The Grass Is Always Greener...

 

I think it’s our nature to sit in longing, fooling ourselves about what would actually fulfill it. We keep thinking it’s a new love interest, a new job, a change of scene, an epic travel experience, or maybe a better paying job. Or worse, a better drink, a more sensual drug… If I had more opportunities, if I had an easier time of things, if I had more money, if I had incredible sensory experiences, if I had all the sex I could possibly want, if I never experienced rejection or push-back, if our government would just do the right things, if I removed all the haters from my life, I would then be happy. We see that life could be better and sometimes that’s true. Some of us go through hell on earth, and need to seek a healthier environment. Other times we are simply blinded to the good that we have in our lives and take them for granted. But it's easy to take things for granted, because all these things don’t really fulfill. Maybe for a time. And maybe they do improve and enrich our lives. But they all fall short of satisfying that deep longing in our soul; the one that, when gone unfulfilled long enough, makes us utterly dread being alone with ourselves, makes us feel empty, makes us cry from the deepest place, makes us feel so very bone tired and essentially broken.

It was always my dream to live in different places in the world, and learn different cultures. I did that. I’m doing that. And while it does bring a richness and level of excitement to my life that I appreciate and enjoy, the longing is still there, and it’s tempting to think the next place will fill it. I found out that moving your life across the world takes a huge toll. Every new place brings huge challenges that I am never able to anticipate or plan for. I could write to you ten pages on all the little things one takes for granted that I have had to relearn every few years…

I don’t mean to belittle my life, or gain pity from people. I have no regrets. I take responsibility for my choices and the resulting consequences, good or bad. I simply wish to share some wisdom. What I thought were the answers simply aren’t, and I think those of you who envy me are to some degree fooling yourselves. I’m still the same person with the same inner challenges, and I don’t simply leave them behind when I go to new places. I still struggle with punctuality, still fail at planning, still struggle with connecting to people, still feel like a failure for not accomplishing the aforementioned, still have the same needs and still suffer the tendency to overwork myself and burn out. I still get socially exhausted and cocoon in front of the TV for too long, and forget to give my husband attention. I still miss my family and friends… and the more places I live, the more people I miss. I still dip into depression at times when I can’t deal with it all… It’s all there. I’m still me in the Middle East, still me in Europe, still me in North America.

No matter what awesome experience I have, that longing remains. I think many of us feel that way. We make it to our dreams, and we realize it wasn’t the answer. But we did it, and we are proud of ourselves, but now what? We’re doing it, and it does feel good, but why isn’t that longing going away? Maybe we had a lot of fun, but then what? Why didn’t that fix us? Why does it all feel the same? Maybe it makes us feel more special, or more important, but does it really fulfill us? Or maybe it came with a great cost we weren't prepared to make. But we don't want to think about it too deeply, and so continue to fool ourselves, moving on to the next thing that we think will fulfill us, or maybe more of the same things. Okay, so it wasn’t that relationship, good as that person was, but maybe someone else will do the trick? Okay so this experience didn’t do it, but perhaps the next one will. At least the next thing will give us something to look forward to, something to give us hope for a while, until the next thing… The grass is always greener on the other side...

At the risk of sounding preachy, the only answer I really have is Jesus. That’s it. In my deepest loneliness, when my heart is broken, there he comes, filling me like an overflowing river after the rain, with a comfort and peace that I cannot describe or explain. It’s like every part of my emotion is healed, and everything is okay. I feel it so intensely sometimes I have to cry. Maybe I still have a process to go through, but suddenly I have the strength to do it. When my marriage is hurting, there he comes, helping us to forgive each other, giving us strength to love again. When people deeply disappoint me, there Jesus is, to comfort me, to give me hope in humanity again, to help me to trust again. I have this tendency to sit in the longing, continuously forgetting that only Jesus can fill it, and worry about my choices, my failures, my lack, and wish for something or someone to fix it. But then I have hope. That’s because it doesn’t really matter what job I get, or what experiences I miss out on: I have what truly fulfills me right here, and I bring him along everywhere I go. He’s with me in the Middle East, in Europe, and in North America. He’ll be there when I go away from the people I love, and He'll be there when I’m with them. Jesus is the only true fulfillment I have in life. 

Photo by Patrick Shaun on Unsplash

Uncovering Flavor Deprivation.

