On one of our local radio stations, they regularly ask people to message in their answers to a question they pose on a random topic. Yesterday the question was about car guards. Car guards are, I think, a uniquely South African thing.
They are people who guard cars from vandals, help with pushing your trolley and loading your shopping into your car, and try to direct you out of the parking bay as you reverse (usually standing in the way of the car and being a danger to themselves, in my experience) in exchange for whatever spare cash you may have. They may also offer a car washing service if they are particularly proactive. They are usually part of the informal sector - i.e. they appoint themselves - and some are not much more than glorified beggars. In the worst case scenarios, if you fail to tip them, they scratch your car as you drive away. Because of their nuisance factor, over the last decade or so many shopping centres have started appointing their own car guards, who have official bibs to identify them.
The radio station’s question was what people thought of car guards - were they offering a useful service, or were they just a nuisance? I was surprised that over 80% of those who called or messaged the studio were in favor of them. I have an intense dislike of them - not of any particular individual, just of having to be hassled by people whose services I neither desire nor need. I don’t know whether people who feel the way I do simply didn’t air their opinion, or whether that straw poll indicates that I am very much out of step with popular opinion, but it got me thinking about things.
I realized that it’s not just car guards that I dislike. I have a natural suspicion about people, bar a few circumstances. Sadly, I realized that my instinctual reaction to people is that they are out to get something from me, or to harm me in some way, so I walk around with a heightened background “noise” of suspicion, fear and anger towards others.
This is not how Jesus calls us to live - he calls us to love everyone - even our enemies. So how do I reconcile my seemingly innate reactions with this call on my life? I started by trying to determine why it is that I feel the way I do about people. I don’t know that I have a complete understanding yet, but I definitely found a few pointers.
Growing up under Apartheid, I imbibed the lie about the “swart gevaar”. Strangers, particularly those of colour (who, let’s be honest, are the only car guards I’ve seen). The lie is that “those people” ARE out to get me, and will not only steal from me at the first opportunity, but are also looking for ways to kill me. Of course, there is also the massive discrepancy between me, someone who HAS (a job, a car, a brick house that easily accommodates my family, sanitation and plumbing in said house, electricity, a university education, food in my cupboards/ fridge/ freezer), and those beggars and car guards, who are part of the populace of HAVE NOTS in the country. Faced with them on a daily basis is emotionally exhausting as I try to hold back my white guilt so that I’m not perpetually overwhelmed. Displaying anger (whether in tone of voice, or body/ facial language) is a pretty good way to make people keep their distance from you. Just don’t make eye contact....
I also have a strong reaction to adverts and salespeople - they really are out to get something from me. Somehow my assumption when anyone stops me (in the shopping centre, at the traffic lights, etc.) is that they are either a salesperson, or worse. I’m not sure where this comes from, but it’s a pretty strong reaction - even to print adverts, or adverts at the start of videos on YouTube, or in the side banners on social media. I think it’s a reaction to the feeling that I’m being manipulated in some way, because I’m generally quite ornery when I think I’m being manipulated or told what to think/ do/ feel.
Thinking back on just today, it occurred to me that working with teenagers is probably also a contributing factor. Teenagers are constantly pushing the boundaries, and can be very confrontational. As I deal with a lot of discipline issues on a daily basis (I’m a grade head and manage the school’s discipline admin), I guess that I have become hardened and assume that any interaction I am going to have with a student is going to be one of confrontation, where I’m on the receiving end of a lot of aggression; not to mention that my assumption is always that I’m being lied to all the time, because much of the time I am being lied to.
Even knowing all of this, I think there is a deeper issue at play here though: selfishness. I have always been a selfish, greedy person. So, I suppose that my suspicion of others stems, ultimately, from my selfishness. I don’t want anyone else to take my stuff, or even get what might potentially be mine one day. While outwardly I applaud the success of others, inwardly my jealousy seethes - why them and not me? This is me at my ugliest, and most unsanctified. This is the person Jesus came to save and redeem. In his words - it’s not the healthy who need a doctor: it’s the sick!
I was sick and dying in my sin, in my selfishness, in my hatred and anger and fear, BUT JESUS stepped into history to save me. Thank God! That’s not to say that, now that I’m saved, I’m perfect or have everything sorted. Far from it! But at least now I have hope that as I grapple with the ugly side of me, I will find freedom. I will be set free from the worst of me. Not only is there grace to cover me, but there is love that will transform me, from one degree of glory to the next. Even as I identify the evil in my heart, already God has reached out to help me deal with it, if I will but grasp His hand. I doubt this is something that will be fixed overnight. Rather, I think this is part of an on-going conversation I’ll be having with God, and that the healing will be gradual.
Showing posts with label sin. Show all posts
Showing posts with label sin. Show all posts
Friday, September 14, 2018
Thursday, September 12, 2013
We're all human in the end
With the anniversary of 9/11 occurring yesterday, I think many people's hearts have been, or are, in a reflective state, possibly even a sad state. I know mine is. I've been thinking a lot about 9/11 recently - not just about my reaction to the events, but about those who lost loved ones, about those who died.
I heard an interesting interview on Smile 90.4 FM yesterday, with a man who has put together a collection of interviews with those bereaved by 9/11 - telling their stories of trying to carry on with their lives. He shared one story, of a photographer (or possibly the gallery owner, I can't remember now) who had an exhibition of photographs from 9/11 as a memorial event. One photo was of a person jumping from the tower, one leg still in the window and one out. A woman came to view the exhibition.
When she stood before this particular photo, she started screaming so hysterically that the photographer/ gallery owner closed the gallery and went to her aid. He apologised, saying that he never intended the photo to cause such extreme pain in the viewers. Once she was able to speak, she informed him that the man in the photo was her husband, and that she had never known how he died.
Now, every year, this woman comes to stand outside the gallery when this particular photo is exhibited as part of the memorial events. She won't actually step inside and view the exhibition, but she's always there. When I heard that story, I burst into tears. Can you imagine... never knowing, and then finding out like that? The truth might not have been easier to deal with....
Over the weekend I finished reading a book that was a thought experiment - a (fictional) account of a person killed in 9/11. It's the story of a father who took his two young sons for breakfast in the restaurant at the top of one of the towers. They get trapped, so cannot escape down the tower. The younger child dies from burns, while the father and the older child die by jumping from the tower.
I didn't particularly enjoy the style of the book (and not just because of the horrific nature of the subject material), but it got me thinking, once again, about what it must be like to be faced with such a dilemma - to choose the manner of one's death. I can only imagine how terrible and terrifying it must be to have to choose between burning to death or jumping to your death, especially to have to make that choice for one's children....
I've been thinking about the bombers too, especially in the wake of the US rumblings about a strike on Syria and the way that has raised the issue again of the recent wars by the US. While I do not condone what the bombers did, in any way (and I want to make that blatantly clear), I do have to wonder at the reaction of the western public to them. I did not lose anyone in that tragedy, and I was far removed from it, and maybe that's why I did not feel the tremendous anger that others in the US did. If I had lost a mother, father, sibling, relation, friend, or child to the World Trade Centre collapse, maybe I too would have felt anger.
