DYING TO CONTROL: The 21st Century DilemmaSubscribe Now

The Introduction to “Dying To Control”

Posted on February 8, 2013 // 1 Comment

A few questions that I’ve received about my book and blog are “What inspired you to write it?”, “What is ‘Dying to Control‘ all about?” and “What are you hoping to accomplish?” In thinking about how to answer these questions, I figured it might be helpful if I posted the book’s introduction. If the following does not answer your questions or if you have any additional questions, please let me know.

 Introduction

Time was beating second after relentless second as I sat, hunkered down in my apartment study, surrounded by the workload of seminary. Mindful of a deadline that would arise shortly after dawn, I fired away at the keyboard, writing a paper on the subject of God’s holiness. Having been exposed to impressions of God from an early age, I described his holiness as I had always envisioned it—a glorious light radiating his absolute power and authority throughout the universe. I defined holiness in terms of purity, perfection, and the absence of sin. Then, as I was explaining why humans cannot enter or even look upon the holy glow of God, something curious happened. Without warning, the words, “Stop writing what you already think!” blew through my mind. Silenced, I sat staring at the bright, square light of the monitor as a calming peace draped over me.

After a while I stood up, picked up my Bible, walked out of the study, sat down on the living room couch, and began reading the story that speaks to why the relationship between God and humankind is so distant—the story of Adam and Eve eating the forbidden fruit in Genesis 3.

Now the serpent was more crafty than any of the wild animals the Lord God had made. He said to the woman, “Did God really say, ‘You must not eat from any tree in the garden’?”

2The woman said to the serpent, “We may eat fruit from the trees in the garden,3but God did say, ‘You must not eat fruit from the tree that is in the middle of the garden, and you must not touch it, or you will die.’”

4“You will not surely die,” the serpent said to the woman. 5“For God knows that when you eat of it your eyes will be opened, and you will be like God, knowing good and evil.”

6When the woman saw that the fruit of the tree was good for food and pleasing to the eye, and also desirable for gaining wisdom, she took some and ate it. She also gave some to her husband, who was with her, and he ate it. 7Then the eyes of both of them were opened, and they realized they were naked; so they sewed fig leaves together and made coverings for themselves.

8Then the man and his wife heard the sound of the Lord God as he was walking in the garden in the cool of the day, and they hid from the Lord God among the trees of the garden. 9But the Lord God called to the man, “Where are you?”

 

“Where are you?”Those words caught my eye in a way they never had before, and like a child seeing fireworks for the first time, I gazed at them in fearful delight. Awed and perplexed, I began to wonder: If sin and sinful beings cannot exist in the presence of God, then what was God doing walking in the garden of Eden after Adam and Eve had eaten the forbidden fruit? And why did God call out, “Where are you?” An all-powerful, all-knowing God certainly would have been aware of what they’d done and where they were hiding. This Genesis story, credited with explaining the expanse between a holy God and a sinful humanity, actually speaks of a God who reaches out to us.

I didn’t know this God, or at least I didn’t understand the complexity of this God. The God of my Catholic upbringing would have yelled, “I know where you are! I know what you did! Come out and receive your just punishment!” The God of my Protestant faith would have retreated to the purity of heaven to begin bridging the chasm between a holy God and a sinful humanity. Why was I taught that sin could not exist in the presence of God? How had I missed God’s invitation in verse 9 for so many years?

As I watched the foundation of my Christian faith detonate, I marveled at the glorious display. For the first time I was seeing God in color. The blinding white light of a punitive dictator who torments us for our sin had given way to a colorful array, and the silhouette of God as an alienated friend who must overcome the cosmic law that sinful beings cannot exist in his presence faded to black.

 *************************

 Since those dawning hours on September 23, 1998, my life has been consumed with studying, teaching, and experiencing the implications of Genesis 3. This book is a product of that journey. Written through the lens of Adam and Eve, Dying to Control is a reflective commentary on twentieth- and twenty-first-century American culture.

To appreciate this book, you don’t have to consider the garden of Eden drama to be a historical account; all that’s necessary is that you’re willing to consider the possibility that the story offers some insight into humanity’s conflict with God and one another. For too long now the debate between the scientific and religious communities over the historical merits of Adam and Eve and the garden of Eden has divided and distracted people from the story itself. Arguments over issues such as whether serpents ever walked or talked have grown old and have little bearing on the meaning and relevance of the account.