When I moved to Jerusalem, and finally had a stocked kitchen, and went about cooking a proper meal the first time, I had this intense sensual experience with my food, like time itself had slowed down and flavors had new dimension. The green beans and asparagus, the purple cabbage, the giant carrots... The peppers, the tomatoes, the dates... the greens, the melons, the olives... not to mention the fruit... It was all just sensual from the moment you smelled the produce in the market, to the release of the aromas while cooking, to the eating of the food. I felt like one of those chefs in the movies, who would stand in the market and pick up the fruit just to get a giant whiff. I was a new vegan, and now I was cooking ultra healthy with vegetables in combinations that I never had before; tasting flavors I'd never tasted before. Then there were the fresh spices. I literally would stand at my counter and just smell my bottle of paprika because it was that good (in the US, to me, paprika was almost like a throwaway spice, mainly used for color, so I was amazed that it would become one of my favorite spices). I was having this awakening, so to speak. But I didn't fully understand what I was going through. I didn't really consider that every item of produce that I'd purchased simply had more intense flavor. Jerusalem produce just tastes better in general. 

I felt a sensory deprivation when I moved back home, and once again, I didn't fully understand what I was experiencing. I lamented the shopping experience: the spices and things are all packaged neatly in glass and you can't smell the freshness of it before you buy it. I also lamented the lack of fresh spices. I found a solution: to simply buy them by the seed and start grinding them. But I didn't consider that I was experiencing an entire deprivation of flavor in general, and that even the produce that was in season just wasn't as good... 

And, again, I still had hope because I thought it was just the tropical fruit... So instead of looking for mangoes, which were almost always disappointing, I would instead try peaches. Local organic Michigan fruit is a beautiful thing. But the peach harvest was destroyed by a frost when I moved back, so all the peaches were shipped in from Georgia, and the local fruit market closed because of corona. Neither of those things fully recovered before we moved away. And we couldn't afford to live on the expensive farmer's market prices. We had a few moments of intensity, but they were always short-lived. So, I didn't get to dive into the good flavors the local farms had to offer.

I simply lost the motivation to cook. I didn't fully understand why.

And here in Germany it's quite similar. Unless you're growing your own tomatoes, or buying expensive produce from a farmer's market, you are getting flavorless, lackluster fruits and vegetables, maybe with some exceptions. I never knew what I was missing out on until I lived in Israel. And I'm sure that people from tropical countries have had the same experience as me. No more juicy, mouth-watering papayas, mangoes, or citrus fruits... so you search for flavor elsewhere...

Meat and cheese have a lot of great flavor, and are the main flavor drivers in the West. I imagine people who move from tropical countries to Europe or North America give up on the produce and end up basically becoming enthusiastic carnivores in the pursuit of good flavor... The problem is, most Americans just eat really fatty, sugary, salty foods, blasted with artificial flavors. I can go to restaurants where I can't eat anything because every single item has dairy (I am lactose intolerant), or the non-dairy items are simply pitiful. Sometimes I'd rather eat a piece of cheesy pizza and suffer later, than eat a pitiful, wilting, bitter salad that's just as fattening because it's doused in oil, but leaves me hungry. No wonder so many Americans "hate" vegetables. Americans often think they're eating healthy when they simply are not, because of misinformation. Some people don't want to change their food habits because it's one of their few joys in life, but they don't realize it's actually the food they eat that is making them feel miserable... but that's another topic...  I just can't go back to that way of life, because I hate constantly feeling lethargic and depressed. I love feeling energetic, ready for life, and generally in a good mood. I still indulge, but I do it strategically and a lot less often, because I now know I would rather be bored with food and happy with life than the other way around. Still, it's somewhat of a loss.

Here in Germany, skipping over their delectable meats and cheeses, which are already next level to me, some of the best flavors are found in their breads and cakes. Germans have become masters in this area. Their flour has a different protein and gluten ratio, so their baked goods are just... different. Their sandwiches only require one slice of meat and one slice of cheese, because the bread is really the star. You hardly need condiments in your sandwiches, because fresh bread has actual moisture content and flavor. It can be dense or light, but it's always heavenly. They actually eat plain bread as a meal sometimes (which I still don't do yet). You've never had a proper giant pretzel until you've had a German pretzel. Even the cheap bread you can buy at Aldi's here is just better than anything you would get at an average bakery in the States, like Panera, for example. And the cakes... the cakes! I've never liked cake growing up. But here, they are never too sweet, never too dry, always perfectly moist, and never so heavy as to make you feel gross or sick. Everyone bakes them at home too. The teens in my youth group--yes, even the boys--can bake delectable cakes I could eat every day. And friends of mine put really interesting liqueur flavors in their cakes, which bring them to the next level. And the average bakery cakes are never dry, never too sweet... I actually like cake here.

But... the problem is, I can't live on cake and bread, and I don't want all the health problems that come with regularly eating meat and cheese, so... yes, I indulge from time-to-time, but maintaining my health means lately I just feel bored with food at home. Yesterday I acquired oranges shipped in from Israel, and they are the best oranges I've tasted in over three years... That intensity of flavor took me straight back to my first cooking experiences in Jerusalem. I was having flashbacks of the sensory experience. And now I'm realizing why I've lost my motivation to cook at home.

