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!

Fantasy Apocalypse?

I don't think it is so much in vogue with my generation, but with my parents' generation it was all the rage.  Like avid college sports fans and their bracketing or the speculation of fantasy football addicts, so it was with that generation and the End of the World.  Don't get me wrong, it is a fascinating topic to everybody (especially environmental enthusiasts) but I think you take it a little far when you are scouring the Prophetic literature looking for clues as to the identity of the Antichrist.  There's a whole subculture of Armageddonists (none of whom agree with one another) and it's gotten so that they can't see the forest for the trees.  Just like the addled disciples of Jesus's time who were baffled that He didn't throw down Rome and free the Jewish state once and for all, so too are many in the End Times camp: they are in danger of losing their faith when events don't play out like they expect.  My favorite example was a man who thought he had found the mathematical key to unlocking the Scriptures (he even wrote a book) and that by taking the verse, 'a day is like a thousand years...' he could then interpret all the mentions of Prophetic time with a little math and a pocket calculator.

The so-called apocalyptic literature (comprising the Book of Revelation, parts of Ezekiel and Daniel, along with parts of the other Prophets and even a smattering of the Psalms, Epistles, and Gospels) is quite a fascinating read and I believe the original sci-fi/fantasy literature, what with dragons and beasts and wheels within wheels and eyes and explosions and stuff, very exciting.  The only problem is we don't know what the future stuff means, so instead we make stuff up and proclaim it as Truth even more heartily than we do the actual Gospel.  The only thing we know for certain is:

1. Jesus has promised to come back.
2. The World will blow up.

Anything beyond that and we are truly entering the realm of speculation and fantasy.  Just like the excited masses who threw palm branches at the feet of the much anticipated Messiah's donkey and shouted for joy at His coming only to cry out in anger for His blood a mere week later when He didn't show Himself to be the military conqueror they had convinced themselves to anticipate, we should take the hint and approach the subject with humility so that we too do not lose our faith.  But what is our faith in?  Him or our own theories?  That would be certainty number three: what comes of those who have heard the Word but reject it, distort it, or ignore it?

God has a bigger plan in all of this, far bigger than we mere mortals can ever contrive or imagine, just  as He did at Christ's first coming.  He didn't send His own Son to free a certain nation but rather for the sake of the whole world and every person who had been or was yet to be.  We are small minded, myopic beggars plotting out each step in a war older than creation itself and then responding with the wrath of thwarted generals when our prognostications differ from someone else's.  We need to heed the verse that says:

"For you say, I am rich, I have prospered, and I need nothing, not realizing that you are wretched, pitiable, poor, blind, and naked. I counsel you to buy from me gold refined by fire, so that you may be rich, and white garments so that you may clothe yourself and the shame of your nakedness may not be seen, and salve to anoint your eyes, so that you may see."  

That's straight out of Revelation and a far more useful exercise than plotting exactly which modern world leader just might be the Antichrist.  'He who has an ear, let him hear!'

On ideas too big for words

There are stories and then there are Stories.  You've met them: a book that you initially dislike because it's too big for you and you resent the confusion, frustration, and feeling of inferiority it inspires, but then in later years, after you've grown a bit and been humbled far more, you pick it up again and suddenly you can't put it down.  'That Hideous Strength' and 'The Man Who Was Thursday' are a couple of mine and now I can add 'The Once and Future King' to that list.  Story has always been the vehicle whereby ideas are best conveyed to an often skeptical or hostile audience; they are the common parlance of the human soul, moving beyond borders, cultures, races, languages, and even time itself.  The best of them delve into the very heart of the conundrum of what it means to be human: what is the meaning and purpose of life, what is the best way to live, how ought we to interact with others, what truly matters?  This is what makes a great book: that in its heart it contains an idea too big for words; that it addresses some kernel of truth regarding the human condition that we are forced to mull over from a radically new perspective.

