Is Suffering Good for Us?

I was in Philosophy class the other day while students were presenting their papers. One student presented Socrates' question to Euthyphro, "are things pious because the gods like them, or do the gods like them because they are pious?" In her words, are things good because God says they're good, or does he say things are good because they simply are good? I will not answer this specific question, but I will address what came up in the discussion.

She brought up the words of another philosopher (whose name I forget) who said that we as humans have no idea what good and evil is. Who are we to say that evil isn't good?

"That resonates with me because sometimes bad things happen to me, but it makes me a better person." One other student said. And everyone seemed to be in agreement with this conclusion.

In another class, a teacher of mine said that "pain is good for you." And everyone seemed to believe this as well.

But can you tell the girl who is a sex slave that her suffering is good? Can you tell the starving child that his suffering is good? Can you tell the crack addict that her suffering is good? And can you say that suffering always produces good character? I don't think so. I think pain makes us worse people. And some of us never heal from it.

In my opinion, only people who have Christ can say that suffering is good, because "Christ works all things for the good of those who love Him..." They have seen their pain bring good results (such as strength or better character) and instead of seeing God as the reason for those good results, they look at the pain or evil itself and call it good.

But I refuse to call evil good. I refuse to believe that suffering is good. I refuse to think that my suffering was necessary to make me a better person because not everyone who suffers turns out better. Others who have been through similar circumstances as me have not recovered, and have even left their faith. I credit God alone for the good results in my life. I cling to Him tightly. There are plenty in this world who have suffered and have never recovered.  They have delved deeper into drugs or alcohol. They have resorted to violence and theft. They have become renegades, searching for power. They have been driven by revenge. They have stopped trusting others... Are these things good? By no means! And can we say that evil or suffering makes us better? No. God, by His grace, makes us better. He is the only true good.

I understand that discipline is necessary to raise a child... But the spank itself is not a good thing, and the goal is to only spank as much as necessary, not to over-do it. It may be a necessary evil, but no evil is good. Evil is only sometimes necessary because human beings have a sinful nature, and sometimes punishment is required. But is it good? No. Pain may help us learn, but suffering is not good. Pain is not good. Evil is not good. And we don't always learn. Some of us circle the same mountains all our lives.

Another student in my philosophy class brought up the scenario of the thief who is stealing food for his starving family. Lets say the thief had no control over his loss of money and was strictly a victim of circumstance. The student struggled to determine whether or not this thief was justified in his actions. And so did the rest of the class. And when I said, "No. He's not justified," I seemed like a calloused jerk. But calling things what they are is important. If I were facing the man, I would not judge him, nor condemn him (I'm not speaking civil law, here, I am strictly speaking in social context). However, I will never rationalize his actions as good. Yes, it is easier to have compassion for this man because it is a good thing to provide for a family, and his determination to do so is noble. But the end never justifies the means. And my goal would be to help him so he does not have to steal in order to survive.

In no case is theft justified. What about if he stole from someone who was filthy rich and wouldn't miss what was stolen? I don't think so. Robin Hood will never be justified in stealing. Shall we grant him mercy? Perhaps. Extent understanding? Sure. Have compassion? Of course. But lets not call any of these things good based on unique circumstances. Stealing is stealing. Sin is sin. Evil is evil.

Now, having said this, I must clarify that I am not one to go looking for sin in others. I am not one to go digging it up or pointing it out. I am not one to cast judgment on people for sinning, and I often tell people, "you don't need to justify yourself to me." I am not one to even focus on the sin at all (except in the case of injustice). If you've read my blog you know that I'm always ranting about how unhealthy it is to be so focused on sin. Too many pastors make a living out of it, and too many Christians think its their duty. If I were talking to the thief, I'd tell him that he is not defined by his actions and that we should stop identifying him as a thief, but rather a man. So this discussion is not one I have with people often. And so it may sound like I'm casting judgment on a person by saying sin is sin, but I'm not. If we're going to abstract ideals and talk about them and make conclusions about them, I'm not going to rationalize things falsely.

