply choose to follow the latest fads of grain-free, paleo, organic-only or whatever it is this month/year, please listen to -- and forgive-- my rant.
All of the above, whether by personal health choice, moral persuasion, or medical condition, are restricted diets. That means: of the vast array of ingestible substances known to mankind, you have decided it is best for you not to eat some of them. In this sense, if unrestricted access to all foodstuffs is considered "normal", you eat an "abnormal" diet. Can we be agreed on this?
That is, of course, your free choice-- or, in the case of those who are genuinely allergic to or physically intolerant of a certain food, a medical necessity, and I stand by your right to make that personal choice. We all choose whether or not we even want to try eating, say, fermented Korean Kimchi or roasted grubs (both delicacies in certain cultures).
However, I would like to remind you, my fellow privileged friends (because really, only those of us in the affluent West can afford to be this choosy about the foods we eat), that this is a personal lifestyle choice, not a universally applicable moral imperative. My apologies to those of my friends who are aware of this and do not force their food convictions on all comers.
Those of us who, thankfully, experience no dietary restrictions do not need your lecture about the evils of refined sugars as we try to enjoy our one cupcake of the week. We don’t need you to throw up your hands in horror when we order a steak at a restaurant. We are embarrassed for you when you drop such comments as “I didn’t know anybody ate that any more” or “Ugh--- flesh!” or “Haven’t you read the latest studies that prove X+Y=current dietary fad?”
Please understand that your dietary choices are your choices, and are valid for you for all the reasons you made them. But please grant the rest of us that freedom, too. We do not need to be educated by you on the evils of what we choose to put into our bodies. The Internet will do that daily, whether we want it to or not. And, as in the case of several foodstuffs I years ago refused to give up in favor of chemically-laden, “better-for-you” substitutes, often fashion will eventually come around to our side again and scientists will fall all over themselves disproving their previous claims.
I do understand there are genuine medical conditions which require dietary restriction, and have great sympathy for that. I spent many years married to a severe hypoglycemic with other food allergies as well. I cooked some crazy things in those years! I know what can happen when you genuinely cannot tolerate, say, butter, and someone neglects to inform you there is butter in the sauce they serve, even when you asked (asthma attack in the night). In this case, perhaps it would be wisest (and kindest) to sometimes, as in the case of a barbecue, consider bringing your own special food, rather than require that everyone around you bend to your special needs. And I understand that’s a pain in the rear.
But I don’t believe you want to be known as a pain in the rear, either. So please: I beg you to stop preaching at the rest of us, making universally applicable what you believe to be true for yourself in dietary matters. For example, “Cow milk is for baby cows, not for humans!” I hear you cry. Well, the vast majority of humans have been doing very well on it for countless centuries, so I think I will keep right on enjoying my milk, cheese, cream and butter (in moderation, of course *wink*) unless my body, or my personal physician, tells me otherwise.
I, like most of you reading this, have the great privilege of living in the affluent West, where I have access to foodstuffs from across the world; where I can buy cheap and processed or expensive and organic, or somewhere in the vast array in between; where I have lots of choices, every day. I happen to be one of those in the majority who may enjoy an unrestricted (i.e., normal) diet. I am aware of my blessing, and intend to enjoy it. I am happy to accommodate your dietary needs, but please forgive me if I have a little less sympathy for your unrequired choices, and no patience with your wholesale judgement of any other choice.
“Eat, drink, and be merry; for tomorrow we die.” You may believe that your food choices entitle you to a great deal more tomorrows than mine do-- well, bully for you! If it is still a concern for you then, we can discuss the merits of these convictions on the other side. Until such a time, let’s bless each other in our various choices and allow each other to make them freely.
Well. Rant over. I think it’s time for a glass of wine (oh! Alcohol!), some crackers (grains!!) and a bit of aged cheese (milk products! She’s gonna DIE!).
Well, so are we all. It’s just possible I might enjoy the journey a bit more than some of my friends may. :D
If you happen to be vegetarian, vegan, gluten/lactose/sucrose intolerant, or simply choose to follow the latest fads of grain-free, paleo, organic-only or whatever it is this month/year, please listen to -- and forgive-- my rant.