Jerusalem has ruined me.

I realize that sounds very depressing, but knowing this actually makes me feel hopeful. For the last few years I just thought there was something broken inside of me. I go into the kitchen and feel discouraged. I haven't been cooking like I used to. But now I know it's not just some unexplained symptom of life's challenges. I'm actually just feeling deprived. I've figured out what's discouraging me. It makes me determined to grow some of my own food, and to look for it in the right places. That gives me hope that food--even healthy food--can become a joy in my life again. 

Photo by Roxanne Desgagnés on Unsplash

Uncovering Maker's Anxiety

I’ve developed this anxiety. Naturally, if I am not making something, I am plotting how to make something--this is a part of my personality. But no matter how much I plot, lately I’m finding it more and more stressful to start the actual doing. And this stress grows stronger each year. When I finally have all the resources to do the thing, I find myself paralyzed. And if I get myself to the starting point, the process goes slow because I want it to be perfect, and I’m not willing to try new things that might lead to failure. I'm afraid of wasting my energy on useless things. This keeps me from learning or growing in this area of my life, leading me to devalue it, neglecting to see that it is so integral to my being, and directly linked to my own personal sanity. 

Lately, instead of making things, I’m going on Pinterest and watching sped-up videos of other people making things. I often laugh at the crap people think is worth making and then I come under my own judgment, unable to make anything “crappy” because I'm unwilling to spend time making crappy things in order to learn how to make good things. I do get a vicarious sense of accomplishment from watching other people make things, which keeps me going for a while. But the overall takeaway is unhealthy, because it creates a growing sense of failure, seeing other people make things perfectly and quickly the first time (which is an illusion created by editing). It also creates a false sense of how long it takes to make real things, and an impatience for the making process.

I'm realizing that my particular brand of makers anxiety has a lot to do with my lifestyle of making massive life changes that involve going overseas. But there's even more under the surface. My anxiety is also tied to the expectations I have of myself, guilt I have over not reusing literally everything, exhaustion from wasted time pursuing fruitless endeavors, and perfectionism. I'm sharing this with you all, not to gain sympathy--I've made my own choices and counted the cost--but to maybe help someone in the process. All my upheaval has forced me to tackle it head-on, when many of us don't get the same opportunities living more settled lives (I don't mean this in a condescending way: settled lives have many advantages people like me do not get). And maybe this will start good conversations that will help us makers motivate each other.

Moving overseas, I couldn’t just throw all my things in boxes, throw those boxes in a truck and store those boxes in the new place (which is what most of us do; what I used to do). I was not about to pay to ship junk across the ocean, and I had only a limited amount of luggage space and arm strength to carry my most immediate needs with me in the airport. So, I had to deliberate about every single possession and whether or not I care to suffer the cost or weight of keeping it. Not just one time, but three times. And this means every time I finally had a good set-up for making things--a proper space, proper furniture, proper tools, good lighting, and enough materials, I would only have a short time of making things before I had to get rid of literally everything and start over.

The process of getting rid of things is one thing. When you have to spend energy deliberating over whether every single item you have is worth keeping, you stop acquiring useless junk. Even then, you still somehow end up with it. Needless to say, shopping is rarely a recreational event in my life now. Even when it is, I won't get things I like without thinking a lot about where I can store it, if it would be easy to bring overseas, if it's worth keeping in the long term, or if I'm willing to only use it for a season. This also goes for my stash of art supplies. I have stopped just buying fun things that inspire creativity. I've pared things down to only buying what I am actually likely to make. But this becomes very boring and uninspiring.

The process of building up your resources in a new country is also quite painstaking. You think, “oh, I’m in a first world country, I can get whatever I need.” And that’s true, but you can’t get everything you want, or everything you’ve grown accustomed to using. And the process of finding the things that are at least comparable to what you normally use is long and arduous, and involves many hours of trying new things, of going to stores you would think have what you need, only to find that these items are found in other types of stores because this culture categorizes stuff differently. It takes a full year before learning that new categorization, and before obtaining new things no longer feels like an “event.” 

Then you have to get used to what things cost in the new place. For example, I wouldn't spend $250 on an office chair in the states, because you can get comfortable ones at Staples for $50. Or for less at a thrift store. Call me cheap, but I went the last entire year sitting in uncomfortable chairs never finding anything in my price range. When it's uncomfortable just to sit at your own desk, you avoid doing it. and then you avoid doing things you would do at a desk, and then it starts affecting your work habits... I finally bit the bullet and bought an average quality chair for 150 euros. The same goes for little things that I might get for making things, like fabrics, for example. I still haven't found a shop like SAS in Phoenix; a warehouse of gorgeous out-of-season fabrics for dirt cheap. I still haven't found a place where there are multiple fabric shops on one street filled with all kinds of interesting Middle Eastern fabrics, like Jaffa street in Jerusalem. Heck, they didn't even sell cotton thread at the "fabric superstore" in Mannheim; only polyester. I guess I'm going to find these things online, but then you lose some of your motivation which comes from seeing all the possibilities at the store... It seems petty to me to even discuss these things, but the amount of time and effort I've spent getting rid of and then re-acquiring things has added up to a sort of paralysis: what's the point of starting the process of learning a craft when by the time I get a good flow going, I'm going to have to overhaul my entire supply, space, and lifestyle? What's the point of trying to make something when I'm not even sure I can find the right supplies?