The fact that I am stronger or more patient after the evil I've been through does not make the evil a good thing. Strength and patience are gifts from a God who has turned all that which was meant for evil into that which is good. I owe it all to Him. And I appreciate Him all the more because I can learn from my mistakes. But I refuse to say that my own mistakes were necessary. I refuse to accept that what happened to me was good. I will not thank God for the suffering, only the good that He brought about from it. Perhaps I have a wrong attitude.

Sometimes we think we've learned something, but really, we've only made conclusions that are unhealthy; conclusion such as, "I'll never trust another man." Or, "All people who drink alcohol are alcoholics and should be avoided." Or, "All leaders will cause me suffering." Or, "I am not worthy of love." These are a few of the many things I myself have had to work through. They are false beliefs that I would have kept with me had I not had the guidance of wise God-fearing people, and the reassurance of the Holy Spirit to trust again. I'm no different than the next person. Without God, I'd be fearful, alone, depressed, and angry.

With all that said, I cannot and will not say that evil is good, or that suffering makes us better. Only God is good, and only God makes us better. I will only give credit where it is due. 

I will conclude with these scriptures:

"Why do you call me good?" Jesus answered. "No one is good--except God alone." (Mark 10:18 NIV)

"And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose." (Romans 8:28 NIV)

A Response to Barnabas Piper on Race

Earlier a friend of mine posted this article on facebook:

"Why White People Don't Like To Talk About Race" by Barnabas Piper

This blog is a response to this article.

Let me first say that it's good he is trying to speak out and be a part of the conversation and is doing so with intent to bring understanding. I respect him for that. But I also find his view narrow and even misleading. He is accusing white people who don't want to talk about racism as either outright racist or subtly prejudiced. That may be so in some cases, but I beg to differ.

Let me bring some clarity to why I--and many of my friends--have not wanted to talk about racism, or why the responses have been... well, poorly informed. (Obviously my view has changed now, but I will admit, I was one of these, which is why I understand it).

The thing is, most of us were taught in school that racism is over. We were taught about the abolition and Martin Luther King Jr. And civil rights... We actually were taught to look at each other as equals. And we do. So when black people talk about racism, those in my generation who don't face it simply don't know what everyone is talking about. "Why are you talking as though we're not equals? That's racist." This is the first thought. A lot of white people think they are being accused of what their ancestors did to Africans. They think black people are just digging up the past. The knee-jerk reaction is offense because they don't think it's fair to be accused of being racist for what their ancestors did or for what other racist people are doing... because they are not racist. They don't even think of black people as any less than equals. 

But they also don't know that the system still works against black people. It is ignorance, but it's not prejudice. It is the lack of knowledge of what's going on today. Some of my friends actually don't believe there is such a thing as systemic racism. They think its existence is something to debate about.

Many in our generation suffer from willful ignorance in almost every way. They don't want to know where their food comes from, they don't want to hear about the damage we are doing to the environment, they don't want to know about the harmful chemicals in city water, they don't want to know about the ocean being depleted, they don't understand how their government works, and they know little about politics... It's not something that white people have against black people, they don't know what's going on in the world except for what they see on Facebook and the insanely biased news stories from CNN. It's the American lifestyle of willful ignorance. Racism is yet another thing ignored. (not everyone falls into this category, but a great majority do).

And those who are racist don't believe in systemic racism either. This is mostly the older generation. Take mortgages, for example. They were set up to keep certain people from getting into certain areas, which resulted in non-white races being stuck in low-income zones. White people (not all, but some) see that and think its because of a lower standard of living, or a lack of responsibility that caused it. I have older friends who honestly believe black people just have no self-respect because they see a trend in how badly run down their neighborhoods are. They have no idea that it was set up that way by white people. And so it's difficult for them to understand the problem. To them, this talk about racism sounds like a bunch of irresponsible people trying to get hand-outs from the government (in some cases that is true). And they see all those you tube videos of those women who are telling people how they got more money by having another child... It reinforces their racist thinking. Not that they are justified in their thinking. But Piper makes it seem like it comes from an inherent desire to be the only race... That's just not true. It's more complicated than that.

The rest of this blog is addressing the issue in general, not the above article...
 
