From the BlogSubscribe Now

Archives for October 2012

How are We Supposed to Deal with Our Shame?

Posted on October 26, 2012 // 1 Comment

     Do you ever feel ashamed?

     If you’re anything like me, then you may have said or done sometime this week or last Friday night you’re not proud of, and you wish—oh, how you wish—it had never happened.

     Assuming for a moment that you’ve done at least one shameful deed at some point in your life, let me ask you, what did you do with your shame? As Americans, how are we supposed to deal with our shame? In American society we don’t have a social structure or a legal system that addresses shame. The United States is an innocence-guilt culture in which we emphasize personal integrity and individual responsibility. In our culture, it is important for individuals to maintain their innocence, which is why we teach our children it’s never appropriate to lie, cheat, or steal. If someone gets caught breaking the law or has a moral failing that becomes public, that individual is declared guilty and needs to make some form of restitution. However, paying a fine or serving time doesn’t address a person’s shame. A rapist may pay for his guilt in prison, but on the day he’s set free, how does he escape his shame? As for his victim, what is she supposed to do if she, after hearing the guilty verdict, exits the courtroom feeling naked and ashamed? …

     Because American culture is so biased toward an innocence-guilt perspective on life, shame is not just an issue our society struggles to address; shame is an issue our society struggles to recognize. We Americans want to believe there is no reason to be ashamed of ourselves if we haven’t committed a crime, but we don’t have to be guilty of breaking the law to bring shame upon ourselves, our families, and our communities. Furthermore, because guilt and shame feel much the same, when we experience shame, we often mistake those feelings for guilt. Yet guilt and shame are not the same; guilt and shame reflect different offenses.

     Unlike guilt, which is an emotion that individuals feel when they violate a law, shame is an emotion that an entire group feels when one of its members violates a relationship. Therefore, when we as human beings fail to treat one another with respect or when we break the bond of trust in a personal relationship, we bring shame upon ourselves, upon the relationship we violate, and upon the community of people we represent. …

     As Americans, we may live with an innocence-guilt perspective on life, but as human beings we feel the shame of our violated relationships. We can suppress our shame, or we can try to address our shame as if it were guilt, but unlike guilt, we cannot pay for our shame. It doesn’t matter how much or how often we pay, the shame we feel as lingering guilt cannot be paid away.

     So once again I ask, how are we supposed to deal with our shame? …

     In our twenty-first-century world—a world in which our communal existence has been reduced to a wasteland of broken relationships and distrust—we need a faith that not only addresses our guilt but also helps us deal with our shame.

Filed Under: Book Excerpts // Tagged: , , , , ,

What’s at Stake in the Creation vs. Evolution Debate?

Posted on October 23, 2012 // 6 Comments

Looking beneath the surface of the creation vs. evolution debate, this excerpt from chapter 8 brings to light how a noble fight for “truth” may not be so noble after all.

     Have you ever been to a creation vs. evolution debate? In the late twentieth century these spectacles were the heavyweight bouts of America’s culture war. I was lucky enough to attend one of these epic battles back in 1991. The fight was held in a performing arts auditorium at a prestigious liberal arts university. The event was sold out, but fortunately, being from New Jersey, I knew a guy.

     The venue was packed and the crowd went wild when the two opponents were introduced. The man in the red corner, representing the young-earth creationists, had the swagger of a condescending Christian. The man in the blue corner, representing the evolutionists, had the look of an angry atheist. The place was raw with emotion, and when the two combatants met in the middle of the stage to shake hands, you could tell this was going to be one hell of a fight.

     From the opening bell the evolutionist threw his hardest scientific data at the creationist, but the creationist was able to dodge and deflect most of the punches with theistic responses and anecdotal evidence that illustrated the uncertainty of evolutionary science. With each passing round the evolutionist grew more and more frustrated with the creationist’s defense: unless the evolutionist could recreate the Big Bang or form life out of primordial soup, the creationist was not going to throw in the towel; he was not going to concede that the earth was billions of years old or that evolution was a scientific fact.

     Unlike the evolutionist, the creationist didn’t deliver hard, scientific punches. He seemed content to jab at his opponent, exposing the various gaps in the theory of evolution. The hardest scientific data he threw supported the biblical account of a worldwide flood, but it was not much of a punch. Some might have even called it a slap in the face of science.

     After more than two hours of debating, neither man showed any signs of tiring, and neither one had the proof to land a knockout punch. As they stood there toe-to-toe, exchanging blows, the final bell rang, and the moderator stepped in to call an end to the fight. The debate was over.