People who live here can't help fully, because they can't possibly know the differences in items, and can't explain how things here are different from my world, because they don't know my world. And that's okay. It comes with the territory.

You might say, "Susan, don't be silly, you have Amazon. Buy online!" And I do... for certain things. But there are multiple problems here which I could rant about, but it's just hard to buy online when you don't know the quality, or can't perceive details like color, size, impact, etc. 

Then there's a lot of weird feelings that are attached to stuff that we don't usually deal with.

The first time moving back home from Israel, I went through a process with the things I had stored at my in-laws house. Suddenly I'm looking at boxes of literal junk, wondering what the heck I was thinking keeping such useless things. It was also like looking at a time capsule of my life three years before seeing my habits with "things," with new eyes. Over the course of a year, I went through my things, box by box, trying to pare down even more, and uncovering all kinds of weird guilt, expectations, and attachments.

One example is my box of school papers. I had a huge box of papers from elementary to high school, that I was planning to use to make recycled paper. How cool and epic would it be to make new handmade journals from recycled paper I used in elementary school? That would be an awesome way to reduce my carbon footprint. It was the intention for keeping such things. But on the other hand, this huge box was taking up space in my mother-in-law's house, and I didn't want literal garbage to take up space and energy in my life, or in the life of my family members. So I put the box in recycling. I cried. I gave up the dream. At least it was recycled.

Then I went through my old clothes, and decided I would mine them for fabrics while trying to save money. But suddenly I was facing another paralysis: How can I cut up this shirt when there is a homeless person who could wear it? This jacket might not fit me anymore, but it might fit a kid in a shelter who is cold. The shirts just sat in a pile never being cut up because of actual guilt. When Christmas was around the corner, I forced myself to cut the shirts, and I was once again, crying, and listening to intense drum and bass to get through it. How can more literal garbage be causing me so much agony? After the traumatic cutting process, I did end up making all kinds of things from these mined fabrics: neck-warmers with cute embroidered animal faces from Dustin's old dress shirts, throw pillows for my dad's new house from my old jeans and khakis, cute little earbud cases from corduroy, and little angel ornaments from lace ribbon.

Just uncovering these things, and realizing what I'm dealing with is helping me feel motivation again. I've been through a lot with my stuff, and it's okay to feel a bit overwhelmed about it sometimes. It's good to acknowledge what I've been through, because then I can begin to see a way through it, a way to stop carrying it around in the form of anxiety and paralysis. I can remind myself that it's still worth it to make things. I can remind myself that it's vital for my mental health, for my sanity. It's good to see the two sides of being resourceful: the satisfaction of finding new use for old things, but also the potential for stacked up guilt when I fail to be resourceful. I can take the good and leave the bad. Guilt only leads to more failure. Then I've judged others too harshly, and because of that, I'm living under my own judgment when it comes to making things. I need to stop that. I need to allow mistakes. Time spent making crappy things is not wasted if it means learning to do better.

Maybe this is sparking something in you, fellow maker. Maybe you have a stack of old fabrics you have never touched because you got it from your grandma who has passed away. Maybe you have a bunch of unexplored guilt keeping you from being able to do the things that make you sane. Maybe you have unattainable goals preventing you from moving forward. Maybe you have paralysis when you want to start a project because of what you've been through with your "stuff." I'd love to hear about it, to feel like I'm not the only one. Or maybe you have strategies for motivating yourself when this happens that can help inspire us.

Photo by Malcolm Lightbody on Unsplash

Life Update: Germany during the Pandemic

Summer view of Heidelberg from a hiking trail called Philosopher's Way 

A Long-Overdue Update!

It's been 11 months since we moved to Germany, and the time has passed quickly for us. On the one hand, we've been able to experience a new culture in odd form because of the pandemic, which is special and interesting and historic in it's own way. Not many people are able to do what we've done in this situation. On the other hand, for that very reason it has been a much bigger challenge than we anticipated. Although, if there's anything I've learned in the last ten years is that life in every direction is always more challenging than we ever expect it to be...