Ignorance is one thing... But speaking out on a subject in ignorance is a big problem. It only adds hurt. This Ferguson case brought to light much of the feelings that black people have, and on Facebook, so many are just railing in defense. White people are getting frustrated because they don't want to be accused of something they didn't do, and they don't want to take on guilt, saying things like, "Why is it that every time a white on black crime happens, it has to be about race?" and being defensive and angry that people are making it into an issue that "isn't real". It's true that sometimes people make a mountain out of a molehill. But there is a trend. Let's look at the trend and admit that there is something deeper going on here. Let's not be flippant and defensive.

It's easy to get defensive. I said in an earlier blog that I get frustrated when my friends ask, "Is it because I'm black?" when it has nothing to do with their race... but they've had to deal with racial disadvantage, it's no wonder they suspect it.

I'm not saying white people should feel guilt and go cry and feel ashamed. I'm simply saying, lets try to understand the situation rather than spout off stuff that is hurtful and reinforces the problem. Let's change our attitude. There is a people group that feels undervalued and is hurting. Let's not think that racism is over. Let's listen to those who feel they don't have a voice.

If a bully hurt a kid, and the kid cried about it, would you feel angry at the kid for crying? Not that black people are kids and white people are bullies, but when racist acts occur against black people, and black people cry out, and people respond with offense, isn't that the same thing? That's what all this ignorant ranting feels like to my friends who are black. It is adding insult to injury. I know my white friends who are ranting aren't racist, but it can sure feel like it to my black friends.

Let's know what we're talking about. Let's admit that there is a problem and let's listen to the hurting and broken people. Let's make this world a better place.

A Question For My Friends Who Are Black

[Warning: This is a discussion about racism. Please be understanding and gracious to me and please be sensitive to others when you comment. I am going to be vulnerable here, and I honestly want feedback.]

How can I, as a white person living in America be an encouragement to my friends who are black? This is an honest question.

Sometimes I feel like I can't win; that no matter what I say, I'll just be seen as racist because I'm white. There are a lot of things I'm not allowed to say as a white person and that makes me feel like I'm walking on egg shells. Am I even allowed to say the word black? Sometimes I even avoid that description. When I bring it up around others, I'm always afraid of what might come out. And when people bring it up around me, I usually try to change the subject because more than likely I'll say something that will be taken the wrong way.

It's like when people call you crazy... any attempt to deny it makes you look crazier.

I often hear my black friends say, "Is it because I'm black?" and that insults me because it makes me think they believe I'm that shallow... I'm treating them the same as all my other friends but that one question makes me feel trapped. Is it even possible to assure someone who thinks that way that I'm not even thinking about their race? I usually think, "Don't be ridiculous! Why would I treat you any different because of your skin color? Do you really think that poorly of me?" But I remind myself that the truth is most of them have dealt with people who do treat them differently because of their skin color. It's no wonder they tend to suspect that bad things happen to them because of their race. But often I forget that. I've never been denied a job, never been kicked out of an establishment, never been unnecessarily pulled over by a cop, or been accused of crime solely because of my skin color.

I imagine it probably feels something like being a woman in vocational ministry (for lack of better terms). In most churches I've experienced, I'm not taken seriously, I'm not allowed to be a member of the board, and I would never be considered for a head pastor position, if I'm passionate I'm seen as overly emotional, and when it comes to my appearance, there's a fine line between "slut" and "lovely". I'm considered able to be in charge of "women's" ministry (which comes with a lot of stereotyping and belittling connotations) or youth or children, and that's all. But I just love people, and I love the gospel. Why should I be confined or expected to fit a certain mold? And most men think that I'm being ungrateful or B8%@#y when I talk about these things. It's because they don't have to deal with it in their own lives. Not all of them treat women that way, so for them, it doesn't really exist.

And I must admit, I've had that same attitude towards black people when they start talking about racism. I don't treat people a certain way because of race, so for me it's ridiculous to even bring it up. I tend to mirror the people I'm around, but it's not a race thing, it's a personality thing. Yes, I have been judged because of my race. Yes I've been looked at with contempt for no real reason. Yes, I've been made fun of. Yes, I've been accused of being too white. I've been put down and treated differently because of my race. But it has never affected my ability to get ahead in life, and so when others complain about the same things, I think to myself, "get over it." But that doesn't help. It only hurts. It only makes people feel like I don't actually care about what they're going through. I don't want to be that person.