To illustrate my point, consider the story of the Three Little Pigs. Imagine if someone dismissed the tale because pigs do not build houses and wolves cannot blow them down. In response to the dismissal, imagine someone else trying to validate the story by providing scientific evidence suggesting that pigs may have at one time walked on two legs, had opposable thumbs, and had a brain mass capable of architectural design. Can you hear the ensuing debate over the intellectual potential of pigs and the lung capacity of wolves? None of which, by the way, would have any bearing on the moral of the story. In the end, with each side fighting to win the debate, the message of the Three Little Pigs would be lost.

To be clear, I’m not equating the story of the Three Little Pigs with the story of Adam and Eve. Rather, I’m drawing a comparison that illustrates our society’s absurd treatment of the garden of Eden drama. I find it hard to believe that those who argue against the historicity of the story simply dismiss the account as a mythical tale that offers little or no insight into our human condition. I also find it hard to believe that those who argue for the historicity of the story continue to focus their attention on protecting their position against attack and dissent. The garden of Eden drama—one of the oldest and most widely cherished stories in human history—has been misused and abused in the battleground of America’s culture war.

Today, across America, you’ll find religious enclaves still fighting this war. Consumed by their self-preserving causes, these communities of truth fighters adhere to a theology of a God who blows down houses when we don’t live by his rules. Deafened by the noise of warfare, these communities don’t hear, but rather fear, the engaging words of God: “Where are you?”

*************************

Where are you?

Like Adam and Eve, we all hide among the trees when we’re afraid. We congregate there with those who view the world in similar ways and welcome what they see of us. We hide and gather with like-minded people because we fear the world seeing the naked truth of who we are and what we think and the shameful deeds we’ve done. We fear being exposed, for once we are truly known, we realize we must face an even greater fear—the fear of rejection.

To avoid living in fear, we grope for control of our lives and surroundings. Desperate to gain control of our world and our eternal destinies, we hijack anything that might give us the power needed to exert our will. Again and again, however, in our attempts to preserve and promote self we end up killing ourselves and one another. This sad irony has been an underlying theme in human history.

So, what do we do? In a world bleeding with religious conflict, in a world coughing from pollution, in a world starving for nourishment and love, what do we do?

Lasting solutions begin with making honest evaluations of ourselves as individuals and as members of families, neighborhoods, nations, and the world community. Instead of covering our humanity, we need to interact with and seek to understand one another in the midst of our humanity. Only after we stop hiding and blaming others for the woes of our world will we be able to own and address the shame we have each brought upon the human race.

My hope for humankind in the twenty-first century is that we will emerge from the shadows of shame to experience freedom from our obsession with control. This is the kind of freedom the world needs—a freedom that releases unconditional love and compassion.

My hope for this book is that it will stimulate self-reflection and dialogue that will draw people out of hiding to experience life with one another. I also hope this book will contribute to the theological framework of the next generation of Christians who believe they have a God-given responsibility to participate in restoring an Eden-like beauty to every dark corner of our world.

In the end we have a choice—individually and collectively. We can continue fighting for control by ignoring, denying, deflecting, rationalizing, and whitewashing the truth of who we are and what we think and the shameful deeds we do—or with open and outstretched hands we can submit to one another.

Fight or submit—that is the choice set before us. That is the dilemma of dying to control.

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

Just Another Manic Sunday

Posted on February 1, 2013 // Leave a Comment

It’s Sunday, and the morning routine is much the same as any other day, except for one inexplicable difference: the force of Murphy’s Law—whatever can go wrong will go wrong—is strongest on Sunday mornings.

It starts with everyone being slow to get out of bed. It happens every Sunday, but each time it seems to come as a surprise and creates the time pressure of being fifteen minutes behind schedule.

Not long after, son pushes his little sister. Sister hits her head on the kitchen table. Ten minutes of wiping away of tears, hugs, and a spanking for son create another delay. The family is now twenty-five minutes behind schedule.

