Unwitting Guest Blogger #128572

Here's an encouraging little write up on a well loved author, enjoy!

No free lunches, then or now

The Prosperity Gospel (believe it to receive it, name it to claim it, you just need more faith, Jesus died so you could have a new jet...) is the modern day variant of all those folks some two millennia before who followed Jesus around because He could conjure wine out of water and feed 5000 with a little boy's lunch.  They liked the food and the miracles and the inspirational sayings and the way He humbled those with power and money and seemed to exalt the 'common man,' the 99% of the day, little understanding that He wasn't just addressing the rich and powerful but everyone.  He insulted a large portion of his followers one day and most of them drifted away after one of His more controversial speeches and even the apostles fled in terror one dark night in a garden, leaving Him utterly alone.

The modern evangelical movement claims Jesus's death on the cross is a free gift to any who would receive it, but that isn't exactly true.  Yes, it costs nothing, but then again, it costs everything.  It isn't a door prize or an eternal life insurance policy, it's a commitment, a radical lifestyle change, a drastic change of heart.  We are 'new creations,' we must 'die to self,' we must 'hate father and mother,' we must 'lose our life' to save it, we must not be offended by the cross though we become offensive to everyone else because of it.  It isn't an easy little prayer and then you get on with your life, except now you have 'the joy, joy, joy down in your heart,' it's a life sentence of sorrow, misunderstanding, embarrassment, humility, and gentleness.  You give up everything you want, and like Jesus in the garden, you pray, 'not my will, but Thine be done.'  You lay it all on the alter, some of it you might get to take back, but some you won't.

It's crazy, it's insane, at least to human sensibilities, but for all the promised trouble and discomfort, there's far more behind the curtain, once we willingly let it be ripped away, than we can even imagine.  'His yoke is easy and His burden light.'  We're going to have trouble in this world regardless, and though completely alien to how we think the world should work or how our life should be, it is extremely comforting (and very difficult) to trust one's fate to the Author thereof.  It's free, but it isn't; it's impossible but it's easy: the great paradox of life!  So will we be stalwart soldiers confident in our Heavenly Commander through the darkest hells of this war called life or will we flee at the first sign of discomfort like reluctant picnickers before an impending shower?  I once saw a billboard advertising recruitment for the Marines, it said 'we take commitments not applications,' and I couldn't word it better!

Humble beginnings

I struggle, I really do, with all those passages in the Bible about a Heavenly Father.  It's not that I see fathers as bad in general (though mine was particularly wretched) or that I see God through a tainted lens because of my experience, rather it is that I just don't know how to relate to earthly parents, let alone a Heavenly one.  When you'd rather go hungry than ask your mother for lunch money because you are terrified of her reaction, it really isn't that easy to jump to 'ask and it will be given.'  I know in my head that it is ridiculous, but most of the time my heart and instincts are those of an abused and neglected child who doesn't belong to anyone or anywhere, who nobody wants and the only parental attention it knows is anger or fear.  Then to hear Jesus say, that we as (evil) earthly parents withhold nothing good from our own children, how much more so will God bless His children.

I used to envy the kids in foster care, at least they got their basic needs met without fear and they didn't necessarily have to feel as a kid ought towards his biological parents to those caring for them.  But there are other passages, besides those portraying a Heavenly Father.  We also see that we are spiritual orphans, lost sheep, wayward children...messed up, broken, wretched.  Now to that I can relate, and still, He would call me child, ME, who knows father and mother yet had neither, me, who hated herself for all those years because her parents wouldn't or couldn't.  Me, the nameless, the overlooked, the poor in spirit.  I get to inherit the earth?!  It's a regular fairytale, written before the foundations of the earth were laid.  Where do you think they got the idea in the first place?  I guess I'd better get used to living in a fairytale then, now where did I leave that tiara?

Psychobabble and the soul

I've written before of the futility of the self-esteem movement, how encouraging kids to feel great about themselves just because they are innately great is ridiculous.  Either they know innately it is a lie and can't force themselves to smile on the outside while they're dying on the inside or they believe the rhetoric and decide they shouldn't have to work for anything in life, never make mistakes, and sue anyone who says otherwise: neither is an ideal or intended outcome.  I came across an article somewhere during my interweb peregrinations that had a much better idea: self-compassion.  Instead of telling myself I'm great because, well, I am (anyone else remember a ridiculous movie called 'You Can Do It Duffy Moon?') instead you treat yourself as a person, like any other person, deserving of life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness, with respect and kindness and dignity.  Instead of making up reasons why you are great the way you are, you just look at yourself like you should look at everyone else: a flawed, broken but beautiful mess.  There's room for failure and abuse and mistakes and brokenness and bad hair days and losing a soccer game and not liking onions and being afraid of spiders.  You can be human and unashamed.

I struggled mightily with 'self-esteem' growing up.  I just couldn't figure out what was wrong with me.  I was an A student, never got in trouble, never talked back, had a job and was in everything (well, everything that didn't involve athletics) and excelled at it all, but I was still miserable and lonely.  Self-esteem just rang hollow.  Who cares how great of a person I supposedly am if I can't even like myself, let alone anyone else even thinking of liking me?  I had all the success a kid my age could hope to attain but it didn't help me feel better about myself, it maybe even made me feel worse. At least if I was a loser I'd have a reason to despise myself but I was left to wonder what congenital social defect estranged me from the rest of humanity.  It was 30 years later before I discovered my 'normal' childhood was a toxic wasteland riddled with emotional abuse, neglect, and manipulation.  My own parents couldn't be bothered to love me, I internalized that and turned it back on myself as self-loathing.  Self-esteem was a wet band-aide on a severed femoral artery.

Self-compassion is a skill I desperately need to learn.  It's sort of a reverse 'golden rule,' doing unto myself as I do unto others; to treat myself with all the respect, compassion, patience, gentleness, etc. that I know they deserve but have somehow never realized that I do too, merely for the sake of being human.  It's not that I'm great and wonderful and amazing simply for being me, that's a load of manure, but rather as a person I have every right to be treated as one, most especially by myself.

There's a vehicle sitting in my garage, a sensible, budget friendly, reliable vehicle, but I'm still boggled that it is there.  Our ancient sedan died a few weeks ago on a trip back to my home state and we had quite the adventure getting home (thankfully no hitchhiking was involved!) but we needed to replace the family vehicle (our other option being an even more geriatric sedan) if we ever hoped to leave town again.  So I spent a couple weeks in full-time car search mode finding the right vehicle for our family needs and budget.  We test drove a couple and found one we liked and as the price was right we wrote the check (which is apparently weird, as the salesperson kept talking about financing) but we escaped without interest.  Now it is in the garage and I feel kind of surreal about it.  I've never had a car this nice before (nice being a relative term mind you!) and it scares me.  I'm the person who buys her clothes at the thrift store but waits until they have an 'all you can fit in a bag for $1' sale.

Self-esteem would say finance the expensive and flashy sports car because you deserve it just for being you.  Self-Loathing says you shouldn't be driving anything newer than 1983, if then!  Self-compassion says your family needs a reliable vehicle that will hopefully last a very long time, you've done your homework, it is a sensible choice and it fits your budget, relax and enjoy it for once.  Yes, I am trying very hard to have fun with the idea rather than feeling guilty about it.  The ironic thing is it isn't like I stole the thing or the money with which we purchased it.  But then when you were never good enough to deserve new socks as a child, a car is a really big deal!  I'm still struggling with the whole sock thing...and now this!