I wouldn't have been able to function without the help of our very generous neighbors and church community. These people have treated us like family in the amount of ways they have offered us real support, from giving us rides to the grocery store, to giving us furniture, to helping us through the very paperwork-heavy visa process, and simply explaining their own culture--things they would normally take for granted. Our current neighbors helped us find our current apartment and the church community gathered to deep-clean it, and fill it with food and furniture before we even arrived. Our initial quarantine was lived with a warm place to sleep and plenty of food to eat, and even places to sit! They also donated bicycles so we could get around before we were able to purchase a vehicle. Without this community, frankly this situation would have been unlivable. Trying to move into a new apartment on our own when all the furniture and second-hand stores and restaurants are closed due to lockdown would have been very miserable and unnecessarily difficult. We simply wouldn't have come at this time. For that reason, it was been an interesting lesson in hospitality. I thought I was hospitable, until I encountered this community. Their level of hospitality has put any of my previous notions of it to shame. And I've learned to be a little more inter-dependent, which has admittedly been difficult as an individualistic North-American.

It's also difficult to explain our experience without describing the process of learning a new language. While I still do speak a lot of English (my boss speaks decent English) and most people can at least speak some English, most everything we do with other people is in German. And when we try to speak in English, for some it can take twice as long to find the right English words, and the same goes for myself, trying to find the right German words. A lot of misunderstanding tends to happen, and a lot of explanation happens over simple small things that are usually taken for granted in conversation. So I spend twice as much time listening as I do speaking, and I haven't been able to be as expressive as I normally am simply because I don't have the right words yet. And at the same time, I often feel very gosh darn proud of my progress.

All this was happening during a time when I couldn't see peoples' mouths when they spoke because they were always covered by thick N95 masks, and I had to stand at a distance so I couldn't really hear their voices, and could barely make out their words. 

Listening to a new language is a different kind of focused listening: one must listen intently to every syllable, because it is all unfamiliar, and some words are the same with only subtle variations. Some of the consonant sounds are sort of swallowed in conversation, so sometimes it's trying to figure out if I've just heard a word I know or a new word. Just visualizing the spelling of a word at first is a puzzle. Plus, you don't understand every word in a sentence, so you can only pick up what you do know. So you have to listen very intently to all the subtle sounds for anything you might understand and those are your only context clues... You find yourself pondering the length of words, weighing which word they meant, and looking up a word they said five minutes ago when the moment has passed and by now you are totally lost but aren't inclined to back-track... This quickly becomes frustrating because of corona, when those words are very muffled and at a distance. For a time, I found myself preferring online virtual meetings because at least then I could see faces and adjust the volume. And that context is still more difficult than in-person conversation to pick up cues and subtleties... The first several months were full of naps and migraine headaches and tears.

A big part of joining a new community is getting together, but this wasn't really possible when we first arrived because of Corona. This was something I didn't foresee, because I wasn't aware of how strictly Germans keep to the rules. We couldn't go out to neutral locations, i.e. restaurants, because everything was closed under lockdown. We couldn't have a house-warming or welcome party because the rule when we arrived was that only 1 individual could enter a household at a time, and there was an 8pm curfew! So that meant Dustin and I couldn't even visit others as a pair! Individuals had to stop by, we had to split up, and together we visited a few who were willing to bend the rules. I wasn't very good at keeping the curfew...

Something else we didn't know, was that when a German invites you to their house for lunch or dinner, they mean to have you there for 3-5, sometimes up to 7, hours. This was in contrast to our 2-3 hour expectation. So in the beginning, as we were trying to learn the culture, and a little more passive than usual, we found ourselves stuck in peoples' homes for hours on end, unsure of the polite way to say, "Okay, bye!" Turns out, that is the way some people do it. They simply slap their knees, and get up and say "Okay, bye! (Okay, Tchüss!)" while awkwardly heading for the door. Others are more like Americans in the way they give body language cues and give thanks and then subtly express their intention to leave. Since then we've learned that the best thing is to tell people when we intend to leave before we get there, so they aren't baking cakes for tea time later. 

The hardest thing, as I'm sure it is for many leaders around the world, has been navigating the changing corona situation with a community. One must balance individual freedom and the safety of the community in a way we haven't had to in the past. And the way Germans think about the pandemic is very different than the way Americans do, so it has been difficult for me to not feel like a fish out of water sometimes. I have stressed over the difficult decisions trying to follow government rules that go against natural human connection. When you lead in a community built on the unity, love, and the communion of Christ, it's so counter-intuitive to try to keep your distance, block your own instincts to hug people, and to live with people for months without ever seeing their real smile. Even the normal ways I have taught myself to learn names has been thwarted because I couldn't connect their whole face to their name in my mind's eye. I have to help this community fight against the temptation to see people as threats rather than as people. We have to fight fear head-on.

