Eve

Last month I visited the Rodin Museum in Philadelphia while honeymooning with my new husband. For those unfamiliar with his work, Rodin is probably best known for his sculpture titled “The Thinker”. He was a very talented and famous French sculptor who has been called the father of modern sculpture. As we walked around the beautiful gardens, there were two sculptures prominently displayed on the front of the building. One of them was titled “Eve.” As I looked up at the sculpture (shown in the photo I snapped above), my brain reconciled the title and the image. I felt the weight of the artwork in front of me. Staring at this portrayal of the first woman God created broke my heart. The way the MET website describes the sculpture is: “Eve is a physical manifesto of remorse; her body twisted in suffering, her face imprisoned within a gesture of anguish.” And as I stared at her, I felt the weight that women have carried as “daughters of Eve” for all of time. I was struck by how Eve is shown as shameful and hiding, but Adam got to show his face in the opposing sculpture. Eve has been imagined for centuries as the biggest failure ever to walk the face of the earth. She is responsible for the fall of man according to many religious groups. And because a woman ate of the fruit, all women are marked forever by this momentary indiscretion. Eve ate a piece of fruit. She was hungry. She was lied to. And she believed the lie. So, she ate. Adam, by the way, was guilty of the same indiscretion in this story. But, because Eve ate first, she is held responsible. Regardless of if you believe the story of Adam and Eve is literal (btw, you can believe that some of the stories in the Bible are not literal and still love God and value the Bible!), it is important to look at how it has shaped us as a culture and society.

When I looked at that sculpture, I realized how much of my life I had lived in a similar posture. I felt like I was less in the eyes of God because I was a woman. I felt that it was my job to carry the shame and the weight and the responsibility for myself and everyone around me. And, especially, I had to carry the weight and shame of the men. To be submissive and respectful meant to allow things to happen to me that should never have happened. It meant to quiet your voice and suck it up and accept your role. It meant that you could be everything to everyone, but you couldn’t expect anything in return. It was the loneliest station. And so many women live in this station. I don’t think it is all that helpful to find somewhere to place blame for the tragedies we experience in life. Often, there is no blame to place, and that feels maddening. And even when there is, blame won’t change the outcome or alter the pain. And blame may just leave you bitter and a victim once again because you can’t live your life fully and freely in your bitterness. But, when I trace back the most damaging things I have believed about myself as a woman throughout much of my life, I think I can find a source – EVE. Now, incidentally, I’m not blaming Eve. When I say that it traces back to Eve, what I mean is that I was so heavily influenced by a religious system that believed that women were responsible for the fall and therefore more shameful and less valuable than men that I hid my face. I stepped back when I should have stepped forward. I sat still when I should have fled. I choked back words and tears when I should have let them flow. I was sorry for how imperfect I was and thought that meant that I deserved whatever I got. And somewhere deep inside myself, a voice cried out that this wasn’t okay. But I couldn’t listen to it. Because listening to it meant that I had to question the whole system. And the system was my life. And after all, who was I but a sinful woman who couldn’t trust herself? When you are so deeply intertwined in a system, it is nearly impossible to see through its walls. But something happened to me slowly. The walls of that building started to crack. At first, I tried to fill the cracks with mortar (or denial) because it was too scary to see cracks in those walls. But the cracks kept coming. And for a long time I stood inside the building and tried to explain the cracks to the people who could make the changes and fix the building. But they couldn’t see the cracks, or maybe they didn’t want to, so they just looked at each other instead and assured one another that there weren’t any cracks. But the more I saw the light stream through the cracks, the more I realized it was just a structure built by man, and I could walk out of it. There was a door! And outside of that building, there were trees and light and air! And I could run and sing and laugh. And there weren’t any rules about when I was allowed to do that or who I could be in front of when I was doing it. And I found my voice, and I uncovered my face. And I am still flawed, just like Eve. But I am also loved and accepted exactly as I am by the God who created me to thrive. I am living into my creation instead of living into “the fall.” What would the world look like if we all lived into our creation instead of living into “the fall”?

