Seeing Blind Spots

For a little over a year now, I feel like the scales have gradually been falling away from my eyes, revealing particular injustices around me. Not that I've had any illusions that the world is fair, or that injustice happens on the grand scale, but that I'd failed to see its systematic presence in my own little sphere, in my community.

I grew up with certain narratives that explained how the world works. I initially thought adolescence was the classic stage for testing those narratives to determine their truth. But instead, I found adolescence was only the beginning of figuring out who I am. Adulthood seems to be the actual, lifelong stage for figuring out this crazy, complicated world.

Evidenced by the fact that I'm still overturning my own preconceptions in my late 30's - and now realize it won't be the last time I have to change my mind about something important, trading my assumptions for the truth (part of what the church calls "sanctification").

I think of these moments as tectonic shifts, mental earthquakes, because at first I resist the change. God has to present the same "new" idea to me from many angles and sources until I finally dive in to research it more fully (usually a 6-9 month process that requires an open mind and primary sources from each perspective -- not one source telling me what all the others say). When eventually the evidence tilts overwhelmingly in one direction...and I've had time to process it...I'll start to make the mental leap. It is scary and exciting, and followed by after-shocks as I discover all the ripple effects of the new-to-me landscape. Over time (years), this new aspect of my worldview settles in, even as it continues to be refined and incorporated. Ultimately, it is always liberating, because I land on far safer/stronger ground than I began (John 8:32).

This process seems particularly important for those of us who grew up as an American protestant in the late 20th century. Folks like James Dobson, John MacArthur, and the Christian Coalition appeared to assemble a long list of beliefs about the world that constituted what it meant to be a true Christian. Compared to the creeds of past generations which could be stated in a few lines (the Nicene Creed or Apostles Creed - even the Westminster Confession is relatively short), this list was extensive, including support for the death penalty, opposition to gun control, support for states' rights, criticism of welfare, glorification of the American dream, anti-affirmative action, disbelief in global warming, and enumerating exactly how the world began (ala Ken Ham) and will end (Left Behind). It was the Republican party platform of the 1980s-1990s plus some.

Which is not to say they were wrong about everything - just that they were certain about far too much. Where the Bible offers so much room for mystery and paradox and disagreement, this worldview I absorbed was black. and. white. I arrived at college honestly trying to find a democrat who was a Christian so I could figure out how those two identities could possibly fit together (which to be clear, seems absurd to me now).  

In hindsight, it is not surprising that this certainty about everything (modernism) gave birth to a generation that was uncertain about everything (post-modernism). Once you discover that one plank in your platform is not the whole truth, you wind up doubting all the planks.

And that brings us back to my own little walk of faith and all its earthquakes. Adulthood has been a process of testing plank after plank against special and general revelation (again, sanctification), confirming some, discarding others. I've alluded to a few of them briefly on this blog, from confirming the logic of Christianity to realizing the world is not getting worse to embracing the scientific community and confirming again and again that the Bible is trustworthy...

...To this year, discovering the pride and injustice in my own heart. This latest journey began when I read Americanah by Chimamanda Adichie over a year ago. Adichie's winsome novel was like a trojan horse, attacking my latent preconceptions unawares. Her two main characters are an educated Nigerian woman and man who immigrate to the US and UK (respectively) and then return to Nigeria. These international transitions allow us to "experience" (vicariously) how race, ethnicity, and culture impact the main characters and how their views of both countries shift over time. Their experiences were eye-opening for me. They brought to light errors in "conventional wisdom" that I hadn't really examined, but which have since been pummeled by many articles like this one, statistics, this podcast, a friend's perspective, and most recently the discussion around Ferguson, MO, including:

Commentary on #Ferguson by Ben Watson

Why Ferguson Must Lead to Change

#Ferguson: A Gospel Issue
When Whites Just Don't Get It

How could I have thought that racism had been overcome? Or that the struggles facing modern African Americans were not the result of centuries of the worst kind of oppression and abuse? How did I not see the evil of stereotypes -- or the evil of the pride that takes credit for privilege?

It seems so obvious to me now that I have not earned the benefit of the doubt when I interact with strangers so much as I have been given it by my lucky demographics. I haven't earned my financial security so much as I was graced with a generous environment that cultivated that security. The list goes on - probably even further than I have yet discovered.