     So who won?

     Well, it depends on whom you ask. There were no judges, so there was no official decision. When the moderator said good night and the house lights came on, it was time for everyone to leave, but the fight was far from over. As the crowd made its way up the aisles and out the front doors, so did the debate over who won, and no one was going to step in to stop that fight.

     In the end I don’t know if there were any winners in the creation vs. evolution debate, but I can tell you this: there are plenty of angry and condescending people in both camps who insist they’re wearing the title belt of truth.

     Truth? Is that what this was about? Was America’s culture war a fight for truth? Did the creation vs. evolution debate devolve into a verbal street brawl because people were passionate about the truth? In hindsight I don’t think so. There was a time when I believed in the fight for truth, but not anymore.

     Truth—absolute truth—is not something that can be won or lost in a debate. Whether I think life on earth is a product of God’s creation, evolution, alien invasion, or something else does not affect the truth. The truth is simply that—the truth. It is what it is.

     Those involved in the creation vs. evolution debate can insist they’re engaged in a noble fight for truth, but it’s hard to see the endless debate as anything more than a shameless struggle for control. Regardless of what scientific data is brought forward, creationists refuse to give up the “good” fight, praying they’ll win so they can bring creationism back into our public schools. Meanwhile, the evolutionists are just as committed to winning so they can keep creationism (i.e., religion) out of our public schools. Each camp passionately professes to be fighting for the truth, but the prize for winning the creation vs. evolution debate is not the belt of truth. The prize for winning the debate is control over what is printed in textbooks and taught to our children. When you strip away all the hoopla and posturing, the creation vs. evolution debate, like any other debate, is merely a fight to gain control over what is perceived and what is portrayed as the truth.

Take a minute to think about the fights, conflicts, and disagreements you are currently involved in and ask yourself, “What is it that I’m really fighting for?”

Filed Under: Book Excerpts // Tagged: , , , , ,

What Happens When the “Miracle of Life” is No Longer a Miracle?

Posted on October 19, 2012 // Leave a Comment

In today’s world we don’t view the “miracle of life” as being much of a miracle anymore. The microscope has allowed us to unravel the mystery of conception, the pill and abortion have given women power over pregnancy, anesthesia has reduced the pain of childbirth, and modern prenatal and postnatal care have greatly reduced the mortality rates of mother and child. Thanks to modern medicine we have essentially gained control over pregnancy and childbirth, and having done so we no longer need to view God as the Giver of life. Now we can see ourselves as the givers of life, and we can feel justified in deciding when life begins and when life should end.

     Seeing ourselves as the givers of life has significant implications for how we view our children. Instead of viewing them as being created in “the image of God,” we view them as being created in our image. Instead of teaching our children to pursue what God created them to be, we encourage them to be whatever they want to be, and we push and manipulate them to do what we want them to do.

     Yes, we want our children to be healthy for their benefit, but we also want them to be healthy for our benefit. A healthy child makes a more flattering accessory for a mannequin on display than a child who is deformed, handicapped, or retarded.

     If you think I’m being too harsh or overstating my point, consider the ultimate goal of the Human Genome Project. We want to think the goal of mapping human DNA is to eradicate disease and birth defects. That may be a goal, but is it the goal? I think the ultimate goal is immortality. As the givers of life we want the ability to give ourselves eternal life, and if we cannot make ourselves immortal, then the second-best option is to have the ability to create our children in whatever image we desire. If we can successfully identify, reproduce, and splice all the genes needed to form a human being, maybe we can fashion the idols of our dreams. Can you imagine a build-a-baby boutique where we could flip through catalogues of human traits, from eye color to IQ, custom designing our children, with the only limitation being the balance in our checking account?

     Whether we want to believe it or not, this is where we are trying to take technology in the twenty-first century. Although God told Adam, “for dust you are and to dust you will return,” we are unwilling to accept God as the Giver and Sustainer of life—we want to give ourselves eternal life.

     As technology continues to advance in the twenty-first century, offering us more and more control over pregnancy and childbirth, who or what will we trust as the giver of life? Will we spend more time pursuing ageless immortality? Will we commit more energy to living like mannequins on display? Will we try to fashion our children into the idols of our dreams? Or will we become more grateful for the life we have, embrace the limits of our humanity, and love our children as God created them?

Filed Under: Book Excerpts // Tagged: , , , , ,

The Illusion of Control

Posted on October 16, 2012 // 3 Comments

This excerpt from chapter 6 addresses the effects that modern technology has had on how we experience (or don’t experience) life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness.