When we put the weight of Eve on women, we disgrace the image of God within them. When we put the weight of Eve on women, we pile bricks on their shoulders and tell them to jump. We expect them to keep the whole world going, and we don’t even give them the freedom to run. There are countless women today who carry the weight of Eve. Some of them live in countries where they aren’t allowed to attend school because they are girls. Some of them live in countries where they are forced to be child brides or worse. Some of them sit next to you in church and go home to "Christian" husbands who abuse them. Some of them work in your churches but aren’t allowed to speak from the front. Some of them are raising children alone and feeling ashamed for being single mothers. Maybe you are carrying the weight of Eve. I certainly still feel it creep in some days. The weight of Eve says you must be in anguish. You must be ashamed. You will never be enough. You will never get it right. You need to hide your body and your face. You will never be beautiful and lovable. You have to carry the weight of his decisions. You have to be perfect to be loved. The weight of Eve feels like chains around your ankles and a cloud over your head. But it’s a myth. A very widely believed and distributed myth, but maybe it’s one we can start to dismantle. Because even Eve should be able to show her face. God created her and loves her too. Every good parent loves their children and wants to see them thrive. 

 

Religious Trauma

 

        

            What is religious trauma? Well, I would say that this term refers to any scenario where one’s religion either causes or contributes to traumatic events in one’s life. For instance, in my job I encounter women whose religion contributed to the dynamic of their abusive relationships and/or caused them to stay in abusive situations far longer than they otherwise would have. There are plenty of other examples. Maybe your religion told you that you were inherently and hopelessly flawed, so you spent 30 years of your life hating yourself. Maybe your religion told you that if you tripped up and had sex before you were married you were like a dirty rag or a partially eaten candy bar, so you always viewed yourself that way after that one night and therefore decided you should settle for any spouse who would accept you in your dirty state. Maybe someone told you that you were going to hell because you liked boys and not girls, but you had no idea how to make yourself like girls. So, you lay awake at night as a 12-year-old terrified of burning eternally. If that’s not traumatic, I don’t know what is.

My supervisor in my internship often said that the real long-term effects of trauma don’t come from the event itself. They come from the beliefs a person forms as a result of the event. For instance, if a woman is assaulted and forms the belief that all men are dangerous and no space is safe, it is that belief that will cripple her in the long run. Religious trauma is unique because it often instills the traumatic belief on the front end. Some examples might be “You are inherently bad and dirty” or “You are supposed to be subservient to men” or “If you do anything at all wrong you are in danger of hell”. People then live their lives out of those beliefs. And the consequences can be traumatic. For people who have experienced this, it is nearly impossible to not link the pain of their life experiences to the religious teachings that led their decision-making processes. When a person goes through the healing process to recover from devastating life events, it can become nauseating to be in the same religious environment where those guiding beliefs were learned.

I think religious trauma is hard for some to understand because some people haven’t endured the type of jarring life experiences that expose flawed beliefs. If you ascribe to a set of beliefs and life goes swimmingly well, then there is not really a reason to question them. However, when you traipse through the dark wilderness of trauma and pain, you are forced to consider what led you down this path. Oftentimes people find that their religious beliefs were a major player. This is religious trauma. And then there is the more obvious form of religious trauma where churches publicly shame or even disfellowship members who step out of line with their doctrine. This has happened to too many domestic abuse victims to count. They finally got strong enough to file for divorce, and the church called them sinners and cast them away – often supporting the abuser who claimed he wanted to change or denied the abuse altogether. Human beings are created by God for community. When a person invests years of their life into a community and is banished (for whatever reason) from that community - it is traumatic.

“Tara, what are you saying? Do you hate the church?!” No, not at all. I love it. The idea behind church is beautiful. A community of people who love and support one another and build each other up like the one in Acts is amazing. Like I said, I firmly believe that we were created for community. The church has given me the beautiful gift of community at so many times in my life. But it has also given me religious trauma that makes it hard for me walk through the doors right now. Like so many things in life, the good and the bad coexist and can’t be untied. However, when it comes to church, I think that the vision Christ set out for the church is so different from where the majority of churches find themselves today. In America, we run everything like a business. Churches too. And it is a problem. There is a balancing act that occurs within church leadership to keep the money coming in (that keeps the church running) that is complex and exhausting.

The other place where we struggle is in deciding what church is supposed to look like. I don’t know how many Christian denominations there are, but there are a lot! How did we end up with so many different versions of the same religion? Well, have you ever played the game “telephone”? You sit in a circle with a lot of people. One person whispers a long message to the person next to them. Then that person whispers it to the next and so on. By the time you get to the end of the circle, the person who repeats the message usually has a very different conglomeration of words than the one who started out. It is the nature of the transmission of information. It’s not necessarily anyone’s fault (though occassionally it is malicious). Usually, they really tried. The church has had centuries of “telephone”. Peter got his say. Paul got his. Constantine, Augustine, Calvin, Luther - they all put in pieces. Over time the idea of church as a community of believers who gathered together and supported one another became an institution with a list of rules. Which community has the right list of rules? Whichever one YOU are in of course. Who can be in the community? The people who agree to follow these rules. Who made the rules????? A lot of different (mostly male) humans. You see the issue.