The thing that keeps me going is understanding that these difficulties are temporary. Corona won't last forever. And my difficulties with German will lessen as I learn the language more. In time, I will be able to really go somewhere with this community, and that is what gets me excited. Hopefully I will also take advantage of my location and explore more of Europe when it's possible. And I hope my family does the same and visits me when this pandemic subsides.

America; Two Cults...

Fear of Rejection is a Powerful Thing....

(I was listening to this song while writing this, and thought it was worth sharing)

We live in a time where people love to get outraged about issues and take up causes they know little about. And instead of taking action and doing something about real problems, we'd prefer to argue amongst ourselves about falsehoods on internet forums where real confrontation never actually happens. We'd prefer to eject our "crazy" friends and family members from our lives. We think we've improved the world by doing so. We think we've taught the world a lesson, but really, we've only made our own worlds smaller.

Politicians are our new preachers and political parties our new churches. We're getting our morals and thinking from those who by nature--and historically--have always had greedy and power-hungry underlying agendas. And we're getting our stories from people who make money by sensationalizing everything. We should know better. But we eat whatever we're served. We let the algorithms choose our meals, and now we're malnourished, fighting over scraps.  We tell ourselves we're making the world a better place by passing along this propaganda. We feel special because we think we have "the truth." 

But then we shut down real critical thinking, and refuse to accept confrontation or answer genuine questions because we've been programmed to see anyone who thinks differently as so morally depraved, they're not even people to us anymore. They're not even worth relationship. They're worse than just backsliders. We fail to see the benefit of even trying to understand their perspective, because we apparently already know what it is... We have no problem baring our teeth, and letting people feel the bite of our own festering bitterness. 

Our perception of reality is so skewed, and we have all the scriptures... er, I mean charts and articles and statistics--we've taken out of context and cherry-picked to prove our thinking is absolutely correct. One side thinks the other are all murderers and the other side thinks... the exact same thing. It's all based on moral superiority. And we feel justified. We shut down deep discourse with dismissive snap judgments and virtue-signaling because we're too good for that nonsense. We have a superiority complex. For many of us, it's all about the fear of rejection: we must appear "virtuous," and point the finger so we don't get labeled and dismissed first.

This is textbook cult-behavior. Tribalism is the word for it. I know because I used to be part of a toxic cult-like situation. Then my thinking changed and I eventually got out. I spent a lot of years processing and de-programming myself from this trauma... 

America is acting like two big cults now, left and right. It's a familiar feeling to me, when I realize a person's ideals are so important, they have become like landmines I must tiptoe around. It's a sort of crushing tension you feel when you've gotten a little too close to a subject and you can feel the bitter snap when they start to push back. You have to keep your guard up. You can't get too honest. You can't say buzzwords or they'll assume they know everything you believe. They'll stop listening. I have to fight against my own mind. I have to coach myself to stop allowing these things to dictate my choices. It's even worse because in the Midwest, these are often silent landmines. One wrong step, and you'll never know if you've lost a friend forever, because they might not even tell you. They'll just decide you're crazy and walk out of your life. Midwesterners do not like confrontation. Maybe they'll post something vague on social media, after they've blocked you, about why they feel justified rejecting you... but you'll never see it...

Surely not everyone fits into the two boxes our politicians and news media is trying to slot us into. If I exist, there are more like me... but it can be hard to keep that in mind when more of the people around me, not just the media, are doing the labeling now. The programming is working. Everyone wants me to repeat a certain script, but honestly, I don't know either side's script... And I have to fight the fear that even those closer to me might eventually slot me into their "other" categories when it becomes clear that my views don't fit their scripts... But I won't let that stop me from being me. Authenticity is important to me, and people are worth the risk.

Listen, sermons are a dime a dozen. Anyone can spout off ideologies. Anyone can repeat what their "preachers" have preached. Anyone can pass along a meme or video or article to feel better about themselves. Anyone can overgeneralize about an entire people group... But just because a person ascribes to a certain ideology, it doesn't mean they have the character to match. People can keep up appearances for a long time, especially when they're afraid of rejection. What I believe the government should or shouldn't do next doesn't tell you whether or not I'm loyal or trustworthy. So then, if you want to pick your friends solely on what you perceive their ideology is... well... hopefully you don't learn the hard way, like I did, that those things can fall flat when you go off-script; when you actually, truly need someone. 

Photo by Mister M on Unsplash

Are You Angry At God's Compassion?

Do You Have No Patience For Compassion?

I've been reading the book of Jonah lately. It's a short book in the Old Testament (OT) and probably one that people find too unbelievable. The part we focus on, because it is so fantastical, is how Jonah was swallowed by a fish big enough for him to survive in for three days. That seems unlikely. But let's look at the story.