     The illusion of control vanished as people across Washington, DC, Virginia, and Maryland feared for their lives. There was at least one sniper on the loose, randomly shooting individuals in shopping center parking lots and gas stations. As panic settled over the Washington metropolitan area, people began to look over their shoulders as they loaded groceries and pumped gas into their cars, hoping, praying, that they would not be next.

     After three weeks of terror, on October 24, 2002, two perpetrators were apprehended at a rest stop off an interstate highway. The ordeal had finally come to an end but tragically not before ten people had been killed and three others seriously wounded by the Beltway snipers.

     Horrific stories like this one are disturbing. Somewhere deep within our beings, maybe in our souls, we feel a most unsettling angst—one that tends to linger. Death can have this effect on us, particularly in situations where it could have been avoided, or in this case when it is a random, senseless act of violence. It just feels wrong.

     Beyond the tragic loss of life, there’s something else about an event like this that disturbs us—the jarring realization that we’re not in control of our lives as much as we’d like to think. The idea that I could be shot while loading groceries into my car reminds me that I do not sustain my own life. Sure, we can avoid dangerous situations and take meticulous care of our bodies, but ultimately we’re not in control. There are countless internal and external variables that could end our lives in an instant. A blood vessel could burst in my brain as I type these words and there would be nothing I could do about it; a drunk driver could hit me head-on before I have a second to react; a tidal wave could wash over my family as we stand helplessly on the beach; and a giant asteroid could be hurling toward Earth, and the only thing we could do would be to count down the seconds until impact. We are at the mercy of the world around us, and we need our bodies to perform countless involuntary functions to keep us alive. That’s part of why hearing a story about madmen randomly shooting people is so troublesome; it’s a shocking reminder that life is fragile and that we do not have ultimate control over our lives. Death, without warning, can visit any one of us at any time.

     However, in twenty-first-century America, we live with the illusion that we’re in control of our lives. Most mornings when we get out of bed, we expect to return to our pillows that evening. The average American has no reason to think otherwise, and so understandably we assume each day we’ll live for yet another day.

     We’re able to live with this illusion of control because technology has helped us mitigate the curses. Most Americans don’t have to fight off wild animals. Thanks to gunpowder, pesticides, vaccines, and other modern developments, we’ve regained control over much of the animal world. As for our struggle with the ground, irrigation techniques, genetic engineering of plants, modern machinery, and advancements in weather forecasting and seismology have helped us manage and even at times control our groaning planet. We’ve mitigated the curses to a greater degree than any other people in human history, and as technology continues to progress, so will our illusion of control.

     …Technology feeds the illusion of control so much so that it is easy for us to think that we don’t need God, that we can sustain ourselves, and that we can tame our groaning planet. As a result, we’re consumed with self-preservation. Instead of focusing on today, we worry about tomorrow. Instead of being content with what we have, we search for what we think we need.

     As we pursue self-preservation, life is passing us by. We want to believe that “there’s always tomorrow,” which is why death, particularly the unexpected death of a loved one, leaves us questioning how we spend our time today. In mitigating the curses, we seem to be losing sight of what really matters—life together.…

     As technology continues to advance in the twenty-first century, offering us more and more control over the curses, who or what will we trust to sustain our lives? Will we spend more time pursuing the illusion of control? Will we commit more energy to preserving our own existence? Will we become more adept at playing the blame game? Or will we become more grateful for what we have, take more responsibility for our actions, and regain perspective on what really matters in life?

Filed Under: Book Excerpts // Tagged: , , , ,

Why Does God Seem So Distant?

Posted on October 12, 2012 // 1 Comment

“Why does God seem so distant?” Have you ever asked yourself that question?

This excerpt from chapter 4 addresses what I believe is the central issue in our relationship with God.

     After eating from the Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil, Adam and Eve wanted nothing to do with God. When they heard God walking in the garden of Eden, they hid from him among the trees. When God called out to Adam, “Where are you?” Adam offered a lame excuse for hiding. When God asked Adam what had happened, Adam blamed Eve for giving him the forbidden fruit, and he blamed God for giving him an inadequate helper. Finally, when God asked Eve what she had done, Eve blamed the serpent. After eating the forbidden fruit, Adam and Eve did all they could to avoid God, and when God brought the truth to light, Adam and Eve refused to take responsibility for violating their personal relationship with God.

     Yet despite all that Adam and Eve had done—the betraying, the covering, the hiding, and the blaming—God didn’t give up on his relationship with humankind. God pursued Adam and Eve again and again.