All of the above, whether by personal health choice, moral persuasion, or medical condition, are restricted diets. That means: of the vast array of ingestible substances known to mankind, you have decided it is best for you not to eat some of them. In this sense, if unrestricted access to all foodstuffs is considered "normal", you eat an "abnormal" diet. Can we be agreed on this?
That is, of course, your free choice-- or, in the case of those who are genuinely allergic to or physically intolerant of a certain food, a medical necessity, and I stand by your right to make that personal choice. We all choose whether or not we even want to try eating, say, fermented Korean Kimchi or roasted grubs (both delicacies in certain cultures).
However, I would like to remind you, my fellow privileged friends (because really, only those of us in the affluent West can afford to be this choosy about the foods we eat), that this is a personal lifestyle choice, not a universally applicable moral imperative. My apologies to those of my friends who are aware of this and do not force their food convictions on all comers.
Those of us who, thankfully, experience no dietary restrictions do not need your lecture about the evils of refined sugars as we try to enjoy our one cupcake of the week. We don’t need you to throw up your hands in horror when we order a steak at a restaurant. We are embarrassed for you when you drop such comments as “I didn’t know anybody ate that any more” or “Ugh--- flesh!” or “Haven’t you read the latest studies that prove X+Y=current dietary fad?”
Please understand that your dietary choices are your choices, and are valid for you for all the reasons you made them. But please grant the rest of us that freedom, too. We do not need to be educated by you on the evils of what we choose to put into our bodies. The Internet will do that daily, whether we want it to or not. And, as in the case of several foodstuffs I years ago refused to give up in favor of chemically-laden, “better-for-you” substitutes, often fashion will eventually come around to our side again and scientists will fall all over themselves disproving their previous claims.
I do understand there are genuine medical conditions which require dietary restriction, and have great sympathy for that. I spent many years married to a severe hypoglycemic with other food allergies as well. I cooked some crazy things in those years! I know what can happen when you genuinely cannot tolerate, say, butter, and someone neglects to inform you there is butter in the sauce they serve, even when you asked (asthma attack in the night). In this case, perhaps it would be wisest (and kindest) to sometimes, as in the case of a barbecue, consider bringing your own special food, rather than require that everyone around you bend to your special needs. And I understand that’s a pain in the rear.
But I don’t believe you want to be known as a pain in the rear, either. So please: I beg you to stop preaching at the rest of us, making universally applicable what you believe to be true for yourself in dietary matters. For example, “Cow milk is for baby cows, not for humans!” I hear you cry. Well, the vast majority of humans have been doing very well on it for countless centuries, so I think I will keep right on enjoying my milk, cheese, cream and butter (in moderation, of course *wink*) unless my body, or my personal physician, tells me otherwise.
I, like most of you reading this, have the great privilege of living in the affluent West, where I have access to foodstuffs from across the world; where I can buy cheap and processed or expensive and organic, or somewhere in the vast array in between; where I have lots of choices, every day. I happen to be one of those in the majority who may enjoy an unrestricted (i.e., normal) diet. I am aware of my blessing, and intend to enjoy it. I am happy to accommodate your dietary needs, but please forgive me if I have a little less sympathy for your unrequired choices, and no patience with your wholesale judgement of any other choice.
“Eat, drink, and be merry; for tomorrow we die.” You may believe that your food choices entitle you to a great deal more tomorrows than mine do-- well, bully for you! If it is still a concern for you then, we can discuss the merits of these convictions on the other side. Until such a time, let’s bless each other in our various choices and allow each other to make them freely.
Well. Rant over. I think it’s time for a glass of wine (oh! Alcohol!), some crackers (grains!!) and a bit of aged cheese (milk products! She’s gonna DIE!).
Well, so are we all. It’s just possible I might enjoy the journey a bit more than some of my friends may. :D
Thursday, May 1, 2014
Freedom
"There is nothing inherently liberating in showing skin; there is nothing inherently restrictive in covering up; the liberation lies in the choice."