But anger enough to want to kill another human being?
While I fundamentally disagree with the teachings of Islam on many points, I am amazed by the passion, belief and desperation that was demonstrated by the bombers. How angry? hate-filled? desperate? must those bombers have been to hijack and fly those planes into the towers? What was going through their heads?
Whatever their beliefs, and however atrocious their actions, they were human beings too. Of course, I can afford to show mercy because I lost no-one in that tragedy. How we react to the bombers though should be the same way we react when we talk about the atrocities committed in the name of Christianity during the Crusades, or the Spanish Inquisition, or the Salem witch hunt. Here were people, supposedly good, Christian people, who got swept up in the emotion of something, brain-washed by a few (greedy? misdirected? power-hungry? truly evil?) individuals. Maybe most of them went along with it out of fear for what might happen to them, or those they loved, if they refused, or if they were to speak out against it. In the same way, during WW2 many Germans were not really Nazis: they went along with the tide because it was too dangerous to swim against it.
People are all human. While the actions of some may be heinous, is it not the responsibility of every human to respond with compassion? I'm not saying we let anyone get away with anything - we must suffer the consequences of our actions after all. Yet, is there not a way to show compassion while ensuring that justice is done? Is hatred really the only, or the right, response in such circumstances?
I don't know whether you've been following the news recently, but there was an horrific crash in the Pinetown area. A truck, travelling along a notorious stretch of road, plowed into 4 minibus taxis and a car (killing 22 people), when its brakes failed coming down the hill. The driver is a young man from Swaziland.
It's an horrific story, and my heart breaks for those bereaved in this accident. As one family member said - whatever happens to the truck driver, it will not bring his father back. And he's right. The natural route for grief is to find someone, or something, to blame. I did exactly that when Zoe died, and because there was no-one to blame, I got even more angry with God than I was initially. Yet, that anger only served to isolate me further.
The truck driver is only human. He didn't deliberately make the brakes fail. He didn't deliberately set-out to take the lives of 22 others. His life has been destroyed by this event as much as those who lost family members and loved ones.
He probably needs to go to jail, to serve a sentence for killing 22 people, yet I am so pleased so say that if he does, he will be surrounded by compassion as he does. The actions of one woman have resulted in a support group for him on Facebook with about 3000 members at the time of writing this post. Members of the public have donated clothes and food and other items to him while he's awaiting trial. The messages of support on the group (which are being printed out for him to read) have already begun a healing work in his life, as he realises that many people have compassion towards him, rather than hatred and anger.
We are all human. We all make mistakes. We all mess up. More - we are all so broken, in so many ways, that we wind up doing things that cause hurt to others. We sin, and because we sin, we actually all deserve the same punishment - death. It is because of that I dare not stand and point a finger at another. I am in the same boat as that truck driver. I am no better or worse than the 9/11 bombers. There, but for the grace of God, go I.
Everyone needs compassion...
I heard an interesting interview on Smile 90.4 FM yesterday, with a man who has put together a collection of interviews with those bereaved by 9/11 - telling their stories of trying to carry on with their lives. He shared one story, of a photographer (or possibly the gallery owner, I can't remember now) who had an exhibition of photographs from 9/11 as a memorial event. One photo was of a person jumping from the tower, one leg still in the window and one out. A woman came to view the exhibition.
When she stood before this particular photo, she started screaming so hysterically that the photographer/ gallery owner closed the gallery and went to her aid. He apologised, saying that he never intended the photo to cause such extreme pain in the viewers. Once she was able to speak, she informed him that the man in the photo was her husband, and that she had never known how he died.
Now, every year, this woman comes to stand outside the gallery when this particular photo is exhibited as part of the memorial events. She won't actually step inside and view the exhibition, but she's always there. When I heard that story, I burst into tears. Can you imagine... never knowing, and then finding out like that? The truth might not have been easier to deal with....
Over the weekend I finished reading a book that was a thought experiment - a (fictional) account of a person killed in 9/11. It's the story of a father who took his two young sons for breakfast in the restaurant at the top of one of the towers. They get trapped, so cannot escape down the tower. The younger child dies from burns, while the father and the older child die by jumping from the tower.
I didn't particularly enjoy the style of the book (and not just because of the horrific nature of the subject material), but it got me thinking, once again, about what it must be like to be faced with such a dilemma - to choose the manner of one's death. I can only imagine how terrible and terrifying it must be to have to choose between burning to death or jumping to your death, especially to have to make that choice for one's children....
I've been thinking about the bombers too, especially in the wake of the US rumblings about a strike on Syria and the way that has raised the issue again of the recent wars by the US. While I do not condone what the bombers did, in any way (and I want to make that blatantly clear), I do have to wonder at the reaction of the western public to them. I did not lose anyone in that tragedy, and I was far removed from it, and maybe that's why I did not feel the tremendous anger that others in the US did. If I had lost a mother, father, sibling, relation, friend, or child to the World Trade Centre collapse, maybe I too would have felt anger.
But anger enough to want to kill another human being?
While I fundamentally disagree with the teachings of Islam on many points, I am amazed by the passion, belief and desperation that was demonstrated by the bombers. How angry? hate-filled? desperate? must those bombers have been to hijack and fly those planes into the towers? What was going through their heads?
Whatever their beliefs, and however atrocious their actions, they were human beings too. Of course, I can afford to show mercy because I lost no-one in that tragedy. How we react to the bombers though should be the same way we react when we talk about the atrocities committed in the name of Christianity during the Crusades, or the Spanish Inquisition, or the Salem witch hunt. Here were people, supposedly good, Christian people, who got swept up in the emotion of something, brain-washed by a few (greedy? misdirected? power-hungry? truly evil?) individuals. Maybe most of them went along with it out of fear for what might happen to them, or those they loved, if they refused, or if they were to speak out against it. In the same way, during WW2 many Germans were not really Nazis: they went along with the tide because it was too dangerous to swim against it.
People are all human. While the actions of some may be heinous, is it not the responsibility of every human to respond with compassion? I'm not saying we let anyone get away with anything - we must suffer the consequences of our actions after all. Yet, is there not a way to show compassion while ensuring that justice is done? Is hatred really the only, or the right, response in such circumstances?
I don't know whether you've been following the news recently, but there was an horrific crash in the Pinetown area. A truck, travelling along a notorious stretch of road, plowed into 4 minibus taxis and a car (killing 22 people), when its brakes failed coming down the hill. The driver is a young man from Swaziland.
It's an horrific story, and my heart breaks for those bereaved in this accident. As one family member said - whatever happens to the truck driver, it will not bring his father back. And he's right. The natural route for grief is to find someone, or something, to blame. I did exactly that when Zoe died, and because there was no-one to blame, I got even more angry with God than I was initially. Yet, that anger only served to isolate me further.