Dad jumps into the shower only to step on a yellow rubber ducky that mom didn’t put away after bathing daughter the night before. Dad slips, catches himself, but feels a twinge in his hamstring and aggravates a shoulder injury he first suffered during his high school athletic career, when a boy feels no pain and answers the call, “Suck it up!” Twenty years later, dad feels the pain as it spurs into anger towards his wife.

“Son of a…! There’s no soap!”

Dad, unable to suck up his pain, sucks up his anger. He finishes his shampoo shower and continues his morning routine with one arm and a limp, saying as little as possible.

Mom, seeing dad hobble into the bedroom, asks if everything is okay. Dad’s glare communicates more than either of them want to discuss.

Mom returns to pulling up her pantyhose, but wouldn’t you know it, they get a run and, of course, they are her last pair.

Dad’s limp and mom’s wardrobe malfunction combine for another eight-minute delay. If you do the math, the family is now thirty-three minutes behind schedule, but somehow, somewhere, Murphy showed up and the family is an hour behind.

“I guess we’ll have to go to the second service…again,” Dad mutters. The words and tone suggest that the delay is Moms’ fault—it’s always Mom’s fault.

Eventually they finish getting ready, load up the car, and go—the Average family is on their way to church. The ride is silent. Daughter rubs the bump on her head as she plots her revenge. Son stews over the spanking he received, knowing that his mother hit him in anger, making her a hypocrite and no better than himself for pushing his sister. Mom thinks about what she will wear to church next week given that she had to put on next week’s outfit today. And dad sucks up his bubbling anger, but after having to stop at five red lights, can’t hold back any longer and erupts, “Un-freaking-believable!”

The Average family finally makes it to church with a few minutes to spare, and mom and dad put on their happy faces as they exchange pleasantries with the people they pass on their way to the sanctuary.

“Hello, how are you doing?”

“Good. How are you doing?”

“Good.”

This exchange is repeated over and over, again and again, week after week.

As son and daughter get older, they begin to resent the very notion of going to church. They wonder, “What’s the point?” and dream of being old enough to stay home. But until then, it’s just another manic Sunday.

Filed Under: Uncategorized //

In Search of More Heroes

Posted on January 25, 2013 // Leave a Comment

We love our heroes. Whether they are warriors like Sir William Wallace, humanitarians like Mother Teresa, or civil rights activists like Dr. Martin Luther King Jr., we are captivated by those that reach beyond reason, risking their lives, for the good of humanity. And when we look through history, we find heroes in every society—men and women who sacrificed their own well-being in hopes of bringing freedom and opportunity to the people they loved.

Now even though heroes come in all shapes and sizes, we often have an idealized image of what a hero should be like; we call that hero a superhero. What’s fascinating about America’s quintessential superhero is how much he has evolved in just one generation. Thirty years ago our superhero of superheroes was Superman. Superman was an incredible specimen, with strength, power, and natural ability beyond human imagination. And Superman’s human persona—Clark Kent—was a man of impeccable character: humble, gentle, quiet, innocent, pure, and perfect in seemingly every conceivable way. Without blemish or flaw, Hollywood portrayed Superman as a Christ-like figure, coming to earth from another world to save the human race.

Thirty years later, Hollywood has brought a new super superhero to town; we call him Iron Man. Unlike Superman, Iron Man’s strength, power, and ability are not natural; they are a product of human innovation. And Iron Man’s human persona—John Stark—isn’t the nicest guy. To be honest, John Stark is a bit of an ass. He’s arrogant and self-righteous, forceful and loud, and he’s prone to get drunk on alcohol and women. Iron Man is imperfect in seemingly every conceivable way.

So, what’s the deal? Why is Iron Man portrayed as the kind of guy you would never let your daughter date?

Over the past few years, I’ve read and heard Christian leaders and critics of culture lament how our standards of moral excellence have diminished as a society and how that’s evident in Hollywood confusing good with evil by portraying even our greatest superheroes as morally suspect. These same Christian leaders and critics then go on to lament how this lack of morality is reflective of the next generation—a generation that has lost its moral compass and is no longer interested in the things of God, calling church irrelevant.

Holy cow, Batman! Is that really their conclusion, that the next generation is drawn to imperfect superheroes like Iron Man because it has lost its moral compass? Seriously, have they read the Bible?