I read this quote regarding body acceptance on Pinterest and it brought together a number of thoughts I have had in the past, which have surfaced again lately, about forms of worship. Yes, I know it sounds random; but that is how my mind works! Have patience and I hope you will eventually see how it fits together.
As background, I've been involved in some form or other of Christian musical worship (the whole span: from classic church choir to Christian traveling drama/music troupe, to pop-rock Christian singing group, to writing and arranging my own worship songs, to participating in, forming and leading contemporary worship bands, to training worship leaders) ever since I was about 12 years old. To me, in my culture and my generation, musical worship is an integral part of what it means for me to express my faith as a Christian.
I first entered a relationship with God in the Jesus People era, which was dominated by the beginnings of the CCM music scene, and through the years I've had many personal encounters with God through worship of varying sorts (music, drama, dance). I've participated in "worship services" of many Christian stripes, from Roman Catholic and High Anglican to closed Brethren and kinky Pentecostal. I've traveled to many different nations and cultures and experienced their forms of worship. In other words, as regards this subject, I've been around the block a few times.
Recently A finished a major module in his theological studies: worship. One of the books he had to read for it amused me by its title: "Worship By The Book". We discussed the various views on what constituted a "proper worship service" by writers from across the Evangelical perspective, some of which I found very insular, indeed. And it got us to re-examine our own cultural biases and our own current context.
We've both been involved in the musical worship sector of our local church for awhile now, and I am seeing some of the same scenarios playing out as I had done over and over in my years as a leader. I suppose these issues are universal. There are various worship agendas in operation depending on which leader has the floor. There are people with a good heart but little talent, or perhaps lacking in the ability to team-play, who are willing but not very able. There are doubtless some able but not willing, for various reasons. There are a few who are far more than able: genuinely talented artists who, however, need some heart alterations before one would feel safe inflicting them upon a congregation. And there are a lot of fairly competent people muddling along as best they can as volunteers with little time for rehearsal.
One of the fellows with whom I recently sang when he led congregational worship was really excited to be asked to lead again, since he "hadn't been allowed" (his words) for some time. When he went over the song list with us before the service, he said things like "We have to keep the religious people happy" and "This isn't where I want to go in worship, but it's an Easter song, so I suppose we'll have to sing it", et cetera. When I asked how much time we had been given, he looked rather bleakly at me and said "__ (the leader of the service) is just going to interrupt me."
All of these statements gave me pause. There may be very good reasons why he hadn't been asked, though he is easily the most accomplished musician among us. A "worship service" is made of of many elements, all of which are a form of corporate worship. It is not an interruption of worship for the service to stop the music stage and continue on to the next stage. Nor is it an imposition --indeed, in my mind it is a requirement of the job-- for me as a worship leader to deliberately defer to the needs of the congregation (for example, to have a song or two related to Easter on Easter Sunday) above my own (when, for example, I am personally much more comfortable with a free-flowing, unplanned, spontaneous, "Holy-Spirit-led" session).
And this leads on to the above-mentioned quote. Here is my re-casting of it:
"There is nothing inherently liberating in dancing before the Lord; there is nothing inherently restrictive in kneeling quietly in reverence; the liberation lies in the choice."
I have noticed that those who emphasize "freedom in worship" usually have a very clear idea in their minds what they mean by that. To them, "bondage" means bowing heads in quiet prayer, sitting quietly in a seat or pew and singing hymns. They seem to equate silence, contemplation, or older forms of Christian worship with "dead religion". To these folks, "freedom" can only mean dancing! shouting! upbeat songs! the waving of flags! the blowing of shofars! laughter! holy abandon! So when they get up before the congregation (or if they are leading worship) and say things like: "I proclaim freedom in this house! Where the Spirit of the Lord is, there is freedom!" they will usually follow it up with some instruction like "So let's all shout to God with a voice of triumph!" or "Dance with all your might before the Lord!"
Well, I'm sorry, but to me this is just as religious as telling us we may NOT do these things in church. It places those members who actually would prefer to sit and revere quietly, to kneel or to lie down as their form of abandoned worship, in an awkward position. They are being given a subcultural definition of "freedom" which disallows their actual freedom to worship God as their nature would genuinely incline them to do. If by proclaiming "freedom" I really subtly mean "you must now dance or be judged as un-free", I am actually restricting the very value I espouse: that people should be able to worship God freely.