The truck driver is only human. He didn't deliberately make the brakes fail. He didn't deliberately set-out to take the lives of 22 others. His life has been destroyed by this event as much as those who lost family members and loved ones.
He probably needs to go to jail, to serve a sentence for killing 22 people, yet I am so pleased so say that if he does, he will be surrounded by compassion as he does. The actions of one woman have resulted in a support group for him on Facebook with about 3000 members at the time of writing this post. Members of the public have donated clothes and food and other items to him while he's awaiting trial. The messages of support on the group (which are being printed out for him to read) have already begun a healing work in his life, as he realises that many people have compassion towards him, rather than hatred and anger.
We are all human. We all make mistakes. We all mess up. More - we are all so broken, in so many ways, that we wind up doing things that cause hurt to others. We sin, and because we sin, we actually all deserve the same punishment - death. It is because of that I dare not stand and point a finger at another. I am in the same boat as that truck driver. I am no better or worse than the 9/11 bombers. There, but for the grace of God, go I.
Everyone needs compassion...
Sunday, September 01, 2013
Storms
I often find that when I'm low, physically, I feel low emotionally too. When I'm stressed, or tired, or sick, I wind up saying and doing things I wouldn't otherwise do - things that often hurt others. It's like the filter in my brain gets switched off, and instead of really thinking about what I'm doing, I react immediately to things - and often, my first reaction is the wrong one.
Given how stressed and sick I've been recently, I'm sure you can imagine some of the stuff ups I've made. I'm still fairly sure that with one of the colossal mistakes I've made in recent weeks I've burnt bridges which will never be fully restored.
Which brings me to Paul's reflections in Romans 7:15. I do not understand what I do. For what I want to do I do not do, but what I hate I do. Every fibre of my being resonates with Paul's sentiments. I hate what I do. I hate that I can't do the good that I want to do. I don't understand why I can't just do what Jesus teaches, why I often do the EXACT opposite. I don't understand why, when I know how to be pure, good, loving, faithful, kind, generous, peaceful, lovely, and all the other holy attributes, the core from which my emotions overflow continues to be selfish, angry, hate-filled, arrogant, mean-spirited, jealous, and all the other evil attributes.
As I reflect on my actions, I find myself turning to self-loathing. In the very core of my being there is rottenness, evil, horrible filth. I wonder afresh at how anyone could really love me, when inside of me lurks this horrid monster that apparently cannot be tamed, that apparently has not been changed by the love of God, that rears its head when I am most vulnerable, hurting those around me (and myself). I wonder afresh at whether the world would not be a better place if I were no longer in it*. I find myself thinking, once again, that I would be better off if I were not in this world - because by dying, I would no longer have to struggle with this resident evil. Hopelessness surrounds me, because I cannot see how things will EVER be different, how this fundamental portion of my being can EVER be fixed, changed, redeemed, set free.
We're doing a series in church at the moment, looking at the different religions that are followed in Cape Town. It's called "Coexist", and if you're interested in that kind of thing, then I'd recommend you check out these talks... very powerful while being respectful. There are several things about Christianity that I believe make it unique. One of those things is grace.
Grace is something VERY hard to grasp, let alone to appropriate. Grace is the unmerited favour of God. It is completely scandalous; it's offensive to the core. If some part of you doesn't find it offensive, then you probably haven't understood it properly. (For an explanation of why it is scandalous and offensive, you might want to read this blog post.)
Back in 2004 the movie 'The Passion of the Christ' (directed by Mel Gibson) was released. I went to see it with a girlfriend. When I came out, I had gouged my palms with my nails in the (unsuccessful) attempt to control my emotions. I walked out of that movie with one lasting, overarching impression: How could I be worth the price that God was willing to pay? I can't comprehend why God was willing to pay such an extravagant price for me, when I am clearly so unworthy. In comparison to his glory, even the very best parts of me, the person I most strive to be - even THIS part of me is like excrement-covered rags next to him.
Grace.
In times like this, when I'm feeling incredibly low, and hopeless, it is the grace of God I cling to. I have stuffed up, and done a pretty good job of that too. Yet, as I turn to him and confess how wretched I am, I hear his voice speaking words of comfort to me. "I did this all for YOU because I love YOU and YOU are worth this price to me. Your sin is not the end of the story. You sin is not what defines you. I am what defines you. I am the end of your story."
Grace.
Thank God for grace.
____________________________________________________________
*I should point out that I was suicidal years before. There is a vast difference between how desperate I felt then and how I feel now. I can assure you that I'm nowhere near that level now, and I'm not about to try to kill myself.
Given how stressed and sick I've been recently, I'm sure you can imagine some of the stuff ups I've made. I'm still fairly sure that with one of the colossal mistakes I've made in recent weeks I've burnt bridges which will never be fully restored.
Which brings me to Paul's reflections in Romans 7:15. I do not understand what I do. For what I want to do I do not do, but what I hate I do. Every fibre of my being resonates with Paul's sentiments. I hate what I do. I hate that I can't do the good that I want to do. I don't understand why I can't just do what Jesus teaches, why I often do the EXACT opposite. I don't understand why, when I know how to be pure, good, loving, faithful, kind, generous, peaceful, lovely, and all the other holy attributes, the core from which my emotions overflow continues to be selfish, angry, hate-filled, arrogant, mean-spirited, jealous, and all the other evil attributes.
As I reflect on my actions, I find myself turning to self-loathing. In the very core of my being there is rottenness, evil, horrible filth. I wonder afresh at how anyone could really love me, when inside of me lurks this horrid monster that apparently cannot be tamed, that apparently has not been changed by the love of God, that rears its head when I am most vulnerable, hurting those around me (and myself). I wonder afresh at whether the world would not be a better place if I were no longer in it*. I find myself thinking, once again, that I would be better off if I were not in this world - because by dying, I would no longer have to struggle with this resident evil. Hopelessness surrounds me, because I cannot see how things will EVER be different, how this fundamental portion of my being can EVER be fixed, changed, redeemed, set free.
Grace is something VERY hard to grasp, let alone to appropriate. Grace is the unmerited favour of God. It is completely scandalous; it's offensive to the core. If some part of you doesn't find it offensive, then you probably haven't understood it properly. (For an explanation of why it is scandalous and offensive, you might want to read this blog post.)
Back in 2004 the movie 'The Passion of the Christ' (directed by Mel Gibson) was released. I went to see it with a girlfriend. When I came out, I had gouged my palms with my nails in the (unsuccessful) attempt to control my emotions. I walked out of that movie with one lasting, overarching impression: How could I be worth the price that God was willing to pay? I can't comprehend why God was willing to pay such an extravagant price for me, when I am clearly so unworthy. In comparison to his glory, even the very best parts of me, the person I most strive to be - even THIS part of me is like excrement-covered rags next to him.