Beside Jesus himself, is there any other biblical hero that isn’t morally suspect? Just consider a few of the more famous biblical heroes: Noah liked his wine and got passed-out drunk; Abraham pimped his wife and slept with her maidservant; Jacob deceived his father in order to steal his older brother’s blessing; Moses murdered a man and hid the body; and David took another man’s wife, got her pregnant, and then sent the man on a suicide mission. Which of these heroes would you let your daughter date?

You see, Noah, Abraham, Jacob, Moses, David and all the other great men and women of faith are not heroes because of their moral excellence; they’re heroes because each of them defied reason and lived by faith, risking their lives in order to bring freedom and opportunity to the people they loved, the people God loved.

Maybe the problem with the next generation isn’t that they’ve lost their moral compass or that they’ve become disinterested in God. Maybe the next generation has simply become disinterested in a faith that places more emphasis on moral excellence than on bringing freedom and opportunity to people in need. Maybe the next generation needs more heroes—men and women who neither hide nor flaunt their moral imperfections, but honestly and openly struggle with their flawed humanity as they sacrifice their lives for the people they love, for the people God loves.

Filed Under: Uncategorized //

Confessions of a Self-Proclaimed “Control Freak”

Posted on January 21, 2013 // Leave a Comment

Two weeks ago I invited people familiar with “Dying to Control” to share their personal stories of life-change. The following submission is a revealing account of one person’s current struggle and her hopes of experiencing more freedom than she’s ever experienced before. I hope you enjoy her story.

“So I have been thinking a lot lately about some stuff.  God usually has to hit me over the head with “stuff” before it begins to sink in.  I have been struggling a lot lately with my relationship with my wonderful and favorite oldest daughter (I have two daughters, one favorite oldest and one favorite youngest) who is 12.  For some time now she has been emerging into this “teenager” believing she has all the right answers and knows more than those around her.  She also is emerging into this young lady who wants freedom and thinks that her parents are too “strict” – she doesn’t even begin to understand that term!  Anyway, as I have been thinking about our interactions and fights lately it makes me sad that I have this need to continue to engage in this “struggle”.  I have been trying to understand the “why” to my actions.  I have the most amazing husband/partner in this life together that keeps “trying” to remind me that I am supposed to be the “mature” one emotionally, physically and spiritually and I need to just relax and we will all get through this stage!  I have had some amazing teaching in the last 10 years about loving others and God and having a relationship and not a contract where I get goods and services and that ends it.  I need to be engaging in life together with people and not trying to “control” everything.  I have never thought of myself as a control freak, but when I really look at even saying that I am not a control freak, that makes me a control freak.   I hope that this is all beginning to sink into my brain where I can honestly say I don’t “need” to be in control.  I don’t “need” to have all the right answers, and most importantly I don’t “need” to self-protect myself.  What I “need” is to stop blaming others for their behaviors and actions toward me.  What I “need” is to stop “needing” to be right in every conversation, especially with my 12 year old.  What I “need” is to live the life that God has called me to live and let Him control every aspect of it.  What I “need” is to respond in love when someone attacks me.  What I “need” is to not be defensive when someone points out that I have “issues” I need to work on.  What I “need” is to remember all of this when the flesh starts to take over and I feel threatened.  I am going to continue to fight with my 12 year old daughter, I am going to continue to feel ashamed and want to hide behind the tree when I feel threatened.  That stuff is not going to go away, but if I can remember to look back on how God has freed me from the bondage of being in control, being self-protective, and blaming others last week or last month or even yesterday then maybe today that freedom will come a lot quicker and I can let go a lot sooner.”

 

Filed Under: Uncategorized //

Is It Wrong to Want Control?

Posted on January 18, 2013 // Leave a Comment

In my last post—We are Adam Lanza—I made the point that “we as a society are obsessed with the illusion of control, and when tragedy strikes, we’re more interested in trying to restore that illusion than in honestly assessing and dealing with the problem.” In response to that point, some people have asked, “Is it wrong to want control?”

That’s a good question, and it’s the subject of this post.

The desire for control is a natural phenomenon. Our mind is constantly taking in data through our five senses, filtering through that information, trying to make sense of the world around us. When we are unable to make sense of our world, or when our world goes into a state of chaos, we feel anxious and seek to bring order to that chaos. Taking it a step further, when our world becomes so chaotic that we feel personally threatened, fear kicks in, triggering the flow of adrenaline, setting off our fight-or-flight survival instinct.