“But, Tara, what about the Bible? Are you saying it isn’t correct?” Okay, again, “telephone”. Do I love the Bible? Yes. Do I think it is useful and informative about the nature of God and the life of Jesus? Yes. Do I think you can take every word literally and make a perfect book of rules using it? Nope. Even if you had the original transcripts of the Bible, you would have to make assumptions as to what a writer means at times just like you have to with any writing. But with our English Bibles, they have been put through a many-tiered translation process. I’m so thankful for that process because it gave us access to the Bible. But it also means that there are certainly things that are not exactly on par with the original. And even if we were to assume that every word of our English Bibles was absolutely in line with the original transcripts (it’s not), it contradicts itself on basic factual information in several places. What am I saying? People have used literal interpretations to shame and punish people for a really long time. And they choose which ones to use. “Women are to be silent” – that one is forever! “Don’t braid your hair or wear pearls” – well obviously that’s cultural. “God hates divorce” – obviously an overarching statement for all marriages for all time! “If you look at a woman with lust you are committing adultery” – well obviously he’s exaggerating. You get the idea. It’s a double bind, and people get caught in the crossfire. And lives get damaged.  

I want to touch on something here, what do you do with the people who taught you the things that ended up hurting you? After all, they were your community. They invested in you. Well, I guess everyone’s experience and level of trauma is different. For me, I truly believe that the unhealthy messages I learned came (for the most part) from people who genuinely loved me and were doing the best they knew how to do with the limited information and experiences that they had. They were a part of the same institution and system that I was bought into. And there is so much fear instilled within those systems, that people truly believe that the only way to love someone is to build the same walls around them that they have built around themselves. So, for me, I choose to love and accept those people who unknowingly hurt me and be thankful for the positive things they gave me. I find this the most freeing and healthy way to live. I myself am certain that in my 20s I taught things to the teenage girls at my church that would make me shudder now (and I have apologized to at least one of them). We all grow and learn over time. But here’s the thing – choosing to have a loving and forgiving attitude toward the people who perhaps misled you doesn’t mean that you have to stay in that environment. YOU CAN LEAVE and still love them. YOU CAN SPEAK UP ABOUT THE HARMFUL PARTS and still love them. YOU CAN BE HONEST and still love them. YOU CAN ACKNOWLEDGE YOUR EXPERIENCE and still love them. And if they truly loved you all along, they will still love you when you go down that path and they will want to hear you out.

               Religious trauma is real, and it is heavy. It hits at the most core part of the human experience. Every aspect of life is affected by spiritual beliefs. If you have experienced it, I highly recommend therapy to help you work through it. EMDR therapy can help you reprocess the beliefs that hurt you. And if you know someone who tells you they are dealing with religious trauma the best thing you can do for them is to be safe and nonjudgmental and have open arms. Kind of like, um, Jesus.

Presence Within

 

               I had a long conversation with a friend today. It was a really meaningful conversation about a lot of things of a spiritual nature.  The things we talked about have been rolling around in my mind, and I need to sort them out. So, I’m turning to my favorite mode of processing – writing. I’ve been grappling with a lot of things of a spiritual nature for a while now. I haven’t lost my faith or felt estranged from God. On the contrary, I feel his presence closely. But I have massive issues with a lot of the ways he is portrayed to the world by well-meaning Christians. And I have been wrestling with the fact that, being a bearer of God’s image, the way I interact with the world around me matters quite a lot.

               I think this is where we often lose our way in our religious traditions. The thinking goes something like this: “I profess to love God, so I have to be perfect.” Or maybe this, “Getting my religious beliefs correct is so important that I have to dissect the Bible repeatedly until I am CERTAIN that I am doing all the right things.  Then I can tell everyone else what all the right things are and ‘hold them accountable’ to the things I have determined are right. You know, for their sake.” Or maybe it sounds like this, “Jesus died for me, so I owe him a life that is free from sin.” And in our desperation to be “Godly,” we somehow manage to make ourselves God. In our mad dash toward righteousness, we can actually lose what makes us most like Jesus, the ability to see people as whole and beautiful just as they are. And I am afraid that what happens often is that we grow up learning how to manage our images instead of how to manage our hearts.