I particularly wonder about this incredible love at times like this, when I have messed up YET again. Why does God put up with me, when time and time again, I fail to learn the lessons, when I repeat the mistakes of the past, and let Him, myself and everyone around me down again? I am completely perplexed by his long-suffering patience with me, by his deep, abiding passion for me. What on earth does he see in me? I marvel at how a perfect God could love such an imperfect creation as myself, and not just love me, but love me enough to be willing to suffer ALL THAT.
Grace.
In times like this, when I'm feeling incredibly low, and hopeless, it is the grace of God I cling to. I have stuffed up, and done a pretty good job of that too. Yet, as I turn to him and confess how wretched I am, I hear his voice speaking words of comfort to me. "I did this all for YOU because I love YOU and YOU are worth this price to me. Your sin is not the end of the story. You sin is not what defines you. I am what defines you. I am the end of your story."
Grace.
Thank God for grace.
____________________________________________________________
*I should point out that I was suicidal years before. There is a vast difference between how desperate I felt then and how I feel now. I can assure you that I'm nowhere near that level now, and I'm not about to try to kill myself.
Tuesday, August 27, 2013
Say WHAT?
I was as gobsmacked as they were.
If you missed the news this morning, you didn't miss anything, really. Miley Cyrus strutted her stuff on stage, in a nude-coloured bikini - while being totally sexually explicit.
I was horrified though, for several reasons. Let me count them for you.
- Her antics were broadcast while my kids were with me, watching breakfast TV. (Now is not the time to have the discussion about whether kids should be a) watching TV at all, b) watching TV while eating, c) watching the news.) I usually screen what my kids watch - I don't even like them watching violent cartoons. Yet, here - WITH NO WARNING about adult content beforehand, my kids got a serious dose of sexually explicit content. I am not impressed, SABC.
- What message is she sending to career women? To me, it says that the only way to be taken seriously as a professional, as a woman, is to take off all your clothes in public, and behave like a slut.
- What message is it sending to all the millions of young girls who idolise her? It's like the whole '50 Shades of Grey' thing all over again. This sexually explicit behaviour is not normal. Yet, our teens are being fed a constant diet of acceptance of aberrant behaviour. If you want to behave like that, fine, but do it in the privacy of your home. I still believe that sex is beautiful, but private. It's not something we splash across the front page of the news.
- More people (myself included) are talking about this, rather than... oh I don't know - a million other issues. I mean, we could be talking about the troubles in Syria right now, where a country stands poised on the brink of a serious ethnic cleansing. We could be talking about Marikana and Lonmin. We could be talking about the impact of rising fuel costs on the food security of South Africa's (and indeed, the world's) most poor. We could be talking about the ongoing persecution of Tibetan Buddahists, or the ongoing Christian martyrdom in the East. We could be talking about the 11cm of snow (!!!) predicted to fall on Table Mountain this weekend and the impact of climate change on our endangered fynbos. We could be talking about SO many other things, yet instead we're all talking about Miley's antics.
But how tragic that her atrocious behaviour should cause more outrage than the other topics I mentioned above. Clearly there are some sins that we regard as worse than others. The fact that people in Syria are killing each other is not as morally abhorrent to us as Miley's actions on the stage last night. Clearly, sexually explicit behaviour is worse than taking a life.
Now, again, don't misunderstand me. We need to have the conversation about the implications of Ms Cyrus' actions. We need to talk about the message it has sent to young girls, to the general public, about women and the role they hold in society. That is a very important discussion. And maybe this is the time for it, I don't know.
BUT
Shouldn't we be just as morally outraged by the number of children who are addicted to Tik on the Cape Flats?
Shouldn't we be just as morally outraged by the gang violence that last week saw several schools on the Cape Flats being closed?
Shouldn't we be just as morally outraged by the ongoing corruption in government?
Shouldn't we be just as morally outraged by the number of people sleeping rough in parks and under bridges every night?
Shouldn't we be just as morally outraged by ... and the list goes on. And on. And on.
How is it that we have become so desensitized to some sins, but not to others?
I don't have an answer, and I am just as guilty. The fact that I'm writing this blog post, rather than one about the school closures last week, or whatever, means I'm just as guilty.
And yet another problem is that by the weekend, no-one will really care. There will be some other hot topic to talk about - in CT that will probably be the frightful cold and snow predicted to fall on Table Mountain. By the time the weekend rolls around, people will have moved on. News happens so fast, and there is SO MUCH of it now that we are a global village, that one is simply overwhelmed by the barrage of issues to care about.
I do care about what is happening in Syria. I don't know what I can do though, except maybe to pray (not that prayer is a small thing!). I do care about the school closures, but again, what can I do about it? I do care about the kids on tik, but what can I do about it, particularly as a whitey? I do care about so many different issues, but if I was to give myself to all of them, I would either spend my life curled up in a little ball, sobbing on the floor all the time, or I would be dead from emotional exhaustion.
Maybe the trick is to find ONE THING to care about. Maybe if we all got a download from God about one issue he wanted each of us to tackle, then all the issues would get covered, and fixed.
But how DO we respond to a world that is broken and crying out for healing?
I'm busy teaching a section to the Gd 11s on the 'Human Impact on the Environment' at the moment. We look at water availability, water quality, food security, pollution, climate change, solid waste treatment, etc. It is potentially a hard-hitting section. This is the section in which we can turn our kids into Eco Warriors, if we wanted. It definitely is an area in which we get to talk about morals and ethics and all that good stuff.
Yet, I remember when I was at varsity, being taught about the evils of dams - how they destroy natural vegetation, even entire ecosystems; they disrupt the food chains and webs, they reduce biodiversity, they completely mess up EVERYTHING. I remember walking away from a 2 week block of lectures with an aching heart, coming home, and crying about it. I wept over the destruction that man has caused to this planet, all because of our greed. I wept at our blindness to see how we were only creating MORE problems for ourselves in the long run. I wept over the lost biodiversity, the fynbos species that we will never even know we lost because some of them might only have had a range that was smaller than the dam built over them. It sounds silly now, but back then, I can't even begin to tell you how heavily it weighed upon my soul. We are supposed to be the custodians of the earth, after all.
Then, just as clearly, I remember thinking to myself that if this was how much it affected me, I simply could not walk around thinking about it any more. I assigned my grief and pain at the impact of humans to a little box that I have never really dared to look at again. Because I felt so dis-empowered to fix the problem, or to do anything about it at all, I dare not allow myself to get emotionally involved with the problem.
I find myself reacting in a similar way now. I can't physically care about all the issues. I know I should be outraged by all of them. I know I should be on my knees beseeching God to INTERVENE in all of them. I know I should be lobbying my local counsellor, raising awareness, fighting the good fight, ... But I can't, and I don't, because I've already had so much pain in my life I honestly can't bear the thought of actively opening myself up to any more.
And I think that's why so many people have reacted as they did to Miley's antics. Here's a quick 'little' issue we can all jump up and down about, yell and make a bit of noise about, and then congratulate ourselves that we are good people because we said something about it. Maybe that's an oversimplification. Maybe all the yelling and outrage is because it enables us to point fingers at someone else for a bit. If all it takes for evil to flourish is for good people to do nothing, then each of us is, in a greater or smaller measure responsible for all the evils of this world - climate change, intolerance of other's religious/ political views, pollution, poverty, etc.