Here we have a man who has been told by God to go to the wicked city of Nineveh and prophecy to them that their city will be overthrown because of their wickedness. Jonah knows God will relent if they repent, so he straight up says NOPE, and hops on a boat to Tarshish instead. Nineveh is somewhere in modern-day northern Syria, and Tarshish is somewhere in southern Spain. So, for perspective, he's trying to cross the entire length of the Mediterranean sea, which in his day meant heading as far away as possible, as quickly as possible. Of course, that's where a storm came and all the superstitious sailors were terrified, trying to figure out who has made their gods angry. Jonah is asleep, and when he wakes and finds out what's going on, he tells them this is all his fault because he's disobeying his god. "Throw me overboard," he says. They don't really want to, but out of sheer desperation, they throw him overboard asking forgiveness from Jonah's god as they do. We find out the storm almost immediately calms down and everyone in the boat basically become believers in Jonah's god. That's where it get's weird: Jonah is swallowed by a huge fish, decides to honor his promise to God, survives for three days, and is re-routed back to land where he is spit out by the fish, and can now go to Nineveh. That's where most people get stuck.

I'm now imagining a newly bald dude with a few scars from stomach acid burns coming out of the water and walking in the dry Middle Eastern landscape--quite miserable, not to mention the salty sea water dries the skin. But anyway, (now I'm getting stuck) he eventually makes it to Nineveh, walks to the center (It's such a huge city that it takes him three days just to walk to the center from the outside), and he starts declaring the imminent overthrow of the city. I'm sure people did not mind some crazy guy yelling in the streets... The king gets wind of this and--by a miracle--believes what Jonah is saying He. surmises that maybe if they repent, Jonah's god will have mercy on them. So, they do, and the whole city turns to God and they turn from their violence, and they aren't overthrown. Yay!

You'd think that's the end, but it's not. There's just a bit more to the story; Jonah is mad! He basically tells God, "I knew it! I knew you were a compassionate God! Just kill me now." All God says to him is, "Is it right for you to be mad?" Jonah's so upset, he sulks in the desert just outside the border, where God tries to take care of him by growing a shade plant next to him, giving him some relief. When the plant dies, Jonah launches back into a sulk, says he wants to die again like this plant, and God basically replies, "You sure it's right to be mad about this plant? And shouldn't I care about the people and animals of Nineveh more than you care about this plant?" And it just ends there. This little epilogue gave me a chuckle.

Nineveh was an enemy to Israel, and they were a brutal kind of people. They would skin their enemies, and hang the skins as a warning. Being skinned is a particular offense to the Jewish people, who value proper burial in which the body remains intact. But also, in general, it's just gruesome and horrifying and dehumanizing. You can imagine Jonah's prejudice against them. It's fairly clear he felt they didn't deserve even the chance at salvation, since he'd rather throw himself off of a boat than give them that.  But God knew the Ninevites would actually listen. God does not play favorites, and he is a very forgiving God. So he wouldn't let Jonah die like that.

I can't help but feel that many people in my own context are just like Jonah. A lot of people these days just don't have the patience for God's compassion (or any compassion) for the people they hate. It's hard to have compassion on someone you see as "the problem with this country." It's even harder to go on social media without being ticked off by someone's passed-around inflammatory post. Many of us have no problem posting our opinions on social media, completely unaware of the damage this is doing to our relationships and reputations... I can't tell you how many posts I've seen from both liberals and conservatives expressing why they feel justified in ending friendships and relationships. Both sides consider themselves to have the absolute moral high-ground, and are blind to how deep their prejudices against each other have become. And neither side has any actual clue what the other side believes. They have caricatures of the worst possible version of the other side to the point they can't possibly understand why anyone in their right mind would think that way... This is tribalism at it's finest.

But, I digress... our squabbles are mere trifles compared to the Ninevites, who were truly wicked and murderous as a culture. I suppose the closest thing we have to them is modern-day terrorists like ISIS (or ISIL), who display their violence for the world to see, and unironically hail from the same geographical region. We don't even have a grid for the barbarism they practice. But think about it: God had compassion on the Ninevites. He knew the time was right. He sent a prophet into that violent city, knowing this is exactly what would get their attention and stop their violence. And whether or not you think Jonah was actually swallowed by a fish, it's still significant because it teaches us about the character of God. He is compassionate towards violent people, and he is patient with stubborn people. No one is beyond the love of God. And this is the God we worship.

This kind of compassion is displayed all throughout the Bible, and is best exemplified in Jesus Christ. He is compassion incarnate. He never allowed himself to be caught in moral arguments, and never condemned people who were being accused of immorality. He never judged people, and always accepted them as they were. He didn't let rumors color his judgment of other people, and didn't let that stop him from interacting with the "bad" ones. Of course, he didn't condone immorality: he preached an impossibly high moral standard. But he certainly wasn't intimidated by the moral leaders who argued with him. In fact, the moralizers were the people he was most angry with: those who judged and condemned others, blind to their own self-righteous pride. 