For some, freedom will mean never having dared to get up and dance when they felt like it, and now being able to do so. But for some, it will mean having the freedom to resist a subcultural norm with which they are uncomfortable, and to feel free to not participate in the "required" manner. Ideally, a genuinely "free" worship service would have people responding individually to the presence of God in whatever way is genuine for them in that moment; but doing it together, and comfortable with each others' expressions. This might mean some kneeling, some lying down in worship, some dancing, some singing… And this very form would make many people, comfortable with more structure than that, highly uncomfortable, so it's certainly not for everybody.
But if we are to insist upon such a high level of freedom, let's cover all bases, not just our personal preferences.
That said, personally my own preference is to have a plan --which I am perfectly willing to jettison should God indicate he has something else on the agenda. I speak from experience here. I have worked hours on talks I never gave, because at the last minute Dad said "Let's talk about something else." When I chose songs for a worship set, though, I prayed ahead of time about which ones to select. I rarely had to abandon them because for some odd reason they almost always fit beautifully with the rest of the service (though the preacher, service leader and I had not conferred beforehand). There are ways of being led by the Spirit that do not necessarily involve bedlam, and they are not necessarily bondage.
So, go ahead and wear your midriff-exposing T-shirt, or don't. Sing in tongues into the microphone, or don't. But don't call the one "freedom" or "liberating" and the other "uptight" or "bondage" without a little respect for where someone else may be coming from. And if your idea of freedom is to wave your flag in my face, dance upon my toes, or blow a shofar in my ear, remember:
It is to freedom that you have been called, my brothers. Only be careful that freedom does not become mere opportunity for your lower nature (including selfishness! my note). You should be free to serve each other in love. For after all, the whole Law toward others is summed up by this one command, ‘You shall love your neighbour as yourself’.
Galatians 5:13-14, J.B. Phillips
I read this quote regarding body acceptance on Pinterest and it brought together a number of thoughts I have had in the past, which have surfaced again lately, about forms of worship. Yes, I know it sounds random; but that is how my mind works! Have patience and I hope you will eventually see how it fits together.
As background, I've been involved in some form or other of Christian musical worship (the whole span: from classic church choir to Christian traveling drama/music troupe, to pop-rock Christian singing group, to writing and arranging my own worship songs, to participating in, forming and leading contemporary worship bands, to training worship leaders) ever since I was about 12 years old. To me, in my culture and my generation, musical worship is an integral part of what it means for me to express my faith as a Christian.
I first entered a relationship with God in the Jesus People era, which was dominated by the beginnings of the CCM music scene, and through the years I've had many personal encounters with God through worship of varying sorts (music, drama, dance). I've participated in "worship services" of many Christian stripes, from Roman Catholic and High Anglican to closed Brethren and kinky Pentecostal. I've traveled to many different nations and cultures and experienced their forms of worship. In other words, as regards this subject, I've been around the block a few times.
Recently A finished a major module in his theological studies: worship. One of the books he had to read for it amused me by its title: "Worship By The Book". We discussed the various views on what constituted a "proper worship service" by writers from across the Evangelical perspective, some of which I found very insular, indeed. And it got us to re-examine our own cultural biases and our own current context.
We've both been involved in the musical worship sector of our local church for awhile now, and I am seeing some of the same scenarios playing out as I had done over and over in my years as a leader. I suppose these issues are universal. There are various worship agendas in operation depending on which leader has the floor. There are people with a good heart but little talent, or perhaps lacking in the ability to team-play, who are willing but not very able. There are doubtless some able but not willing, for various reasons. There are a few who are far more than able: genuinely talented artists who, however, need some heart alterations before one would feel safe inflicting them upon a congregation. And there are a lot of fairly competent people muddling along as best they can as volunteers with little time for rehearsal.