And that, really, is the point. Being willing to discover. To re-examine assumptions, to consider other viewpoints, to change my mind. Because the only thing scarier than replacing old assumptions with the truth is never examining the old assumptions at all.

How Much Does Parenting Matter?

(Note: I wrote this in Feb 2014 but I'm just now getting around to publishing it...19mo later)

At least once a week, I see another piece in the media regarding the age-old question: How much does parenting affect children?

As a parent, of course I'm interested in the answer. In such a free, peaceful society, we parents have tons of choices to make for our kids, especially:

A. How many kids should we have?
B. What should we do with our kids?
C. What should they see us doing?

(Note: In general, this conversation seems to center around comfortable, American, two-parent homes. Though some of the arguments below apply to variations on that theme, some do not.)

In my experience, the two camps on either end of the debate are:

CAMP #1: A TON.
These folks put their faith in nurture, and lots of it. The most famous members of this camp include those who...

A. Blame all of our problems on our parents (all therapy eventually leads back to mom or dad -- some of it well deserved, see #4 below), or  

B. Are Helicopter Parents (hovering over their children, micromanaging their lives to protect them and promote them).

These folks cite research that shows how every little thing could have an incremental impact on their child. It can be comforting to think there's a formula to guarantee your child will "succeed," but it can also be totally stressful, because now that means there's only one right answer to every choice AND you're responsible for their choices. I see this over-analysis applied to everything from what kind of milk people drink to what kind of preschool they choose (for an amusing example, check out Nursery University).

The blind spot here seems to be the research on how parental stress affects kids. Plus the opportunity cost; to what degree is it worth spending your time making food from scratch vs. spending that time building your relationship with your kids? And now the actual outcomes: Are the kids better adults? This article argues they are not.

CAMP #2: NONE.
Well, not "none," but "less" doesn't rhyme. Here, it's all about nature (genes, not trees). Again I see two categories of folks:

C. Naturalists who criticize the plethora of parenting books/philosophies and eschew ALL of them with confidence that parenting is "common sense" so there's no point learning, researching, or reading about it. (Except they can usually name several friends who aren't doing it well.)

D. Laissez Faire Parents who figure so long as the kids are fed, clothed, and schooled, they've done their job.

These folks cite research showing that kids usually end up like their parents, so they jump to the conclusion, Why bother trying to engineer something different? or It worked for me, didn't it? 

CAMP #1.5: SOME.
As in so many areas, I believe the truth lies somewhere between the two camps. The difficulty is in trying to figure out how it all fits together. What should I worry about, what does make a difference, and what can I ignore?

Here's where I am right now: We matter, but maybe more or less than we think, depending where we started. Profound, eh? But to be more specific, here's what I've gleaned from my reading so far (with a few measly citations because I don't have time to go back and find them all):

1. Who we are matters more than what we try to do for our kids. (ex. The fact that I'm a big reader is more likely to make my boys big readers than just me reading to them or buying them books - not that those are bad things, just less impactful.)
2. Our parenting has a relatively small impact on our kids' educational and monetary achievement in life (whereas our own educational/monetary achievement has a bigger impact, see #1). See also this podcast or read this article to scan the tip of this iceberg. 
3. The areas where we have the greatest measurable impact? Drinking, smoking, how we treat others, and worldview (i.e. religion here and here, and security). Ex #1: If the parents drink socially, the kids are more likely to drink (they're also more likely to become alcoholics than if their parents abstained). Ex #2: If you're rude to servers, so will they be. Ex. #3: If you're a hypocrite, they're less likely to stick with your religion (see #1 again).
4. Love matters. A lot. There's plenty of data showing that cruelty, abandonment, or a lack of love -- whether through permissiveness, abuse, or neglect -- does terrible damage to a person's psyche. Dan Allender says all kids are asking their parents two questions: "Do you love me? and Can I do whatever I want?" If the answers are "yes" and then "no," you're on the right track.

Ultimately, I find most of this research encouraging - and a remarkably good fit with what I see in the Bible. As parents, we do make a difference in the lives of our kids, but not so much through all the tiny decisions about what kind of ____ to buy them or which summer camp to choose. We make the biggest differences in their lives by being the kind of people we want them to become (in my case, dependent on the grace of God), loving them well (including setting limits), and then letting them explore, fail, and become their own people through their own choices - and consequences.