It feels good to rant and rave about someone else's failings and mistakes. It's a lot harder to acknowledge that I am responsible for X or Y, and to take ownership of trying to fix it.
And maybe that's the lesson we learn from Miley - she's our scape goat, because we're too cowardly to own our sinfulness and really do something about it.
Sunday, April 28, 2013
Things my son has taught me
You know that site "Reasons my son is crying"? I love it! Love it! This morning, while Nathan was crying, I thought of it again.
Why was he crying? Sadly, for a reason not half as entertaining as the ones on that site. No, sadly, he had been rather naughty and was on a time out. He didn't want to be on a time out, and was (rather vociferously) informing the rest of the world about it.
With both of us being ill at the moment, it is tempting to let the kids run riot, but when we do, it always comes back to bite us. So, bravely, G had dealt with the issue and put Nathan on a time out. I was lying in bed, head spinning and sore, when the thought occurred to me: I wish there was a way to discipline the kids that didn't also hurt us.
Discipline is costly - every time I have to enforce boundaries with the kids, it costs me. It costs not just in energy, but in love. It hurts me to have to listen to my kids crying because they genuinely feel aggrieved by something - to hear them sob their little hearts out. But I do it because I love them, because I know that in the long run, it is better for them to learn the lesson now: they are not the centre of the world; they are part of a community and must learn to live lovingingly and peaceably in it; they can't always get what they want.
Failing to teach them these lessons will cause them untold harm in the real world. So we have to enforce the boundaries. Yet, it breaks my heart to see them in pain - even knowing that their pain is temporary and necessary.
In addition, it hurts me because it means the kids aren't listening to me, they aren't being obedient, they aren't being respectful.
And then it struck me - God is a parent. God disciplines his children. When he does, so often we focus on the pain we are feeling, and we forget that any discipline costs the parent too. Any discipline hurts the parent too, and how much more it must hurt the Ultimate Parent. Every time we sin, and it costs God. In fact, it cost him his life, ultimately. Instead of us having to go on the mother of all time-outs, he allowed himself to be tortured to death.
Even now though, when God needs to discipline me, it continues to cost him - in love.
And this is yet one more reason why I love my kids, why I am so grateful they are in my life, why they truly are a blessing from God - because in being their parent, I am taught lessons about God my father, and about being a child.
Why was he crying? Sadly, for a reason not half as entertaining as the ones on that site. No, sadly, he had been rather naughty and was on a time out. He didn't want to be on a time out, and was (rather vociferously) informing the rest of the world about it.
With both of us being ill at the moment, it is tempting to let the kids run riot, but when we do, it always comes back to bite us. So, bravely, G had dealt with the issue and put Nathan on a time out. I was lying in bed, head spinning and sore, when the thought occurred to me: I wish there was a way to discipline the kids that didn't also hurt us.
Discipline is costly - every time I have to enforce boundaries with the kids, it costs me. It costs not just in energy, but in love. It hurts me to have to listen to my kids crying because they genuinely feel aggrieved by something - to hear them sob their little hearts out. But I do it because I love them, because I know that in the long run, it is better for them to learn the lesson now: they are not the centre of the world; they are part of a community and must learn to live lovingingly and peaceably in it; they can't always get what they want.
Failing to teach them these lessons will cause them untold harm in the real world. So we have to enforce the boundaries. Yet, it breaks my heart to see them in pain - even knowing that their pain is temporary and necessary.
In addition, it hurts me because it means the kids aren't listening to me, they aren't being obedient, they aren't being respectful.
And then it struck me - God is a parent. God disciplines his children. When he does, so often we focus on the pain we are feeling, and we forget that any discipline costs the parent too. Any discipline hurts the parent too, and how much more it must hurt the Ultimate Parent. Every time we sin, and it costs God. In fact, it cost him his life, ultimately. Instead of us having to go on the mother of all time-outs, he allowed himself to be tortured to death.
Even now though, when God needs to discipline me, it continues to cost him - in love.
And this is yet one more reason why I love my kids, why I am so grateful they are in my life, why they truly are a blessing from God - because in being their parent, I am taught lessons about God my father, and about being a child.
Thursday, April 11, 2013
The sins of the fathers...
Every family has its weakness or weaknesses. Every family is imperfect. Every family is filled with sinners. The result? Every family winds up causing harm to themselves. Whether it's words that cut to the bone, rejecting and isolating one another, or physically harming one another, every family hurts themselves.
As I was driving home tonight, I was pondering the sins of the fathers being visited on the children. I was pondering how the sin in each of us causes us to hurt those we love, which in turn sets up cycles of pain, hurt, and violence, that continue on to the next generation.
"How innumerable are the sources of sorrow here [sorrow for the loss of property or friends; sorrow for disappointment, persecution, or care; sorrow over our sins, or sorrow that we love God so little, and serve him so unfaithfully; sorrow that we are sick, or that we must die]; how constant is it on the earth! Since the fall of man there has not been a day, an hour, a moment, in which this has not been a sorrowful world; there has not been a nation, a tribe - a city or a village - nay, not a family, where there has not been grief. There has been no individual who has been always perfectly happy. No one rises in the morning with any certainty that he may not end the day in grief; no one lies down at night with any assurance that it may not be a night of sorrow." Barnes' Notes on the Bible discussing Rev 21: 4
Being part of a blended family is not easy. At the best of times, it works really well. In other cases, you simply ignore one another and move on. In the worst of cases, you're unable to move on, unable to ignore them, and are constantly in battle with them. Blended families are anything but easy.
I've always struggled with finding my place within my family. Maybe it's because I'm the only child from my parents' marriage. All my siblings have their own full siblings. Not me. I only have half-siblings and step-siblings. Maybe it's just that I'm too self-absorbed. Maybe it's that in my heart of hearts I have a low self-esteem. Maybe this is something that every child struggles with, no matter which family they are in. Maybe it's none of those, or all of them. I don't know.
I can't just let go, close my heart to them, walk away. I love them too much. I want nothing more than to feel that I belong fully to this family. Yet, often I feel as if I've been deliberately excluded. It's probably not true, it's probably just a perception thing, but my perception is my reality. And it hurts.
For e.g. I will find out that several of the family are having a meal together, and we've not been invited. Looking at it rationally, I know that hosting the whole family for supper is a logistical nightmare. I know that therefore having meals in smaller groups is the best way for us to get together. I know that. But when I see that several of my siblings are there, and we haven't been invited (which happens from time to time, judging by the cars I see parked outside), it stings.
It stings when it seems that every effort on my part to spend time with my family is rebuffed. My requests are ignored, my messages go without a reply. When momentous family news occurs, I find out via the grapevine, third-hand. Maybe there are valid reasons for these things - genuine busy-ness, not getting my messages, or whatever, but that doesn't change the fact that how I perceive it is that I am being deliberately excluded.