I'm talking about this because I had a conversation in class yesterday about systemic racism and how a lot of the ways our economy was originally set up was to ensure that black people would be at a disadvantage. This systemic racism still exists, though not proactively as a whole. A lot of people like to act like we are way past racism, like we've already dealt with it. But there's a lot of left-over residue from the past, and it hasn't completely died. In our discussion, we asked ourselves, "Should we attempt to be a part of the conversation? And if so, what is the best way to go about it?" We discussed how difficult it is to talk about it as white Americans, and how sad and heavy it makes us feel to see the hatred and flippant dismissal of current issues (Ferguson) all over social media.

We never came up with a solid answer (though a student did suggest blogging, hence this post). And so I return to my original question: how can I as a white person be an encouragement to a black person, especially in times like these when tensions are high in many places? In what ways have I been insensitive (or in what ways are white people commonly insensitive) to the issue? Is there something I should do, or stop doing? I genuinely want to know.

Are Spiritual and Physical Health Separate Entities?

I'm always ranting about how Christians focus too much on sin: trying to overcome it, avoiding it, encouraging others to stop it, etc. So, again, I was ranting this morning to a friend of mine (I'm always unsure if people really want to hear my rants... so I try to keep them in my blog). I started talking about how my husband and I keep each other accountable in different ways, saying things like, "Are you resting?" or "How are you feeling?" and trying to take care of each others' needs, rather than asking each other about sin areas. I said to my friend, "If you're healthy, you're less likely to even want to 'sin'." and she thought for a moment and replied, "you mean, if you're spiritually healthy." I responded, "yes."

That got me thinking. When I said "healthy" I meant, spiritually, mentally, emotionally, and physically. It never occurred to me to specify "spiritually" because I don't separate these from each other. They are simply four areas of our overall health. I suppose you can separate those things in your mind. Yes, its possible to be spiritually healthy and physically unhealthy. And yes, it's also possible to be physically healthy yet spiritually dead... But in my mind, lacking health in any of the four areas means you're just not healthy.

Each aspect of health (spiritual, physical, emotional, mental) affects the other. I talk about the effects of stress quite a bit, because I feel people dismiss it too much. When you are sleep-deprived, overworked, stressed out, and tired, you literally are blocked from some ability to engage in higher brain functions. When you are in that unhealthy state, your brain focuses its attention to the impulsive, instinctual part of your brain, and leaves the frontal lobe with less function. Your intuition, moral judgment, self-discipline and self-control are all managed in the frontal lobe. The frontal lobe enables you to override impulses and base desires. When that is weakened, of course you're going to struggle more with "sinning". You've put yourself at a disadvantage.

Now, I understand there are times in which we just have to work hard, and sleep gets put on hold. I'm in that state right now. I'm not condemning anyone here. I'm simply pointing out that good physical health puts us at an emotional, spiritual, and mental advantage, and bad health puts us at a disadvantage. There is a direct correlation between our spirit, mind, and body.

When I'm tired or stressed or emotionally spent, I eat more, do less, and that which I do is of less quality. Plus I don't care about the quality so much because I'm just plain tired. I love my philosophy class, but I do not care about what Euthyphro said to Socrates when it's two in the morning and I just want to sleep. When I'm depressed, I'm not thinking about how I can be there for my loved ones, I'm thinking about how I want them to be there for me. I'm a vortex rather than a wellspring. When I'm hurting, I tend to build up walls and I'm mean to others, snappy even. After a week of constant sleep-deprivation, I start to get in this survival mode in which it's easy to prioritize tasks because I only do the things which are absolutely necessary at the moment. Laundry piles up, dishes get crusty, and I start getting sick. The mess makes it more difficult for me to focus. Then when I finally get a full night of rest, I don't have a constant headache, and I almost don't know what to do with my time. But it takes a bit to get back into the swing of things.