Therefore, our desire for control—our desire to understand our environment and feel safe in it—is normal, which is why we appreciate the joke about the two men in the woods being chased by a bear. You’ve heard that joke, right? Two men are in the woods when they stumble upon a bear. Instinctively they turn and run. As they’re running away from the bear one man yells to the other, “Why are we running? We can’t outrun a bear?” Without looking back, the second man responds, “It’s not the bear I’m trying to outrun!”

The joke works because, in a humorous way, it brings to light a dark truth that we can relate to, that in life-threatening situations our natural instinct is to preserve self. That’s the natural order of things; that’s survival of the fittest. However, even though the fight-or-flight response is a natural and understandable reaction to an oncoming threat, it’s not our only option.

In the joke about the two men running from a bear, one man could have made the choice not to run; he could have sacrificed his life so that the other man could get away. Granted, that wouldn’t make for a funny joke, but it would make for an incredible story.

You see, in the face of fear we don’t have to run. We are not slaves to our primal urge to protect and preserve self. We can rise to something better, something that transcends the natural order of things. We can choose to love.

In a hectic, complicated world our illusion of control is constantly being threatened. Whether it’s an approaching super-storm, the effects of a sputtering economy, or the possibility of another terrorist attack, our lives are full of uncertainty. We can respond to each new threat with a fear-driven fight-or-flight mentality or we can be motivated by love. It’s our choice.

To be honest, I’m tired of living in fear—it’s exhausting. When you’re motivated by fear: you feel anxious; you worry; you have nightmares; you dread what might happen; you hold your possessions tightly, not wanting to lose what you have; and you’re always looking out for people that can hurt you.

In contrast, living in love is invigorating. When you’re motivated by love: you’re at peace; you have hope; you have dreams; you look forward to what will happen; you hold your possessions loosely, willing to share what you have; and you’re always looking out for people that you can help.

Being motivated by love sounds so much better than being motivated by fear, doesn’t it? So then why is it so hard? Why are we so anxious? Why do we spend so much time worrying about what might happen?

For love to overcome our fear, we have to believe that there’s more to life than our own survival, that we’re part of something greater than our own individual lives. We need to be willing to sacrifice self for a greater good. I like the way a friend of mine put it in response to my last post: “The pendulum of entitlement needs to swing back to what made this country great…God, country, family, self.”

In the end, the question “Is it wrong to want control?” may not be nearly as important as the questions “Why do we want control?” and “What do we do with the control we have?”

Are we motivated by fear…love…or something else?

Filed Under: Uncategorized // Tagged: , ,

We are Adam Lanza

Posted on January 11, 2013 // 1 Comment

A blog entry that I posted three months ago, titled The Illusion of Control, received an unusual number of hits this past week. Curious as to why, I reread the entry.

The post began with a brief summary of the tragedy that occurred in the Washington metropolitan area back in October, 2002, when ten people were killed and three others were seriously wounded by two snipers randomly shooting people in shopping center parking lots and gas stations. Reflecting on that tragedy, I wrote:

“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.”

Somewhere in the middle of reading that paragraph I felt a cold chill as my mind migrated north from a parking lot in Washington DC to an elementary school in Newtown, Connecticut. For weeks now I have been wondering whether I should write something about the massacre that occurred in Sandy Hook on that cold December morning, but honestly, I have been at a loss for words, trying to make sense of yet another “random, senseless act of violence.”

With Sandy Hook Elementary School on my mind, I continued reading my post from three months ago:

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.

Reading that paragraph, I realized what it was that I wanted, needed, to write about.

This post is not a commentary on what happened the morning of December 14th, in Newtown, Connecticut; it’s about what’s happening all across the country now. Gun control has taken center stage in public and political discourse. Those in favor of greater gun restrictions have proclaimed the need to prevent such a tragedy from ever happening again, while those against changing the gun laws have insisted on the need to defend the Constitution and our Second Amendment right to bear arms.

Seriously? Do those trying to take the moral high ground of defending the Constitution seriously believe this is a Second Amendment issue? And do those fighting for increased gun control seriously think that they can prevent this kind of tragedy from happening again?