     What overwhelms me most about God’s pursuit of Adam and Eve is not his undying commitment to humankind; what overwhelms me most is how God’s reaching out to Adam and Eve seems to contradict a fundamental tenet of the Judeo-Christian belief system. Central to both Judaism and Christianity is the doctrine that sin and sinful beings cannot exist in the holy presence of God, but in the garden of Eden drama—the story that explains when and how sin entered the human race—God is portrayed as one who reaches out to sinful humanity.

I don’t know what you were taught as a child, but I was raised to believe that sin cannot exist in the presence of God, and therefore, God had to banish sinful people from his presence. Why? Why was I lead to believe that God abandoned us, that he turned his back on me, when the story of Adam and Eve clearly teaches that God pursues us again and again?

Maybe instead of asking, “Why does God seem so distant?” we should be asking, “Why do we distance ourselves from God?” Maybe our “search” for God is actually our running from God; maybe it’s God who is searching for us.

Filed Under: Book Excerpts // Tagged: , , , , , , , , ,

Are We Merely Mannequins on Display?

Posted on October 9, 2012 // 1 Comment

This excerpt from chapter 3 uncovers our greatest fear and exposes the great lengths we go to keep it covered.

     What is your greatest fear? Some researchers tell us our greatest fear is public speaking. Yet when you think about it, the fear of public speaking isn’t a fear of being in public or a fear of speaking, it’s a fear of making a mistake or not having an answer to a question. We fear being laughed at. We fear whispering words. We fear judgment. We fear being seen naked.

     The fear of being seen naked runs much deeper than simply a fear of being found without clothes. It’s a fear that a suit of armor can’t cover—a fear we live with every day. Imagine if in an instant every thought you’ve ever had and everything you’ve ever said and done were fully exposed for all to see. How would you feel? Naked?

     In response, we are consumed with covering and hiding the truth of who we are, what we think, and the shameful things we’ve said and done. We pretend to be smarter, stronger, purer, more beautiful, and better in countless other ways than we really are. We’re desperately afraid of being seen naked.

     To mask our fear we spend our lives in disguise. Like mannequins on display, we change our clothes to the latest fashions, we fix our hair to the newest styles, and we display ourselves with plastic smiles, hoping that all who pass by will like what they see.

     The truth, of course, is that we are not mannequins. We are not filled with foam; we’re filled with other stuff that makes us human, and not simply the blood and guts stuff. There are aspects of our humanity that cannot be contained in a box or measured on a scale. Passion and emotion flood and flow from our bodies. Passion and emotion are what inspire us to experience our humanity. Mannequins don’t feel the shame of being laughed at or the pain of cancer or the sadness of death. And mannequins don’t feel the joy, wonder, and love that come with being human.

     I don’t want to live like a mannequin on display with a lifeless smile, void of inner consciousness and feeling, but I don’t want to be seen naked. When seen naked I often feel vulnerable, weak, and insecure. This creates a particularly difficult dilemma because as an American I’m supposed to be confident, strong, and invincible. I cannot be seen naked—it’s … it’s un-American!

     So then what should I do? What should we do? How do we stop living like mannequins on display?

 

Filed Under: Book Excerpts // Tagged: , , , , , ,

Living in the Land of Forbidden Fruit

Posted on October 7, 2012 // 4 Comments

This excerpt from chapter 2 demystifies the children’s version of the Adam and Eve story, challenging us to consider how we indulge ourselves on forbidden fruit.

     “If you were raised in the United States, you probably heard about Adam and Eve eating the forbidden fruit at least once during your childhood. If you’re anything like me, the children’s version of the story acquired a fairy-tale-like mystique, happening once upon a time, long ago, in a faraway place, with the serpent plotting to eliminate the naïve maiden, and the forbidden fruit—the serpent’s agent of death—taking on the shrouded identity of a spellbound apple. In this fairy-tale rendering the garden of Eden drama is reduced to a moral lesson on the need to obey God or else.