We moved 6000 miles to be closer to home to be able to spend more time with the family, and to feel like we've been excluded like that... well, it hurts. What hurts more is that I worry my kids are being excluded. If the family has an issue with me which is causing them to exclude me, well, that's one thing, but for them to make my kids suffer as a result, to exclude my children because of their issues with me... that's feels unforgivable. Likewise, I feel that my nieces and nephews are also losing out - both on having their aunt and uncle around, but also on the relationships with their cousins.
As I was thinking about all this on my drive home this afternoon, initially I thought that I wouldn't have to face these issues if my folks hadn't got divorced the first time. Of course, in that case, I wouldn't be here either as they wouldn't have married each other! But then it struck me that I guess what I am really looking for is an Acts community. I want a family that does life together, that is a real community.
The sins of one generation really are visited on the subsequent generations - not because God is actively punishing the subsequent generations, but because the repercussions of sin are far-reaching. Sin, that penchant we all have for doing the wrong thing, or failing to do the right thing, results in the break down of community, of relationship. And breakdowns, break-ups, they hurt.
Jodi Picoult has made herself a fortune writing about this sort of thing. She excels in writing about how the sins of the fathers are visited on the children. Many of her novels are about the ways in which people have hurt one another, and the repercussions on family life. That sounds disparaging. I should point out that I love Jodi Picoult's books! I love both her style of writing and the topics she chooses as the themes for her books.
I was overwhelmed again by the pain of all this as I was driving home. In my heart, I found myself crying out to God to ask when this pain will end. In some ways, it feels like the grief of losing Zoe. It's not something that ever goes away. I guess one just learns to live around it, to find joy despite this pain. In many ways, I wish I didn't adore my family so much. It would make it so much easier to walk away and not care... Our family is broken, and the wrongness of it all tears at the very fabric of my soul.
Thank God for the Revelation passage (21:4). Thank God that there will come a day when this will all be a thing of the past, when all this will stop hurting, when my identity will be perfectly found in Jesus and the family that is the Church, when families will no longer be broken, when relationships will no longer flounder on the rocks of selfish sinfulness.
Maranatha! Today, more than most days, I want Jesus to return. I want this life to end. I want this pain to stop. For a while now, life has felt like I'm breathing treacle, and I want it to stop. I am often overwhelmed by the pain around me, by the destructive nature of humans (myself included!), by the way I see us tearing strips off each other, like some vicious dogs in a fight to the death. I just want it all to stop. I just want us all to be one big happy family, to just do the right thing, to just love each other, to see the bigger picture, to see the likeness of God in each other and respond to that.
Pie in the sky? No, I just ache for Jesus' return. I ache for the time when every knee will bow, and every tongue confess that Jesus is Lord, to the glory of God the Father, so that every tear will be wiped away, every hurt healed, and grief and death will be no more, when the pain of losing Zoe and the pain of my broken family, will be healed and will cease to exist, when this hole inside me is completely filled.
As I was driving home tonight, I was pondering the sins of the fathers being visited on the children. I was pondering how the sin in each of us causes us to hurt those we love, which in turn sets up cycles of pain, hurt, and violence, that continue on to the next generation.
"How innumerable are the sources of sorrow here [sorrow for the loss of property or friends; sorrow for disappointment, persecution, or care; sorrow over our sins, or sorrow that we love God so little, and serve him so unfaithfully; sorrow that we are sick, or that we must die]; how constant is it on the earth! Since the fall of man there has not been a day, an hour, a moment, in which this has not been a sorrowful world; there has not been a nation, a tribe - a city or a village - nay, not a family, where there has not been grief. There has been no individual who has been always perfectly happy. No one rises in the morning with any certainty that he may not end the day in grief; no one lies down at night with any assurance that it may not be a night of sorrow." Barnes' Notes on the Bible discussing Rev 21: 4
Being part of a blended family is not easy. At the best of times, it works really well. In other cases, you simply ignore one another and move on. In the worst of cases, you're unable to move on, unable to ignore them, and are constantly in battle with them. Blended families are anything but easy.
I've always struggled with finding my place within my family. Maybe it's because I'm the only child from my parents' marriage. All my siblings have their own full siblings. Not me. I only have half-siblings and step-siblings. Maybe it's just that I'm too self-absorbed. Maybe it's that in my heart of hearts I have a low self-esteem. Maybe this is something that every child struggles with, no matter which family they are in. Maybe it's none of those, or all of them. I don't know.
I can't just let go, close my heart to them, walk away. I love them too much. I want nothing more than to feel that I belong fully to this family. Yet, often I feel as if I've been deliberately excluded. It's probably not true, it's probably just a perception thing, but my perception is my reality. And it hurts.
For e.g. I will find out that several of the family are having a meal together, and we've not been invited. Looking at it rationally, I know that hosting the whole family for supper is a logistical nightmare. I know that therefore having meals in smaller groups is the best way for us to get together. I know that. But when I see that several of my siblings are there, and we haven't been invited (which happens from time to time, judging by the cars I see parked outside), it stings.
It stings when it seems that every effort on my part to spend time with my family is rebuffed. My requests are ignored, my messages go without a reply. When momentous family news occurs, I find out via the grapevine, third-hand. Maybe there are valid reasons for these things - genuine busy-ness, not getting my messages, or whatever, but that doesn't change the fact that how I perceive it is that I am being deliberately excluded.
We moved 6000 miles to be closer to home to be able to spend more time with the family, and to feel like we've been excluded like that... well, it hurts. What hurts more is that I worry my kids are being excluded. If the family has an issue with me which is causing them to exclude me, well, that's one thing, but for them to make my kids suffer as a result, to exclude my children because of their issues with me... that's feels unforgivable. Likewise, I feel that my nieces and nephews are also losing out - both on having their aunt and uncle around, but also on the relationships with their cousins.
As I was thinking about all this on my drive home this afternoon, initially I thought that I wouldn't have to face these issues if my folks hadn't got divorced the first time. Of course, in that case, I wouldn't be here either as they wouldn't have married each other! But then it struck me that I guess what I am really looking for is an Acts community. I want a family that does life together, that is a real community.
Jodi Picoult has made herself a fortune writing about this sort of thing. She excels in writing about how the sins of the fathers are visited on the children. Many of her novels are about the ways in which people have hurt one another, and the repercussions on family life. That sounds disparaging. I should point out that I love Jodi Picoult's books! I love both her style of writing and the topics she chooses as the themes for her books.
I was overwhelmed again by the pain of all this as I was driving home. In my heart, I found myself crying out to God to ask when this pain will end. In some ways, it feels like the grief of losing Zoe. It's not something that ever goes away. I guess one just learns to live around it, to find joy despite this pain. In many ways, I wish I didn't adore my family so much. It would make it so much easier to walk away and not care... Our family is broken, and the wrongness of it all tears at the very fabric of my soul.