How many times have you heard someone say or even said yourself, “He just seemed like such a nice guy” or “She always seemed like such a Godly woman,” when someone’s harmful life choices have all of a sudden been unveiled? How many people have you known or heard about that attended church faithfully, taught Sunday school, or maybe even pastored a church that lived a double life for YEARS that no one knew about? How does this happen? We learned how to manage our images instead of how to manage our hearts. When what is harped on in your church or your home is sin, and a list of what constitutes sin, and how angry sin makes God, and how people who love God don’t sin, and how you better know what is and is not a sin, and how sin will get you thrown into eternal torture (even though we also teach that grace is all-encompassing, go figure), you form expectations of yourself that are unrealistic. And when you fall short of those expectations what happens? You experience crippling shame and fear.

When you are taught from childhood by your parents, your church, or others that you are not allowed to make mistakes, guess what? You have no choice but to develop two personas. This may eventually come out in finding out the pastor has been having an affair for 10 years. Or it might come out in a diagnosable mental illness from so many years trying to live two lives – the one where you are perfect and sinless and the one where you are an actual human. Is harping on sin and perfection actually counterproductive to preventing the hurtful behaviors we are trying to prevent? I think so. Maybe the shame spiral and the lack of self-compassion that accompany these modes of religion are, in fact, a self-fulfilling prophecy of sorts that leave us miserable trying to live up to the “expectations” of the God that actually lives within us.  Maybe we behave miserably because we are miserable in our shame and imperfection. If we would only accept that we innately bear God’s image instead of trying to earn it, might we live in ways that are healthier for ourselves and everyone else around us? I say, absolutely. I have gone through my own transformation and realization of how legalistic thinking caused incomparable damage in my life. And now, I sit in therapy sessions and listen to clients talk about how much shame they feel and how they can’t forgive themselves or love themselves. These deeply ingrained beliefs about themselves came from a harsh interpretation of a good and loving God. And it just breaks my heart.

What does it mean to bear God’s image? It is not a heavy weight that one has to carry on your back. It is the thing that makes you feel so light you could fly. God’s image is not restraining. It is freeing. It is so freeing. What have we done to God’s image that we should wear it like handcuffs? Oh, that we could unravel our doctrine and look at God’s face for just one minute. Everything would change. We would never be the same.

Love Yourself

The phrase “love yourself” sounds so simple, but it is so complex for many people. When I hear that phrase these days, I can’t help but hear the voices of Justin Bieber, Demi Lovato, and Meghan Trainor in my head. What does this phrase mean, and why are pop culture icons having to tell us to do something that seems so obvious (although JB is just venting in his song)? I have been thinking a lot about this idea of having self-love and self-compassion but not being “self-absorbed” in a negative way. Where did we lose our way so badly that we cannot tell the difference?

Working as a therapist intern, clients sit in my office so often and are completely worn down. They have love and compassion for everyone in their lives except themselves. They are chronically hard on themselves. I work at a Christian non-profit, and while I have clients from all different backgrounds, I do have a large number of clients who identify as Christians. It is sad to say that Christians often struggle with self-love the most. Why? Well, being a life-long Christian myself, I can say that I think we often misconstrue the messages of self-sacrifice and grace. When you are raised on lyrics like “such a wretch as I” and acronyms like “JOY - Jesus first, others next, yourself last,” the message you might get is “I’m the worst, and I don’t really matter.” We tend to praise people who have no personal boundaries and take care of everyone except themselves as “the most selfless person I know.” And we make this the gold standard of Christianity – especially for Christian women. Where does this get us eventually? It gets us in a therapist’s office in our 40’s or 50’s (or whenever we can’t take it anymore) talking about how we feel depleted and lost and depressed – and confused to boot. This was supposed to be the abundant life. Jesus put others first, and we are supposed to do the same. Why does this abundant life feel so…dark? People end up wondering, “How did doing everything for everyone else and denying myself of my own needs lead to a mental health diagnosis and anxiety meds”? (There is no shame in either of these things BTW) Many people even remain in abusive relationships because they believe they are doing the right thing by putting the abusive person above themselves. And here’s the kicker, lots of people will praise them for this – “You are so selfless!”.

Do we ever wonder why Jesus commanded us to “love others AS we love ourselves”? He didn’t say, “love others more than you love yourself” or “love others and hate yourself.” So, is there an indication here that loving others well requires loving ourselves first? I think so. It turns out that someone who views herself as a wretch and a worm does not a wonderful spouse, mother, daughter, friend, etc. make. Pouring constantly from an empty cup typically leads to exhaustion, bitterness, and resentment. And when you have no boundaries of self-care with the people in your life, you are at best modeling unhealthy behavior and at worst enabling abusive patterns in others.