Folks, let’s be honest with ourselves; this frenzy over gun control is largely a reaction to our illusion of control being shattered.

In the days after Sandy Hook, social media channels were flooded with concerned parents panicking over whether or not they should send their children back to school (as if the world had just become a dangerous place). And once the issue of gun control was raised, gun advocates started to lose their minds, sensing that their control was being threatened because “Big Brother” might take away their guns and their God-given right to buy and sell semi-automatic weapons.

So, what’s my point?

My point is that we as a society are obsessed with the illusion of control, and when tragedy strikes, we’re more interested in trying to restore that illusion than in honestly assessing and dealing with the problem.

Let’s take the shooting at Sandy Hook for example. We want to believe that access to guns is the problem, and we want to read a moving article like I am Adam Lanza’s Mother and think that addressing mental illness is the solution. Gun control and mental illness may be issues that we need to address, but they are not the foundational problem that’s killing our nation.

The foundational problem in America is that we believe that we are each entitled to control our own destiny and that “nobody has the right to tell me what to do.” In the case of Adam Lanza, we don’t know what motivated him to do what he did on the morning of December 14th, but I am convinced that beneath his motivation was the belief that his actions would somehow place him in a position of power and give him the control that he thought he was entitled to have. I further believe the same is true for the majority of people who have taken matters into their own hands over the past few decades, opening fire in their high schools, places of work, and public venues. The difference between those individual and the rest of society is that they were each detached from their conscience and unable to comprehend the gravity of their actions.

But are we as society any different than Adam Lanza? Have we as a society detached ourselves from our collective conscience and can no longer comprehend the gravity of our actions?

While the rich continue to insist that they’re entitled to keep more of their money, and the poor believe they’re entitled to more public assistance, and the sick feel entitled to unlimited health-care coverage, and the aging expect social security to support them until they die (even if modern technology allows them to live for another 100 years), our nation has dropped off a “fiscal cliff.” We are spending trillions of dollars that we don’t have, and while this is all happening, Republican and Democrats are fighting for control of Congress and the country, more interested in supporting the causes of their campaign donors and getting re-elected than in representing their constituents.

We have lost our collective conscience!

Just think for a moment about what we do on the day after Thanksgiving—the day after giving thanks for all the blessings that we have. On that day—Black Friday—we spend more money than any other day of the year, and we literally trample over each other buying stuff we really don’t need because we think we’re entitled to it. It’s insane! We have become so obsessed with our individual right to life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness that we are unable to comprehend the gravity—the insanity—of our actions. So instead of looking the problem in the face when a massacre like Sandy Hook occurs, we kid ourselves into thinking the solution to the problem is as easy as gun control and a national campaign to address mental illness.

Seriously, is that what we really believe?

When will we be honest with ourselves? When will we stop chasing the illusion of control? When will we stop indulging our entitlements at the cost of bankrupting our nation and killing the next generation? And when will we stop trampling and shooting anyone who stands in the way of our controlling our own destiny?

We might not like it, and we might not want to admit it, but we are Adam Lanza.

And we need to get help before it’s too late.

Filed Under: Uncategorized // Tagged: , , , , , ,

Friends Don’t Let Friends Be “That Guy”

Posted on November 9, 2012 // Leave a Comment

Nobody likes “that guy.” You know, “that guy”—the person who breaks social etiquette by saying or doing something awkward, inappropriate, or downright stupid; you know, the guy who drives 55 mph in the left lane when traffic is flowing at 70, the guy who wears enough cologne to make grandma say, “Damn!”, and the drunk guy who gets too loud at a party. Yeah, that guy. Nobody likes “that guy.” In fact, most people don’t even like being friends with that guy; it’s embarrassing.

Unfortunately, all of us, from time to time, are “that guy.” I’ve been “that guy” who holds up traffic at a tollbooth as I desperately search for 50 cents in a change compartment full of pennies; I’ve been “that guy” who makes off-color jokes at a dinner party that makes everyone cringe; and once I was even “that guy” who asked a woman how far along she was in her pregnancy when she wasn’t even pregnant!