Thank God for the Revelation passage (21:4). Thank God that there will come a day when this will all be a thing of the past, when all this will stop hurting, when my identity will be perfectly found in Jesus and the family that is the Church, when families will no longer be broken, when relationships will no longer flounder on the rocks of selfish sinfulness.
Maranatha! Today, more than most days, I want Jesus to return. I want this life to end. I want this pain to stop. For a while now, life has felt like I'm breathing treacle, and I want it to stop. I am often overwhelmed by the pain around me, by the destructive nature of humans (myself included!), by the way I see us tearing strips off each other, like some vicious dogs in a fight to the death. I just want it all to stop. I just want us all to be one big happy family, to just do the right thing, to just love each other, to see the bigger picture, to see the likeness of God in each other and respond to that.
Pie in the sky? No, I just ache for Jesus' return. I ache for the time when every knee will bow, and every tongue confess that Jesus is Lord, to the glory of God the Father, so that every tear will be wiped away, every hurt healed, and grief and death will be no more, when the pain of losing Zoe and the pain of my broken family, will be healed and will cease to exist, when this hole inside me is completely filled.
Saturday, July 30, 2011
"The final cut"
If you like SF movies at all, or philosophical ones, then this is an interesting movie to watch. It revolves around the concept of a brain implant before birth that records all your memories, everything you see and hear, which can be recovered when you die so that your life can be edited into a "rememory" for your family - to be able to remember all your best/ favourite memories. It initially took me aback that the software implant was called a 'Zoe'... but I managed to get beyond that.
The story revolves around a cutter (the person who edits the footage of your life) who is asked to do a particularly difficult job, and how what he sees in that person's memories sparks a series of events. The great philosophical debate of the movie is whether or not the implant (which is entirely voluntary, but is decided upon by parents on behalf their children, so is it really voluntary??) is an enfringement of a person's human rights, or not.
One of the questions arising out of the idea of such an implant is to what extent memories are personal things, only to be shared between the people involved. Cutters are not allowed to have the implant, because then everything they would see while cutting someone else's memories would be recorded in their own Zoe implant. One of the characters, whose ex-boyfriend had an implant that was recovered after his death, went crazy when she realised that a particular cutter, who was in an on-again/ off-again relationship with her, had seen the footage from her ex. Think about it - your most intimate moments with someone, seen by someone else... I'd be rather uncomfortable about that to say the least!
Something that wasn't touched on in the movie, but which I thought about, was whether the footage in such an implant could ethically have been used for criminal prosecution or not (post-humously, of course, but at least to solve crimes that would otherwise remain unsolved). It reminded me of 'Minority Report'.
The thing that really struck me though, was when a cutter commented about a girl who had behaved atriciously until such time as her parents told her about her implant. Overnight, she changed into a well-behaved, well-mannered person, but later went on to commit suicide, because she couldn't cope with the pressure of being perfect. The cutter then commented that it wasn't fair to anyone to know that every moment of their life would be open to anyone to view after they were dead.
It got me thinking. According to Christian theology, on Judgement Day, both the known deeds and the secret deeds, as well as the motives of the heart, for every person, will be made known, and judged. Essentially, this is a bit like the 'Zoe' implant of this movie, just even further reaching. There will come a day when EVERYTHING I've done and thought will be laid open and bare for all to see, and I will be judged accordingly.
While I know that those who have trusted in Jesus will be saved, we will still be judged. Our reward in heaven will be based upon our deeds and thoughts, so we can't act without impunity just because we are already a forgiven people.
That is both a scary and a comforting thought. I'm not looking forward to having everyone else know all my deep, dark, secret thoughts and motives. That's the truly terrifying bit. Every horrid thought I've ever had towards or about someone else, every moment of jealousy or hatred that has filled my heart, every sin of omission, every sin of commission - all my dirtiest laundry will be hung up for everyone to see. That's a pretty terrifying thought.
The comforting bit is that everyone else will be just as terrified, and (hopefully) so concerned with their own sins and failings that they won't care too much about the revelations from my my life. The other comforting thing about it is that EVERYONE will be judged.
While some get away (literally and figuratively) with murder in this life, there will be a day where they will be called to account for their actions - and there will be no plea bargaining on that day. Not only will they be named, they will be shamed. (Of course - this just goes to show you how skewed my practical beliefs about sin are. God views murder in the same light as telling a lie - but I don't - not in practice. Murder is a far worse crime, in my book.)
The protesters in 'The Final Cut' were protesting against exactly this sort of exposure. They were protesting the possibility of having one's most private actions (not thoughts, since the implant couldn't record those) being made public. My self-preservation instinct also protests against Judgement Day. I don't want everyone knowing everything about me - particularly because I have so many unholy moments.
Yet, it is only when we face ourselves at our worst that we can really begin to grasp how truly incredible the gift of friendship with God through Jesus' death on the cross is.
'How great the Father's love for me
how vast beyond all measure
that He would give his only son
to make a wretch his treasure...'
And this, dear friends, is the scandalous mystery that is at the heart of Christianity.
The story revolves around a cutter (the person who edits the footage of your life) who is asked to do a particularly difficult job, and how what he sees in that person's memories sparks a series of events. The great philosophical debate of the movie is whether or not the implant (which is entirely voluntary, but is decided upon by parents on behalf their children, so is it really voluntary??) is an enfringement of a person's human rights, or not.
One of the questions arising out of the idea of such an implant is to what extent memories are personal things, only to be shared between the people involved. Cutters are not allowed to have the implant, because then everything they would see while cutting someone else's memories would be recorded in their own Zoe implant. One of the characters, whose ex-boyfriend had an implant that was recovered after his death, went crazy when she realised that a particular cutter, who was in an on-again/ off-again relationship with her, had seen the footage from her ex. Think about it - your most intimate moments with someone, seen by someone else... I'd be rather uncomfortable about that to say the least!
Something that wasn't touched on in the movie, but which I thought about, was whether the footage in such an implant could ethically have been used for criminal prosecution or not (post-humously, of course, but at least to solve crimes that would otherwise remain unsolved). It reminded me of 'Minority Report'.
The thing that really struck me though, was when a cutter commented about a girl who had behaved atriciously until such time as her parents told her about her implant. Overnight, she changed into a well-behaved, well-mannered person, but later went on to commit suicide, because she couldn't cope with the pressure of being perfect. The cutter then commented that it wasn't fair to anyone to know that every moment of their life would be open to anyone to view after they were dead.
It got me thinking. According to Christian theology, on Judgement Day, both the known deeds and the secret deeds, as well as the motives of the heart, for every person, will be made known, and judged. Essentially, this is a bit like the 'Zoe' implant of this movie, just even further reaching. There will come a day when EVERYTHING I've done and thought will be laid open and bare for all to see, and I will be judged accordingly.
While I know that those who have trusted in Jesus will be saved, we will still be judged. Our reward in heaven will be based upon our deeds and thoughts, so we can't act without impunity just because we are already a forgiven people.