So, what am I saying? Should we be selfish? Should we always demand our way? Should we ignore the needs of those around us? No! Loving yourself does not mean neglecting others. It means assigning equal value to your life as you do to everyone else’s. Do you want to make sure your kids have healthy meals and adequate rest? You can prioritize that for yourself too. Do you want your spouse to get to enjoy fun recreational activities on the weekend because he works so hard? Great! You can prioritize that for yourself too. When a friend makes a mistake in her life and is being hard on herself, do you tell her, “It’s ok. We all make mistakes. You are still amazing, and I love you.”? You can say that to yourself too! When you look at the people in your life, do you see them as wretches or as beautiful (if imperfect) people created in the image of God? The belief that a God who created us as imperfect people cannot love us because of those imperfections is absurd to me. Loving others well comes from a place of feeling known and loved by your creator. Being compassionate with yourself, giving yourself the benefit of the doubt, trusting yourself as a competent person – these aren’t bad qualities. They are life-giving. They are healthy. Taking care of yourself isn’t selfish. It is responsible – to everyone. Protecting yourself from those who are harming you is also not selfish. It is responsible. God gave you the ability to control the actions of exactly one person. Taking steps to care for that person is wise. Jesus himself modeled self-care in the gospels. In John 6:15, he fled from the people that were going to take him by force. In Matthew 12:15, he hid from the Pharisees, who wanted to harm him. In Matthew 14:13, he withdrew to a solitary place to process his grief over John the Baptist’s death.

Loving yourself and loving others are not two concepts that are in competition. They are two concepts that should be beautifully intertwined. It is a false dichotomy to think that you have to choose one or the other. Giving to others, taking the needs of others seriously, helping the people we love – these are beautiful and vitally important parts of life. But we should all remember that God gave us this one life to care for and nourish and use. We can and should give ourselves the same love and compassion that we give to the ones we love the most. And in honoring the one life that God gave us, we honor him as well. So, in the words of Justin Bieber (used terribly out of context), "You should go and love yourself."

              

More Pandemic Thoughts

More random thoughts about this pandemic.  My brain is scattered, and this won’t be the most eloquent writing, but I wanted to jot down a few things.  Most of us are on the struggle bus to some extent.  We may be staying on the bus all day and even sleeping on it (having anxiety dreams anyone?).  We may be functioning well most of the time and taking a 15-minute ride on the struggle bus each day.  Likely, most of us find ourselves somewhere in between.  For example, on any given day with the kids, I feel like I am being a stellar mom in some moments and the worst mom ever in others (anyone else?).  It's a weird time, y'all.  I want to explore a couple of things that I think are having a psychological effect on us that we may not realize and talk about how we can do the best we can right now. 

One of the most disturbing things about this pandemic to me is that we are being told to view basically all other humans as a threat to our own well-being.  The intent in having us stay away from everyone is communal health.  I understand that.  And I even know it is necessary to an extent.  But the psychological effects are real.  When I went to Publix the other day (in my tie-dyed headband mask), it was just so strange to feel like everyone around could be a “carrier” and knowing that they felt the same about me.  I tried to smile at people with my eyes because, well, they couldn’t see my mouth.  Just the fact that we cannot see each other smile is a major loss for our emotional selves.  It is a strange world where everyone is a threat.  It is a strange world when you can’t hug your parents or take someone you love a birthday gift.  We are created with a NEED for community.  We need other people.  This is scientifically proven fact.  Without relationships and without touch, people suffer and may even die. 
With therapy clients I talk about “protective factors” – those things in life that help lead to better mental and overall health.  Especially, if one is dealing with depression or suicidal ideation, protective factors are hugely important.  But they are really important for all of us.  And here is the hard thing about right now- our protective factors are being stripped.  We need community support, relationships, intimacy, purposeful living, fulfilling work, etc.  Some of us can maintain these factors through technology, at least to an extent.  But none of us can completely.  And if you are a person who lives alone and has lost your ability to work due to this pandemic, your protective factors right now are LOW.  We have to admit that this is a hard and strange new world we are facing.

Sooooo, what do we do?  I am trying to remind myself to do a few things right now. 

           1. Be kind to yourself.  Try to find some balance between doing things that make you feel purposeful (because this is good for mental health) while also having realistic expectations and a lot of grace and self-compassion. 