If nothing else, my reading has confirmed in my own mind that good parenting does not mean agonizing over little things like whether to eat organic or whether to enroll them in karate. It should have less guilt and more perspective than that. On the other hand, decisions that build our relationship or their character are valuable endeavors. I'll let you know if I still agree with myself in about 25 years...

Denial

I was just listening to Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire and had an epiphany.

At the end of the book, a group of good guys are gathered to tell the head of government, Fudge, that the great villain has returned. They have all kinds of evidence which explains all kinds of weirdness that has been going on throughout the year. The villain's return makes sense of it all. And it should have a swift and dramatic impact on how the government moves forward. The path should be clear to go on the offense and defense at once to minimize the villain's destructiveness.

The head of government has always seemed a kindly gentlemen with some minor flaws. He means well. He's not actively serving the villain. He's just a little naive and prejudiced. No big deal.

Until he refuses to believe the evidence. He cannot admit the possibility that the villain has returned. His world is tidy and stable. No room for evil's resurgence.

It is infuriating to hear his reaction and know the dire consequences of ignoring--refusing to believe in--evil.

That's when the lightbulb turned on over my head.

I'm Fudge. I live in such a neat and tidy world that I have a hard time believing that evil is active and worthy of punishment (see "Erasing Hell" for more on this).

My reason returned, we did take cover, and the storm
respected my need for sleep by not tearing off our roof.
N: "At least my Lego men are safe. I could bring the Death Star,
cause that has the most people in it."
I'm not the only one in our family with magical thinking...

A couple weeks ago, a storm blew through our town around 3am. We had gone to bed late and had to get up early. I couldn't really afford to be up in the middle of the night, so my first momentary reaction was that the storm would not hurt us. Because I wasn't prepared for it to affect us. It's the kind of magical thinking that Joan Didion describes so well. The next second I realized this is ridiculous. The storm doesn't care if I'm prepared or not. But some part of my brain took a second to accept that fact. The brain repels facts it doesn't want to believe.

But they're still facts. And refusing to believe them doesn't make them less true or harmful. It just makes me less prepared. And that is a kind of evil all it's own.

My Birthday Blessings

Birthdays are precarious things, particularly if they are laden with expectations. I am surrounded by people who love me and show it. Even so, I found all the "Have a fabulous day!" comments reinforced my perception that it felt a little less than fabulous. Which is totally ridiculous, because it was full of blessings. So, I'm going to count some of them here, for my own mental health. I may be leaving out a few potholes, but that is rather the point...

When I got up, the house was quiet (1), so I woke the boys and started preparing breakfast. Then Josh -- who I assumed to be on his way to work -- walked back in the door (2) with a cafe mocha (3) and scones (4). Good man. (5) The point is not that the barista forgot the mocha pumps, the point is that he went and got me a treat!

After I scuttled the boys off to school (6, 7) and stopped back at Starbucks for an exchange (which they did for free 8), I left Isaac with an awesome babysitter (9) and went to a committee meeting of women I enjoy and respect (10). They even provided scones in honor of my birthday (Yes, that was scone #2. Score. 11).

Then, I had the rare chance to visit Trader Joe's (12). Alone (13). It's my favorite grocery store anyway, and it looks like pumpkin exploded all over every item they sell. Yum.

I got home to find a gift from a dear friend (14) and read a card from my Bible study small group (15). Serious warm fuzzies doing battle with my pms hormones. (Did I just say that?)

Then, there was Meal Swap delivered to my door (16). Really, enough said right there. I'm not makin' dinner.

A couple weeks ago, I told my boys to ask me what I wanted for my birthday (I've learned about subtlety with males, and not under any circumstance to ever use it). Then I told them I wanted them to learn Psalm 139:1-10 for my birthday. Ever since I found out that Jewish boys 2,000 years ago memorized The Torah, and Noah came home from preschool knowing The Lord's Prayer, I've upped the ante on our Scripture memory. We worked on it a little over dinner most nights, and by Oct 2nd, they were able to mostly pull it off (17, 18). And were adorable to boot (19, 20).

7. After dinner, Josh got home (21) in time to put the boys to bed (22) and free me to run off to a Girls' Night Out (23) at a neighbor's...

I think I ought to stop right there. If I talk about how I got to pick when to have lunch out with my Mom (23) and a date night with Josh (24)...how it was my choice that they both occurred the next day and were fabulous the next day, I'll sound like a total idiot.