One of the fellows with whom I recently sang when he led congregational worship was really excited to be asked to lead again, since he "hadn't been allowed" (his words) for some time. When he went over the song list with us before the service, he said things like "We have to keep the religious people happy" and "This isn't where I want to go in worship, but it's an Easter song, so I suppose we'll have to sing it", et cetera. When I asked how much time we had been given, he looked rather bleakly at me and said "__ (the leader of the service) is just going to interrupt me."
All of these statements gave me pause. There may be very good reasons why he hadn't been asked, though he is easily the most accomplished musician among us. A "worship service" is made of of many elements, all of which are a form of corporate worship. It is not an interruption of worship for the service to stop the music stage and continue on to the next stage. Nor is it an imposition --indeed, in my mind it is a requirement of the job-- for me as a worship leader to deliberately defer to the needs of the congregation (for example, to have a song or two related to Easter on Easter Sunday) above my own (when, for example, I am personally much more comfortable with a free-flowing, unplanned, spontaneous, "Holy-Spirit-led" session).
And this leads on to the above-mentioned quote. Here is my re-casting of it:
"There is nothing inherently liberating in dancing before the Lord; there is nothing inherently restrictive in kneeling quietly in reverence; the liberation lies in the choice."
I have noticed that those who emphasize "freedom in worship" usually have a very clear idea in their minds what they mean by that. To them, "bondage" means bowing heads in quiet prayer, sitting quietly in a seat or pew and singing hymns. They seem to equate silence, contemplation, or older forms of Christian worship with "dead religion". To these folks, "freedom" can only mean dancing! shouting! upbeat songs! the waving of flags! the blowing of shofars! laughter! holy abandon! So when they get up before the congregation (or if they are leading worship) and say things like: "I proclaim freedom in this house! Where the Spirit of the Lord is, there is freedom!" they will usually follow it up with some instruction like "So let's all shout to God with a voice of triumph!" or "Dance with all your might before the Lord!"
Well, I'm sorry, but to me this is just as religious as telling us we may NOT do these things in church. It places those members who actually would prefer to sit and revere quietly, to kneel or to lie down as their form of abandoned worship, in an awkward position. They are being given a subcultural definition of "freedom" which disallows their actual freedom to worship God as their nature would genuinely incline them to do. If by proclaiming "freedom" I really subtly mean "you must now dance or be judged as un-free", I am actually restricting the very value I espouse: that people should be able to worship God freely.
For some, freedom will mean never having dared to get up and dance when they felt like it, and now being able to do so. But for some, it will mean having the freedom to resist a subcultural norm with which they are uncomfortable, and to feel free to not participate in the "required" manner. Ideally, a genuinely "free" worship service would have people responding individually to the presence of God in whatever way is genuine for them in that moment; but doing it together, and comfortable with each others' expressions. This might mean some kneeling, some lying down in worship, some dancing, some singing… And this very form would make many people, comfortable with more structure than that, highly uncomfortable, so it's certainly not for everybody.
But if we are to insist upon such a high level of freedom, let's cover all bases, not just our personal preferences.
That said, personally my own preference is to have a plan --which I am perfectly willing to jettison should God indicate he has something else on the agenda. I speak from experience here. I have worked hours on talks I never gave, because at the last minute Dad said "Let's talk about something else." When I chose songs for a worship set, though, I prayed ahead of time about which ones to select. I rarely had to abandon them because for some odd reason they almost always fit beautifully with the rest of the service (though the preacher, service leader and I had not conferred beforehand). There are ways of being led by the Spirit that do not necessarily involve bedlam, and they are not necessarily bondage.
So, go ahead and wear your midriff-exposing T-shirt, or don't. Sing in tongues into the microphone, or don't. But don't call the one "freedom" or "liberating" and the other "uptight" or "bondage" without a little respect for where someone else may be coming from. And if your idea of freedom is to wave your flag in my face, dance upon my toes, or blow a shofar in my ear, remember:
It is to freedom that you have been called, my brothers. Only be careful that freedom does not become mere opportunity for your lower nature (including selfishness! my note). You should be free to serve each other in love. For after all, the whole Law toward others is summed up by this one command, ‘You shall love your neighbour as yourself’.
Galatians 5:13-14, J.B. Phillips
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