     The children’s version of the Adam and Eve story is so prevalent and accepted in our culture that when I speak on the subject, most people are surprised to hear that the biblical account does not state that the forbidden fruit was an apple. In fact, the type of fruit Adam and Eve ate is not revealed anywhere in the Bible. To take it a step further, to my knowledge there is no definitive historical record or consensus identifying the kind of fruit Adam and Eve ate, but the perception that the forbidden fruit was an apple has been so accepted in our society that it has reached the status of common knowledge. …

     I’ve come to believe that the original storyteller did not reveal the fruit’s identity because the fruit itself is not that important to the story. Identifying the fruit might have even been a distraction, directing the audience’s attention away from the participants in the drama and onto the fruit itself. If the author had revealed the type of fruit that hung on the Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil, then maybe humans would have cut down and burned every such “evil” tree just as we have cut down and burned “evil” books and “evil” people, thinking that the problem of evil in the world could be eradicated by destroying “evil” forms. …

     There didn’t need to be anything extraordinary about the Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil or its fruit because the story is not about what Eve and Adam ate, or about an evil form, or about a moral lesson on the need to obey God or else. The story of Adam and Eve is the human story of our determining for ourselves what is good and evil and in doing so attempting to sustain our own existence.

     Although we don’t have the choice between eating from the Tree of Life and the Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil, each of us in our own way examines the forbidden fruit, asking why we should not eat it. Each of us in our own way struggles with the question “Do you trust me?” Sometimes we overcome the temptation to do what seems right in our own eyes, but other times the allure of more, offering a delightful illusion of control and satisfaction, proves too much to suppress, and we indulge ourselves with the forbidden fruit.

Please, take some time to reflect upon this excerpt and share your thoughts.

Filed Under: Book Excerpts // Tagged: , , , , , , , ,

The Cost of Chasing After the “American Dream”

Posted on October 5, 2012 // 1 Comment

For this blog to be a helpful resource the posts need to address the issues and struggles of its readers. Therefore, to get a pulse on the audience, the first month of posts will be excerpts—intentionally provocative excerpts—from my book Dying to Control that will hopefully spark conversation.

This first excerpt comes from chapter 1, addressing the issue of personal relationships and how we, in American society, have sacrificed our personal relationships for the sake of chasing after the “American dream.”

“Do you trust me?” is the central question of personal relationships. Trust is what binds people together. The extent to which we experience trust with one another will determine the depth of each relationship. For example, we typically proclaim our love to another only after we’ve gained a level of confidence that the other will gently handle such sensitive news. Once we express our love, we wait in exposed anticipation to see how it’s received. If it’s handled well, we deem the water safe for experiencing deeper expressions of trust.

            Yet regardless of how safe we feel in any personal relationship, exhibiting trust assumes certain risks. Whether we trust someone with privileged information, material goods, or our lives, to trust is to run the risk of being betrayed, rejected, or maybe even abandoned. Personal relationships do not come with any contractual guarantees. Once formal agreements enter a relationship, that aspect of the relationship is defined by impersonal terms. There is no way to escape the fact that investing in personal relationships demands personal risk.

            Given the uncertainty of personal relationships, it’s reasonable to question whether they are worth pursuing. What if a person, after being betrayed or abandoned, concludes that engaging in personal relationships is just not worth the risk?…

Impersonal relationships now dominate our society. Buying a product without a contract or written guarantee is seen as foolish or naïve. Privacy fences in our suburban communities allow us to ignore our neighbors. A conversation without purposeful intent is considered lost time. Productivity, productivity, productivity is our consuming obsession. Who has the time, energy, or interest to just be with other people? What a waste—right?

The exchange of personal for impersonal relationships has not just affected our human interactions. The exchange has transcended into the God-human realm as well. In American society, we generally view our relationship with God as a contractual exchange of products and services. We try to live by the rules of our respective faiths while God doles out rewards and punishments in response to our successes and failures in meeting the terms of the agreement.

For those who claim to have a personal relationship with God, tragedy can quickly reveal how impersonal that relationship may actually be. The common expressions “What did I do to deserve this?” and “God, what do you want from me?” question whether I (or maybe God) failed to meet some requirement of the God-human contract. Prayer during times of trial can also sound impersonal. Take for example these timeless, fill-in-the-blank prayers of desperation: “God, if you ________, I’ll never _______ again”; “God, if you _______, I promise to _______”; and “God, what do you want me to do for you to _______?” Such prayers do not sound like personal appeals to God; instead, they sound like attempts to negotiate a new contract with an old business partner. …

            With “I” at the heart of Western religion and psychology and with the belief that the individual is at the center of the universe, we are gradually losing our identity as relational beings. Achieving financial freedom and self-sufficiency in every imaginable aspect of life has become the American dream, with even God being portrayed as a means for reaching our own individualistic ends.

What do you think? Enrich the conversation by sharing your thoughts and questions.

Filed Under: Book Excerpts // Tagged: , , , , , , , ,