See, counting your blessings works! It makes you feel like a spoiled brat instead of a loser...

Happy birthday to me. ;)

The Golden Years

I'm not particularly nostalgic. It may have something to do with my terrible long-term memory, but as a born optimist, it means I'm usually facing forward in hopeful ignorance.

Lately, some of that ignorance has been tested:

1. I had to read a book for work that was about parenting older children, and the line "The bigger the kids, the bigger the issues" burned itself into my brain. 
2. I've bumped into several examples (real and fictional) of grown sons who are not very close to their mothers. 
3. I've been walking with friends through an issue that scares the bejeezus out of me, but it doesn't really apply to the prepubescent crowd.

Meanwhile, my newborn is a saint. Sleeping through the night, happy during the day, growing like a weed. He could not be a better ambassador for the baby years.

Not that I needed the reminder. I've always known these pre-school years are more labor-intensive but also more sheltered, carrying less risk. I've still got the chicks in the nest. Mistakes--both mine and theirs'--tend to be smaller and easier to rectify.

But now that's really hitting home. Many of my oldest's friends started kindergarten this year. I can see the baby phase being eclipsed by The Next Phase: The School Years. And now, it scares me.

Which is really what this is all about. Fear. Taking my eyes off the God I know, the God who is good and sovereign. Who holds us in his hand. I knock Peter for taking his eyes off Christ. Then I do it.

A dear friend sent me this verse this morning:

"Lift up your eyes and look around; all your sons gather and come to you. As surely as I live," declares the Lord, "you will wear them as ornaments; you will put them on, like a bride." -- Isaiah 49:18

It sits in the middle of chapters that describe God's sovereignty and comfort -- how he is protecting His people and providing for them through His Son. I need this verse. I need this Son. And I need to remember that needing Him more over time is ultimately a good thing.

For further reading: Parenting is Hard for a Reason by Christina Fox

Love Is A Choice

If last week God was reminding me that life is not about easy, this weekend He was hammering home that I need to appreciate the difficult.

I'm almost done reading Elizabeth Prentiss's classic Stepping Heavenward. In it, the heroine (Katy) finds herself suddenly forced to live with people who do not agree with or understand her. She grieves that they tempt her to sin, that they sully the atmosphere. She hopes and prays they will leave. Until she realizes that God has brought them into her home for a reason. They may need her, but more certainly, her character needs the refining they inadvertently provide.

Yesterday our Sunday school teacher talked about King David's selfless decision to love Mephibosheth, the only man who could rightfully challenge David's kingship, and a stranger who had every right to be bitter and jealous of David. In other words, David invited someone who could be very problematic for him to take up permanent residence in his house.

In both cases, it would be easy to focus on getting rid of these "problems." Katy could have campaigned to oust her unwanted relatives. David's followers would gladly have eliminated Mephibosheth (as they had other challengers to the throne). And the world would -- does -- tell me to cut out people I find difficult: If they don't make me feel good, I don't need them. I need to have boundaries. I need to protect myself. I need...

But frankly, I don't really know what I need, and I often don't like what's good for me. I'd rather try to fix you (who I can't control) than fix me (who I can).

Rachel Jankovic likes to say she was a much better Christian before she had children. What she means is that it was easier to act like a Christian before she had someone constantly testing her character, challenging her to grow, exposing the sin hidden in her heart. As our pastor said Sunday, if we want the character of Job, we need the experience of Job: "I can live a charmed and comfortable, cozy life, but it's going to cost me. I will be shallow, superficial, and self-centered. Character is formed--character is forged--through hardship." It is the difficulties that can soften, strengthen, and mold us to be more like Christ.

My life is cushy and my family is ridiculously easy to get along with, so I felt pretty good about myself when I first started thinking about this. Then I remembered the things that bug me, the pet peeves that fester, the issues that make me feel superior or condescending to others. I have a loooong way to go.

Rather than being dismissive or nagging, trying to conform others to my expectations, perhaps it's time I sat back and thought more about Why has God brought this person or issue into my life? What is He trying to teach me? What sin is it revealing in my heart? How does He want me to respond?

NOTE: I'm sure it's no coincidence that our pastor has recently preached on "God Loves Inappropriate People," "God Loves People Who Are Not Like Us" and today "God Loves Sufferers." Someday, I'll get the message... ;)