           2.    Be kind to one another.  This is not the time to nitpick your family or roommates.  It will be tempting.  We are all on edge.  That tends to lead to easier frustration.  And there is just So. Much. Togetherness.  Treat everyone in your life like they are going through something hard right now.  How do you treat the people you love when they are sick, are grieving, are adjusting to a huge life transition?  Treat them that way now.  Treat them with the most care and kindness you can possibly muster.  And when you fail to do so (because you will), be quick to say, “I’m sorry”. 
    

                 3.    Get outside and exercise if at all possible.  These two things are saving my life right now.

                    4.  Show physical affection to the ones you have around you.  Hugs and cuddles are important right now.  If you are completely alone in quarantine, this won’t be an option, and I’m so sorry. 

      

                 5.  Remember that the virus is the enemy here.  It’s hard to admit that you are fighting an enemy that you have no real weapons or control to fight.  But the people at the grocery store are not the enemy.  The ones who are still having get togethers that make you angry are not the enemy.  Some people are going to go into bunkers for this thing.  Some people are going to push the limits of what is allowed.  None of them are the enemy.  The leaders who are placing stay at home orders are not the enemy.  We have a common enemy, and everyone is scrambling and trying to figure out what in the world to do about it.  Most likely no one will navigate this perfectly.  Focus on personal responsibility.  Uniting against a common enemy is the best thing we can do.  Every chance you have, show compassion and humility to others - every chance you have.  Fighting each other will do nothing to stop the pandemic and will decrease everyone’s capacity to thrive.  

                6.  Practice gratitude whenever possible.  This doesn’t mean you need to pretend this isn’t hard.  But find things to be grateful for in the hard time.  Write them down in a journal by your bed.  Tell the people you are grateful to why you are grateful to them.  Tell the people you are quarantined with why you are thankful for them (especially when you are feeling frustrated with them).

                7.  Remember that you are resilient.  You have weathered hard times before.  You can weather this one, and eventually you will be on the other side of it.  Not knowing when that will happen or what the fallout may be is one of the hardest things about this whole situation.  Use your support system liberally.  Do not abandon hope.  Hope will keep you from sinking. 

Calmly Engaged

I haven’t written in a while (other than grad school papers).  Life has been a little hectic, as it is for many right now.  But I know that writing is important for me anytime I am dealing with something stressful.  It’s a processing tool.  So, here goes.  The world is a strange place to be these days.  I started out 2020 with these grand plans of what an amazing year it was going to be.  And in many ways it has been, but I would never have imagined that 3 months in we would find ourselves facing the worst pandemic in 100 years and sequestered to our homes to ride it out.  I have gone through the gamut of feelings over the past few weeks – anxiety, sadness, gratitude, calm, fear, joy – you name it.  The first week in quarantine I was so anxious that I could barely eat.  This week I felt calm and got a little too fast and loose with my eating (“Kids, let’s make cookies again!”).  I mean, honestly, what else are we going to do after we finish school for the day?  Before this pandemic started, I felt like a had a very small margin of error in my life with everything I am juggling.  Even something like one of the kids having a sick day would put me behind.  Now my margin of error is in the negative digits.  Managing school for four kids at home, working remotely doing teletherapy with clients, and staying caught up on grad school is no small feat.  But at the same time, I am so grateful for the wonderful home that we have, the time we have had together, and the fact that we are currently healthy and have everything we need.  It is so sad that Wyatt is missing baseball season, Ty and Ansley are missing track season, Brinley may not have Kindergarten graduation, the list goes on and on.  But we are learning something about slowing down and not always being in a hurry to get somewhere, and for that I am grateful.  However, if this thing goes on for months, you may find me rocking in a corner somewhere and crying.  Haha.    

So that was a long intro, but here is what I really want to write about today.  I had a conversation with co-workers today (thank you God for Zoom!) where we talked about helping people find the space between panic and not caring.  And that concept has been on my mind all day.  I’ve been trying to decide what to call that space, and I think the best term I can come up with is “calmly engaged”.  Finding that space is a real challenge for most of us, and here is why I think that is the case.  Panic allows a person to live in the illusion that they have control over the situation.  For instance, with this pandemic, if you are panicked about catching it, you will become fanatic about making sure you don’t catch it.  You will judge all your friends who go buy groceries, but secretly buy all the toilet paper on amazon.  You will believe that no person is safe.  Every person that walks down your street is a threat.  You will believe you can’t touch anything.  You will watch the news around the clock so that you can have every last piece of information so that you can STAY IN CONTROL.  Panic is to some extent a function of the ego and a way to delude oneself into believing that you have more power than you actually have. 