Being “that guy” is awful and it feels terrible, which is why we sometimes struggle to admit when we’re being “that guy.” But the only thing worse than being “that guy” is being “that guy” who refuses to admit when he’s being “that guy.”  Now “that guy” is a self-righteous ass; that’s the guy who insists that he didn’t say anything inappropriate, and that’s the guy who never does anything wrong.

As much as I hate to admit it, I can be “that guy.” I sometimes ask, “What did I say?” when I’ve clearly said something I shouldn’t have, and “What did I do?” when I’ve done something wrong. Fortunately, however, there are people in my life who don’t let me get away with it. I have friends who tell me when I’m being “that guy” and insist that I’m being an ass when I try to deny it. I’m grateful for those friends because, without them, I eventually wouldn’t have any friends at all.

I write about “that guy” because ever since the presidential election came to an end, “that guy” has been showing up everywhere—television, radio, and every form of social media—arguing that Romney was the better candidate, the more righteous candidate, and that he should have won the election. Nobody likes “that guy”—the poor sport who every time his team loses has some sort of reason or excuse for why they lost or why they deserved to win. Whether he’s willing to admit it or not, “that guy” is unable to be a gracious loser because he has a superiority complex and, therefore, tends to cry foul and pout like a petulant child when things don’t go his way.

Since the election, however, “that guy” has not only been the poor sport who can’t lose with grace, “that guy” has also been the poor sport who can’t win with class. As much as he might try to restrain himself, “that guy” can’t help but gloat with self-righteous indignation, rubbing the losers’ faces in it.

So here’s the bottom line: in the aftermath of the presidential election, “that guy” is showing up everywhere, and although it’s easier to just keep your distance, if “that guy” is your friend, you might want to let him know that he’s being an ass, because in the end, nobody wants to be friends with “that guy.”

Filed Under: Uncategorized //

Hurricane Sandy Hits Home

Posted on November 2, 2012 // Leave a Comment

Hurricane Sandy hits home for me—really close to home. I grew up on Sandy Lane, forty minutes from the sandy beaches that hurricane Sandy pounded a few days ago. For me and millions of other people, the Jersey shore is synonymous with summer. Whether your family took day-trips to a local beach or week-long vacations on LBI, the Jersey shore has been a second home for many of us, a home that has been washed away. The boardwalk at Seaside Heights—our teenage playground on cool summer nights—is gone. And now, in the calm after the storm, instead of hearing the click, click, click of wheels spinning on the boardwalk, silence hovers over mile after mile of debris.

We are, however, resilient creatures. Soon the buzz of chainsaws and the rumble of bulldozers will fill the air as we start cleaning up the mess. In a few months the crack of hammers driving nails into plywood will echo up and down the coast. And before we know it, the click, click, click will be back on the boardwalk again. In the end, the Jersey shore will be bigger and better than ever before, and we will unconsciously thumb our noses at the forces of nature, proclaiming our resolve to build and rebuild whatever we want, wherever we want.

This post, though, is not about our resiliency or our ability to transcend our differences and come together for a common cause (although that makes for a nice story). This post is about the small window of time between the end of a disaster and the beginning of recovery—a window through which we catch a glimpse of reality and are reminded of what it means to be human.

You see, in the calm after the storm we stare in disbelief, trying to wrap our minds around the landscape of destruction. In surveying the wreckage we are overwhelmed by the reality of how small we truly are. This realization can be unnerving, causing some to scurry, frantically trying to “fix it,” hoping to regain the illusion of control; while for others, this realization is a helpful reminder that we are only human and that we are never, ever, truly in control. This humbling realization is what causes people to thank God after surviving a natural disaster, and why, for at least a few days, their hugs are a little tighter, their kisses last a little longer, and their words, “I love you,” flow with a little more heart.

So if Hurricane Sandy pounding the Jersey shore hits home for you, I would like to encourage you to visit the coastline sometime in the next few months—before it’s bigger and better—because it will never be the same. And if you’re able to look across the landscape of destruction and get past the unnerving realization of how small you truly are, I promise you’ll gain a renewed sense of what it means to be human: you’ll reminisce about the good times you’ve had there in the past, you’ll be grateful for the life you have today, and you’ll look forward to the memories yet to come.

Filed Under: Uncategorized //

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: , , , , ,