When I'm well-rested, I'm productive, positive, and what I do is quality. I am able to get ahead, cook delicious foods, prioritize and manage my time, get things done and enjoy doing them. I feel good about myself, and I look better. More than that, I have the capacity for self-control. I don't sit on the couch and veg-out watching TV shows because I have too much energy. I am nice and thoughtful to my husband and my friends. I find myself able to focus. And I don't gain weight so easily

There is no sin where there is no need. When we have needs, we seek them out. Without our higher brain function, we can't override base impulses. And those impulses become stronger when those needs become greater.

That is how Dustin and I keep each other accountable. We help take care of each others' needs, and we trust God to fill those spiritual needs that we can't fulfill for each other. And I feel it is really the most effective way.

I used to be that leader who would ask about all the trouble areas in a person. I have seen for myself that it simply doesn't work. Once in a while it can be therapeutic--sometimes we need to get stuff off of our chest--but week after week? There are some things you can encourage a person to do, and you can even find fulfillment in it, but it's a slow and painful process. Years of confessing sins and praying for strength... And there's always a sense of condemnation or depression, even the temptation to feel superior to someone who struggles in  an area you don't. Focusing on the failures just brings out the worst in them. Only when I began to encourage those people did I see true growth. When they believed they were a son or daughter of God, they acted like one. When they believed they were a sinner, they acted like one. And as I encouraged them, I was able to see them in a more positive light.

One encouraging word has infinitely more effectiveness than a hundred corrective words.  If someone is able to overcome sin, it's because God did it. Why should I continuously put that burden back onto the shoulders of the one from whom God removed it?

I have a huge beef with the idea of "accountability" partners. If a friend became my accountability partner and always asked me, "how are you doing in 'that' area of temptation?" (with the best of intentions) it would change the dynamic of our relationship. I would be vulnerable and open at first, but the longer I struggled with that thing, every time she asked, I would be tempted to lie, or after a while I just stopped saying anything because, gosh-darn-it, I should be over this by now. Isn't accountability supposed to help me? I'd start focusing on that area of temptation and how badly, or how well I was doing. And I'd be more likely to keep thinking about those things... And I'd associate that sin with that friend, because she was always asking about it. Then I'd stop wanting to be around her. Why have an accountability partner who is only going to remind you of your struggles? Many a deep friendship of mine has slowly disintegrated this way. That question, "How are you doing in 'that' area" carries with it the power of suggestion. What you focus on becomes your reality (I credit George Lucas for that quote from Quigon Jin in Star Wars). If I'm focused on sin, well, I'm going to struggle with it. "What a man thinks in his heart, so is he." (Proverbs 23:7) And then if I find that the sin stops becoming a struggle, I might be tempted to take credit for God's work in me and become proud of myself. I might be tempted to think I've earned something. Who needs Jesus, right?

But back to health... (see, I really am always ranting about how we focus too much on sin). Be healthy. Don't neglect your physical health (people tend to do that). It affects your mind, your emotions, and your spirit. They are not separate entities, but parts of the same. It doesn't help to separate them. You only have one body. Take care of it.

Now that I've said all of this, remember that it is Christ who does the good in us. Trust Him. We must take care of ourselves, but we are never able to do anything righteous without God Himself moving through us. Give Him your burden of sin, and stop carrying it.

Singing "Be Lifted Up," and My Post-Worship-Contemplations

Though I sang it many times last night, "be lifted up, be lifted higher," I now realize I cannot lift God up any higher than He already is.

When we think of kings on earth, we think of an authority that is ascribed to them by men. We can venerate, elevate, and even magnify the person on the throne, only because he is a human being. He was born of dust just as we were, and therefore, we can raise his status. Perhaps he was born into a royal bloodline and was already born into position: this is only possible because at some time his blood ancestors were given that right by others.

When we think of government, as the Western culture, we think of democracy. We think of our leaders as being in a position that was voted upon by men. Of perhaps we think of corporate giants having power and authority because they have money. We think of leaders as being in authority because they had some sort of quality that leadership needs, otherwise, we will seek out a better, more qualified leader. Those men can be taken out of leadership whether legally or illegally.

In any case, leadership on earth is ascribed by men. In the strictest sense, we put those people in position. And if it was possible to have authority ascribed to a person by God (a.k.a. King Saul and David), it was only because the people asked God for it. God put them in position as a response to the peoples' groaning. They wanted a king like other cultures had. Saul was killed, David was attacked, and new kings took their place.