On the other extreme, you have not caring.  What happens with not caring is you convince yourself that you have no control, so you give up.  What this looks like in this pandemic is a person refusing to make smart choices to protect self and others.  It looks like coughing on your roommate or having the whole neighborhood over for a bonfire.  It looks like pretending nothing is happening and everyone who cares is ridiculous.  Not caring is a form of defeat.  Instead of allowing yourself to feel any anxiety, you withdraw from responsibility.  One common defense of this attitude is “God is in control.  There is nothing I can do.  He has already decided what will happen to me.”  And so, you ignore science and data and the people who are begging you to be smart.  Because, well, you just don’t care. 

Being calmly engaged in the middle of these two extremes is difficult, and here is why.  When you are calmly engaged you have to admit two things: I am personally responsible for the decisions I make, AND I ultimately don’t control outcomes.  This is a hard place to live because here you have to be diligent and smart and remain engaged and CARE, but you have no guarantees that any of your efforts are going to pay off in the end.  It is the ultimate gamble.  And yet, this is where healthy people live.  Responsibility meets trusting in something bigger.  Fear can live here, and the calmly engaged person can talk about that fear and move through it.  This is a scary place to be – personally responsible with relatively little control.  But as it relates to this pandemic, and as it relates to life in general, this is where we need to be.  This is where we can breathe.  This is where we are the best neighbors and friends and family members.  This is where we thrive.  This is where societies take care of their people.  The ego quiets down.  The best self steps forward.  This looks like loving well.  And it looks like holding space for when things don’t go the way you planned.  This is an open-hearted way of living that both accepts that you really matter in the grand scheme of things and that you are also small in the grand scheme of things.  Here you rely on God to be ultimately in control, while you do the absolute best you can with what he has given you.  This is being calmly engaged. 

So, as we move through this strange period that is unlike anything we have ever experienced or would have seen coming, remaining calmly engaged is key.  Anxiety is bound to come.  Hard times are here for a lot of people.  None of this is easy.  So, when you feel panic setting in or you feel yourself losing the ability to care anymore, reach out to someone.  Having healthy and loving relationships helps us remain calmly engaged.  We have an opportunity in this mess to love people better than we ever have before.  We have the chance to think about what is important to us and who is important to us.  We can pull one another back to the center when we feel like we are slipping into the extremes.  We can get through this together.  And when we finally get to have cookouts and bonfires and birthday parties and ballgames and playdates and church and school again, we will all be so grateful for the everyday things in our lives that we have so dearly missed.  

              

There's Something About a Baby

Four times.  Four precious times in this life, I have screamed and cried and experienced the last grueling moments of pregnancy.  And then a nurse or doctor has placed a brand-new baby onto my chest, and I have felt a love like no other.  Four times I have stared at this tiny new creation and felt the immense responsibility of caring for and guiding this child.  And everything was changed forever.  There’s something about a baby that changes things.  A difficult day is made brighter by the smile on a baby’s face.  The smell of a baby’s hair can calm an anxious heart.  When we welcome a baby into the world, there is great celebration.  Something new is afoot.  There is possibility and hope.  When we watch someone die, we feel the sense of release and completion of their journey.  When we watch someone be born, we feel the sense of excitement and anticipation of what is to come in their life.  They have zero mistakes, zero heartbreaks.  No one has told them that they have limits.  There is a concept called “tabula rasa,” a belief that a baby is born with a “blank slate” and that everything about that person is determined by events after birth.  I don’t completely buy into this psychological theory.  I think that babies are born with plenty of predetermined characteristics.  Just ask any parent of multiple children.  But certainly, a large part of who a child will become will be connected to their experiences. 

An unhealthy parent will look at this tiny new creation and make a (usually unconscious) decision to mold it into his or her own image.  This tiny baby that God created in his image with unique gifts and talents and personality and purpose will be required to grow into the image of his earthly parents, to think like they think, talk like they talk, vote like they vote, you get the idea.  Unhealthy parents seek personal validation from their children instead of seeking to support them as they grow into their own unique selves.  Healthy parents support and guide their children as they become who God created them to be. 

This week we will celebrate the birth of a baby.  This baby’s birth brought forth the ultimate hope.  This baby came with great excitement.  This baby’s name was Jesus.  And this Christmas as I look down into the manger and stare at this baby, this new creation full of possibility, I have one question for him.  “Who are you?”  You see, I fear that we have grown this baby up into our own image.  We don’t look at the baby and see the new beginning and the possibility so much as we look at the adult version of Jesus we have created or embraced.  And I’m afraid that we have some things wrong about him.  At least I have had. 