Much of modern literary criticism seems to circle the drain of 'what do I think the author is saying,' wherein we put our thoughts in the author's head and thereby negate all need or use for literature at all.  Why write books or tell stories if they all mean the same thing (or nothing at all) anyway?  If not that, then we discover the most celebrated works of the day are those that pander to the political and social elite of the moment, lauding as brilliance what is unfortunately mere propaganda.  I just saw an article on the evils of reading 'Little House on the Prairie' and its unfortunate and insensitive treatment of issues which have obsessed our culture for the last month or three, certainly an excellent reason to leave off reading what long has been considered a classic.  Who then is safe?  We have seen countless leaders in art, literature, music, politics, sports and acting thrown down because they said, wrote, or did something that is now considered politically incorrect thirty years prior when everyone was doing the exact same thing.

Is that why all the modern movies are sequels, prequels, spin-offs, or remakes?  Nothing is sacred and nothing is safe, save to spew out plotless tales peopled with insipid characters that mean nothing, that is merely 'a sound and a fury.'  Perhaps Shakespeare said it best:

"She should have died hereafter;

There would have been a time for such a word. 

— To-morrow, and to-morrow, and to-morrow,

Creeps in this petty pace from day to day,

To the last syllable of recorded time;

And all our yesterdays have lighted fools

The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle!

Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player

That struts and frets his hour upon the stage

And then is heard no more. It is a tale

Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury

Signifying nothing."

~ Macbeth (Act 5, Scene 5, lines 17-28)~

Did he know he was writing about modern literary trends when he penned those immortal words?  Probably not, perhaps he was commenting upon such trends found in his own day.  For man has not changed, merely his means of telling stories.  People used to listen to their grandmother tell old tales by the fireside, now we watch movies, but man himself has not changed in the least.  Will we embrace the difficult stories, tackle the impossible books, look in the mirror of classic literature or will we take the easy road, worn deep into ruts by countless lazy feet, that leads to nowhere?

A state of practical disbelief

"Unicorns don't care if you believe in them any more than you care if they believe in you."

I ran across this quote as a kid sorting through my sister's 'Magic the Gathering' card game and thought it was kind of cool and for some strange reason it has stuck with me through the years though I have forgotten many far more important things.  Personally, I do believe in unicorns and fairies (not in a biological sense mind you, but certainly in a philosophical sense, whatever that means) but I don't believe in atheists.  Yes, you read that right, I don't believe in atheists (this is where an atheist falls down dead and can only be revived by clapping...or was that fairies?...I suppose the atheists out there would only roll their eyes at me and get on with their dull and tedious lives in which no wonder dwells).  Now don't get me wrong, I am fully aware that there are people out there who proclaim they do not believe in any superior being/force or anything supernatural but that is not an atheist, an atheist is theoretically someone who does not have a god, but that is impossible, because we, as humans, are wired to worship something be it a God, a philosophy, a cause, an ideal, a physical object, a pet, a person, or ourselves.  There are no atheists, we all worship something, the only question is what?

In the neighboring state, football is a religion.  There is a museum dedicated to Spam (the canned meat product).  There are people who 'marry' themselves.  Some choose to worship science or evolution or the cosmos instead of a Creator.  Some see saving the planet or the animals or the rainforest or whatever as their purpose for being.  We all have a religion, most of it just doesn't happen in church or mosque.  Some of us proclaim a particular creed but live an entirely different way.  The Pharisees in Jesus's day are a good example, proclaiming to be the most fervent followers of the Hebrew God yet lusting after power and wealth far more than they ever concerned themselves with what God actually wanted in a follower.  I love the example of them tithing their spices but neglecting the most basic tenets of the faith.  We all worship something, regardless of what we think or say we believe, what do we actually believe?  What do our thoughts and actions and words reveal about where our hearts truly lie?  We are none of us atheists, but are we living as we truly wish to live, and if not, what can we do to change that?