Listen, it's easy to offer compassion to the compassionate. It's hard to extend compassion to the "idiots" who "ruin everything." If you've met Christians who don't emulate this selfless compassion, it can be easy to judge them... It's easy to think they don't really know God. But maybe they're just like you and me: people tempted into selfishness and tribalism at times in their lives. Of course, having understanding towards people doesn't mean you accept their behavior as good. But it helps us have more compassion when we understand people.

Ultimately as Christians, our compassion comes from God. When we feel like we are at the end of our limits, thankfully there is a deep well we can draw from. And, listen, if we're like Jonah, unable to accept God's compassion (or unable to be compassionate) towards others, well, God has patience with us too. He simply asks us, "Is it right for you to be mad?"

Photo by Aarón Blanco Tejedor on Unsplash

Trying to Conjure Up Faith (Part 2)

Debunking Superstitious Beliefs About Prayer (Part 2)

When I was in Israel, I worked as a coordinator for a house of prayer in Jerusalem. We had patrons from all over the world coming to our space to worship God and pray. Our main prayer room was reserved for constant musical worship and intermittent corporate prayers (somewhat like IHOP in Kansas City). My office was connected to the main prayer room by a window. I literally sat at my desk, facing that window every day, and in the three years of working there, I observed a lot.

The content of a prayer can be very revealing. Prayer is a very personal thing. When you hear peoples' prayers again and again over time, you begin to understand what their deep concerns are, what plagues them, what they struggle with, and how they approach God... 

Often times, when we talk about prayer, we discuss it in relation to faith. You will often hear people say that we need faith to pray "effective" prayers, and they can back this concept up with a slew of scriptures. So then you get all these people trying to conjure up "faith" in order to pray. I've been there. I often would try to get in the right mode, as if its some level of willpower, or inner measure of determination. We make faith into a work, as if it's something we can accomplish in the moment, or as if it's something we can gain by being more intense in our attitude. Or when a prayer is answered, we can easily determine that it's because we had enough faith when we prayed for it. Or the opposite: when it isn't answered, we blame our own lack of faith. 

The Greek word usually translated into "faith" in the New Testament simply means trust.

You wouldn't trust someone you don't know with your deepest secrets (if you're wise). And how can you trust someone who has failed you? Would you talk to someone who doesn't listen? Can you be yourself around someone who expects perfection, or constantly judges you, or looks down on you? What about someone who is disappointed in you? Would you befriend someone you know doesn't care about you? Can you show weakness to someone who expects you to prove yourself? What about someone who has abused you? Would you feel comfortable asking for something from someone who you know is withholding and distant?

None of these things describe the God of the Bible, but it's often what people subconsciously think about Him. We often project false ideas onto God; these ideas most often come from the character of our own parents or authority figures, or simply what our churches teach us. When we think these things about God, we approach him in strange ways. We often feel the need to legitimize our behavior or formalize it in some way. And when we hear about faith and the "power of prayer," we try to conjure it up as if it's something we can do apart from relationship. Maybe we even ask other people we think are better than us to pray on our behalf. The good thing is that at least this means we start with a measure of faith: we at least know He's the person to go to when we have needs. We've at least decided to believe He's real and have accepted Him as our savior. But we often have a total misconception of his character, making it difficult to trust Him further.

God is actually good. His love is actually unconditional. He's nothing like the failed human counterparts we often project onto Him. 

When you know the true character of God, prayer is simple. You can have peace and confidence in your prayers because you know the one who's listening cares even more than you do. If you know you have a father who loves you and accepts you as you are, who doesn't judge you or need you to prove anything, you don't fear approaching him. You don't fear asking him for the things you need or want. He will do anything for you. He has true wisdom. He wants to help you thrive in life. When you know that, it's easy to show your weakness to him. When you know your father loves to laugh and has a lot of grace for you, you can actually be yourself around him. And you don't have to worry about formalities or rituals because... he loves you. And this is what people take for granted: God is a person. He might not answer your every prayer because he has his own free will and he knows what's best. He is not your prayer-answering slave. But you can be confident that your prayers are compelling to Him because He loves you. 

This is faith; trusting that God actually is who He says He is. That is our foundation.

The world cannot accept that God is a living being. We seem like crazy people, talking to this "imaginary person." Our culture constantly seeks to depersonalize Him, and that thinking continuously seeps into the collective psyche of the church. But even when we have these funny ideas about his character, or our requests are wracked with all kinds of doubt, he's is still patient and gives us grace: often he answers our prayers anyway. That's just the kind of person He is. In scripture, God calls himself the Father. He calls us sons and daughters. In the Kingdom of God under the New Covenant, we aren't just citizens or servants, we are family. The Christian life is a relationship with the living God. And God is someone we can trust.

Photo by Daniel Lincoln on Unsplash