You don’t go through a life crisis like I have experienced the past couple of years without tearing down some things and rebuilding them.  You gain perspective and experience that make you see blind spots you had before.  You pay a painful price to get there.  And it’s hard in the middle of your life to rework major things about your belief system.  But this year I’m starting with the baby.  I’m looking at the baby, and I’m rebuilding my ideas of who he is to become.  You see, in America, we seem to have created a Jesus that is white, Christian, republican, waves an American flag and carries a pistol.  But the problem with that is that Jesus was actually a Jewish, middle eastern man who rebelled against the Roman empire and non-violently laid down his life on a cross.  I fear that what large segments of the American church have done to baby Jesus is to form him in our own image.  That is not healthy behavior.  We could start to understand Jesus better by learning about Jewish faith and Jewish culture.  He was a real person living in a real time period.  We would be wise to take that into account.  

Another image we portray of Jesus is one of the holy vending machine.  Allow me to explain.  We tell people that if they pray hard enough, have enough faith, live righteously enough - that Jesus will give them whatever they want.  The only problem with this is that if that were true, no devout father would ever bury his child, no devout woman would watch her marriage implode, no devout child in a third world country would die of starvation today or drown trying to get to a safer place.  You see when we try to sell the vending machine Jesus, we say to those who didn’t get what they wanted, “It’s not Jesus, it’s you.”  And in the most painful moments of life, when you feel like you are in quicksand, being told to pray harder or live better feels like someone pouring more sand over your head and tying your arms behind your back.  To support these “pep talks,” we use the verse in Matthew 22, “And whatever you ask in prayer, you will receive, if you have faith.”  But we don’t talk about the fact that Jesus said this right after cursing a fig tree because he was angry that it had no figs for him to eat.  I think this is one of the moments in scripture where we really see his humanity.  His disciples are so impressed that he can wither a fig tree on command for disappointing him, and he tells them that they too can do miracles like this if they have faith.  Does this also mean that we can have whatever we want in this life if we just believe it will happen?  Some may question my faith, but I don’t think that’s how Jesus works.

One more image I have had of Jesus at various times in my life is that of a pious and judgmental Jesus.  Maybe you have seen an image of Jesus pointing his finger at you and asking you a guilt-inducing question.  Maybe you have read a passage where he addresses sinful behavior, and you wanted to crawl under a rock because you know that one all too well.  But looking down in this manger today, I just ask anew, “Who is this King of glory?”  Who is this God that in all his holiness, in all his splendor, instead of expecting us to ascend to his level – chose to descend to ours?  What kind of God steps down from heaven and lays in a manger surrounded  by the stench of manure?  What kind of God takes on a human body with all its aches and pains and submits to living inside it?  What kind of God becomes one of us?

When my oldest child was one year old, he came down with a bad case of croup.  After his going from fairly healthy to barely able to breathe and a temp of 103 in a matter of a few hours, we were sent to the hospital.  We spent the night in the ER that night with him.  No rooms were available in the hospital.  So, they rolled in a crib for him to sleep in.  And I remember that he needed so badly to lay down and sleep, but he wanted his mommy.  So, I did what most mothers would do.  I climbed over the side of that crib, curled my body around his, and stayed with him.  And when I think back to that night, I think it is a tiny glimpse of what God did and continues to do for us.  He came down.  He climbed into the manger.  He met us in our illness, in our despair, in our inadequacy.  He met us in our pain.  He had it all.  And he stepped down into our misery because he loves us.  And he still curls around us in our pain.  Emmanuel, God with us.  He laid his hands on people and healed them.  He wept with Mary.  He walked on water with Peter.  He hung out with Zacchaeus.  He defended the woman the people wanted to stone.  No one was off-limits for him.  He embraced people from every walk of life.  No crib was too dirty to crawl into.  In Luke 4, he told the people in his hometown why he came:

“The Spirit of the Lord is upon me,
  because he has anointed me
    to proclaim good news to the poor.
He has sent me to proclaim liberty to the captives
    and recovering of sight to the blind,
to set at liberty those who are oppressed,

to proclaim the year of the Lord's favor.”

            Has there ever been such a beautiful mission?  That baby in the manger would grow into a man that wanted to right the wrongs in the world.  He had brought a kingdom to earth that would change everything.  So, as I look at him today and ask him “Who are you?”, I trust that this year he’s going to continue to tell me.  I’m starting with the baby.  Because there is something about a baby.  God could have come as a full-grown human, but he came as a baby - full of hope, full of possibility.  I am throwing out my preconceived notions of who he will become and asking him who he truly is.  Because much more beautiful than my making him into my image is my being formed into his.