Contemplate God's actual position--his kingship--over the universe. It is static. It is an authority not ascribed by men. He is king whether we acknowledge that fact or not. And He is at the highest point any being can be. There is none higher than Him in the physical sense, and in the figurative sense. To "lift Him higher" is to what? It is no more possible for an ant to lift me higher than I myself can stand, or even jump. Or perhaps on a flat plane a million ants together can lift me up... But that analogy breaks down because it is an attempt to understand a God that inhabits dimensions we cannot even comprehend. How can we lift up a God we cannot physically perceive? And how can we lift Him up in a spiritual sense if our essence is one with Him?

Perhaps then, I should look at it differently. Perhaps by singing, "be lifted up," I am only referring to our perception of Him; in a way saying, "let our perception of you be lifted up," or, "let your authority be more evident to us, or more important to us," or, "let us value you more." In that case, I can contend with it... But then it would be better for me to just say those things instead.

To say, "be lifted up," is misleading because it gives the impression that we ourselves can lift God to a higher position by praising Him. It implies that we have a part in giving Him authority.

And though it would not be wrong to say, "let me value you more, God," there is a danger that I might think His actual ability to work in my life depends on me, or how  much I allow Him. BUT, His authority in my personal life does not depend on how much I allow Him to have. He has authority despite me. It is better to contemplate Him in the reality of His character than to contemplate Him in relation to me. When I only do the latter, I am diminishing His value in my mind already. How? By thinking that His authority depends on my allowance of it!

I may be asking Him to help me value Him more, but I am already defeating my own purpose if I think I am in control of His authority in my own life. That is not trust/faith. It is self-reliance.

The good thing is that if I am unknowingly in that state, He can show me the way out of it.

His exercising of authority does not depend on me, but He allows me to engage in it with Him because He is loving. He allows me to have a say because He is a gentle God and wants relationship with me. He values my relationship with Him more than He values my perception of Him (though if you read the Bible, you will see that He wants to be perceived [Hosea 6:6], and is the reason why He manifested Himself in human form as Jesus on Earth). When I see Him in that light, my appreciation for Him is intensified because I know what He is capable of, and yet I know He wouldn't harm me because I know how He feels about me. That understanding makes me feel loved and appreciated and it draws me to Him. Because of His restraint, He is irresistible to me.  His power sustains all of life, and His glory is fierce and dangerous, yet in His heart is where I am safe. Because of that, I feel infinitely valued, and utterly fulfilled.

I am in a state of ecstasy when I contemplate Him in His reality as opposed to contemplating Him in relation to my abilities.

Men who have the ability to harm, yet show restraint have always been the most attractive to me and I realize now it is because that is the character of God.

The moment we think we have control over when and where He can operate, God begins to lose His appeal [in our minds]. It becomes a one-way relationship because His actions on earth now depend on us. We become the only one who initiates any interaction. Then after a while we get tired of it, bored, even. We are always the one who must make an effort to engage in the relationship. That is burdensome. God seems uninterested in us. We lose motivation and then our devotion time becomes an obligation, which sucks out all intimacy and life (the same can be applied to marriage). That's when it becomes a religion. Then we see everything in terms of what we are doing as opposed to what God is doing. "Look! I prayed out of desperation as a last resort, and God answered my prayer! Faith means taking action... I took action by saying a simple sentence." The focus is on the fact that you prayed, and not on the fact that God did something. You're now trusting the prayer you prayed--the fact that you said a prayer "that worked"--rather than actually trusting in God. In a sense, you're learning how to "manipulate God" (not that He can be manipulated).

See it for what it is: God loves you as His child and wants to give you whatever you want as long as it doesn't harm your soul. See God's grace in the event, not your effort. But now I am getting off track...

Now that I've said all of this, I must make a disclaimer: I have not said it is wrong to sing, "be lifted up." [I myself sang it wholeheartedly] I have also NOT said that people who sing this are totally misled in their thinking. I am merely pointing out the dangers of what can be perceived and how those perceptions affect us.

Let us desire to know who God is. And may He reveal that to us more fully than ever before.

Self-Imposed Misery. Stop That!

She dragged herself into class and slumped down in her chair. "Why am I so tired?" she whined.
     "Didn't get enough sleep?"
     "No. Ugh. It's work. I work forty hours a week."
     "And how many credits are you taking?"
     "Eighteen" (college students truly know how much work an 18 credit load is: it's more than a 40-hour a week job). I felt very sorry for her.
     "Whaaaat? And you're a vocal major? How...." I thought about how bad my voice sounds when I'm sleep deprived or stressed...
     "I know. And last night I just didn't go to sleep. So I guess that's my own fault."
     "Oh. Sorry. Are you trying to graduate at a certain time? Is that why you are squishing it all in?"
     "Yeah. Next Fall."
     "And you're working a forty-hour a week job? Why?"
     "Gotta pay bills."
     "I see."
     "But, I should be thankful that I have a job. It really is a blessing."

I didn't appreciate her last sentiment, though I offered empathy. I don't like it when people are thankful for dreadful situations. I get it. They are trying to have an attitude of gratitude. But all that does is allow us to accept things that shouldn't be; it keeps us from making changes for the better. There's got to be a cheaper way to live. Get rid of the phone. Sell the car. Get a job downtown. Do something to make your life better. You only have one body. Take care of it! Is your career worth your health? Mine isn't, at least not anymore. It used to be. And that's why her statement bothered me. I refuse to live that way anymore.

It's difficult for me to hear people be thankful for things that are causing them to lose their quality of life. If it is out of their control, I understand. But when it is in your power to make your life better... then make it better! Complaining is bad enough... but being thankful?! Stop enduring self-imposed misery and stop being thankful for it! Make decisions that improve your life. That is my rant for the day.

Am I Irreverent?

I love my new class "The Christian English Scholar." So far this class has had the most relevant discussion concerning Christian art that I've engaged in since I've been in college. Since the students are all upper class-men, the discussion has been very deep and opinionated, which, as my friends would know, I LOVE! Deep opinionated discussion that is intellectually stimulating, and is open to new perspectives is where I come alive.

Today, the last opinion stated bothered me. We were talking about the commercialization of Jesus (selling crosses, paintings, T-shirts, etc.) and asking the question, is this an insult to the religion. The last student pointed out that the Jews don't say the name Yahweh out of reverence for God. They have upheld that tradition for so long that they aren't even sure how it originally sounded since vowels were only added to the language later. His point was that we have lost that reverence for God and he wishes that we would have it back.

Why should that point bother me? Shouldn't I want us all to revere God? Well, yes, but not in the same way. I believe there is a reason we can now say His name, and that it is a good one. That's the beauty of what Christ did for us on the cross: he made himself accessible to all of us. He made a way for us to come back to Himself. He made it possible for each of us to have a personal relationship with Him, and thus we now know Him. That reverence has changed from a distant, law-conscious, impersonal relationship to a close, intimate, grace-conscious relationship. Jesus said, if you know me, then you know the Father. God told Moses his name because they had a personal relationship. Others only knew this name through Moses. Knowing a person closely means knowing his or her name; knowing them deeply.

Furthermore, restoring that kind of reverence highlights God's holiness without acknowledging His love. In His Word, God clearly says, He wants us to know Him more than He wants us to sacrifice, or follow the law (Hosea 6:6). I want God's people to understand His love more than anything else. That is His essence; that is who He is. God is love.

There are reasons why the scripture is not revered the way it used to be: because we have the Word inside of us, namely, Holy Spirit. We worship God, not His word. The value is in the relationship, not the formalities. Yes, I revere God. Yes, I value the scriptures. Yes, I am hurt and insulted when others insult Him. But is God actually insulted? How can He be insulted by a people who can't even love Him without His help to begin with? And if He is insulted, His love transcends it, because while we were yet sinners, Christ died for us. While we were screaming curses in Jesus' face, while He was dying in the most painful and humiliating way, while He was positioned in the most vulnerable place possible, He looked up and asked God to forgive us, "For they know not what they do," He said.

That God is accessible to each of us is a beautiful thing. Taking His name off of my lips just isn't going to happen.

Perhaps I'm irreverent. Perhaps I'm wrong. Forgive me if I am.