That is both a scary and a comforting thought. I'm not looking forward to having everyone else know all my deep, dark, secret thoughts and motives. That's the truly terrifying bit. Every horrid thought I've ever had towards or about someone else, every moment of jealousy or hatred that has filled my heart, every sin of omission, every sin of commission - all my dirtiest laundry will be hung up for everyone to see. That's a pretty terrifying thought.
The comforting bit is that everyone else will be just as terrified, and (hopefully) so concerned with their own sins and failings that they won't care too much about the revelations from my my life. The other comforting thing about it is that EVERYONE will be judged.
While some get away (literally and figuratively) with murder in this life, there will be a day where they will be called to account for their actions - and there will be no plea bargaining on that day. Not only will they be named, they will be shamed. (Of course - this just goes to show you how skewed my practical beliefs about sin are. God views murder in the same light as telling a lie - but I don't - not in practice. Murder is a far worse crime, in my book.)
The protesters in 'The Final Cut' were protesting against exactly this sort of exposure. They were protesting the possibility of having one's most private actions (not thoughts, since the implant couldn't record those) being made public. My self-preservation instinct also protests against Judgement Day. I don't want everyone knowing everything about me - particularly because I have so many unholy moments.
Yet, it is only when we face ourselves at our worst that we can really begin to grasp how truly incredible the gift of friendship with God through Jesus' death on the cross is.
'How great the Father's love for me
how vast beyond all measure
that He would give his only son
to make a wretch his treasure...'
And this, dear friends, is the scandalous mystery that is at the heart of Christianity.
Friday, August 21, 2009
Of homosexuality and sin
I started this post on Friday, but it's taken me the entire weekend to formulate it (mostly because of family time, rather than taking time to think carefully about the words I'm using or sentence and paragraph construction). Before you get all up in arms about it, I should say that this is a journal post - designed more to help me gather my thoughts and conceptualise them than to start a real discussion amongst readers.
One of the judges I met at the Eskom Expo for Young Scientists Cape Town Regional competition this past week is a lesbian. So let's open this can of worms, shall we? Why not? It's weekend after all, and the perfect time for reflecting on big issues (or not...).
All the gays, lesbians and bi-sexual people I know are lovely, lovely, wonderful people. Warm, funny, caring, in touch with themselves, confident, assured. They've got to be, to survive the comments and attitudes of society towards them. As a result, I think I would often choose them as a friend over a heterosexual.
And yet... (why are there always 'and yet's with me??)
And yet, whenever I realise someone is a homosexual, or they tell me they are, something inside me recoils. I have to consciously remind myself that they are just as worthy of my love and friendship as any other person. Then, inside, I start to relax again. I never seem to relax completely though. A part of me always seems to remain tied up.
In reflecting on this again, having met this lovely lesbian lady this week, I've realised that the portion of me that remains tied up is because of the tension I feel between my experience as one human being towards another, and my faith. Over the years, I have vacillated from thinking that homosexuality is sinful, to accepting it, and back again. I have really struggled with this issue, with trying to be true to the Bible while trying to make allowances for recent Biblical exposition.
There have been several high profile Christian theologians who have studied the Bible and come to the conclusion that the traditional understanding of the practice of homosexuality as being sinful is incorrect. As a human being, I struggle to comprehend that God would create a person and then require them to deny part of their identity. Thus, I want to believe that this liberal interpretation is correct. Yet, when I read the same texts for myself and listen to Christian theologians I respect and trust, I agree that these interpretations simply don't hold water for me.
I quite like Dr James Dobson's explanation of the traditional position though. Modern science indicates that alcoholism is caused by an inherited gene. Thus, an alcoholic literally can't help themselves - they are born to drink. However, that does not make it morally acceptable for the alcoholic to drink. The alcoholic must refrain from drinking any alcohol as even the smallest sip can send them spiralling out of control and may ultimately kill them (either through damage to their liver, through alcohol poisoning during binge drinking, or through an accident caused by their intoxication). Thus, there is something in their genes that causes them to act in a certain way and that can ultimately kill them.
This can be likened to homosexuality. If, as many homosexuals claim, being a homosexual is inherent to these individuals, then it is caused by one or many genes they have inherited. These genes cause them to behave in a certain way. Physically, these actions can also kill them. (I won't go into it now, but there is a dearth of information about the biological effects of homosexual sex and the physical damage it may do to individuals who practice it, particularly for men.)
The Bible teaches that being drunk on wine is sinful. The Bible is saying that alcoholics following their nature and doing what their genes have predisposed them to do, is sinful. It's not saying that being an alcoholic is sinful (although the Bible does teach that ALL people are sinful) - it's saying that acting on their nature (drinking till they're drunk) is sinful. Likewise, the Bible teaches that homosexual acts are sinful, rather than just being inherently homosexual. Alcoholics who are trying to stay dry continue to call themselves alcoholics for the rest of their lives, even if they never drink again. Thus, it is possible to BE something without acting on that nature.
Homosexuals who are also Christians are called to a life of celibacy. This seems so unfair. Yet, alcoholics have to lead a life of sobriety in order to avoid becoming drunk. They have to become tea-totallers. They may not allow one drop of alcohol to pass their lips - EVER. This is an incredibly difficult thing for them to do and requires incredible self-control. In fact, the only thing that seems to help alcoholics deal with their addiction is admitting that they need the help of a higher power and do not, in fact, have the self-control needed to stop drinking. (That's step 1 in the 12-step programme followed by AA.) Graeme's cousin has recently admitted she is an alcoholic, and watching her trying to come to terms with her addiction, deal with it, and stay dry is an incredible lesson in self-discipline for the rest of us.
Since there are thousands of alcoholics who have been able to stay dry for years, there is no reason why there cannot be thousands of Christian homosexuals who are able to remain celibate. It will require the same amount of self-discipline, but they have the added support of the help of the Holy Spirit.
If truth be told, my pride (which is an inherent part of my character) could do with the same treatment and level of self-discipline to control it. Each of us, I think, has something that requires an inordinate amount of effort to purify and keep under control. Even the great saint Paul said that he found himself doing the things he hated and not doing the (pure/ moral) things he desperately wanted to do.
I have been shown grace, therefore I must show grace. So, while part of me knows that the homosexuals I meet are sinning by having a same-sex relationship, the rest of me strives to show them grace, to love them, accept them for who they are, welcome them with open arms and not stand in judgement. It is this tension that ties me up inside. It is a tightrope I walk, trying to balance not minimising the truth God has given us with demonstrating the grace I am expected to display. Ultimately, I just thank God that it is God who must be the judge and sort this mess out!
One of the judges I met at the Eskom Expo for Young Scientists Cape Town Regional competition this past week is a lesbian. So let's open this can of worms, shall we? Why not? It's weekend after all, and the perfect time for reflecting on big issues (or not...).
All the gays, lesbians and bi-sexual people I know are lovely, lovely, wonderful people. Warm, funny, caring, in touch with themselves, confident, assured. They've got to be, to survive the comments and attitudes of society towards them. As a result, I think I would often choose them as a friend over a heterosexual.
And yet... (why are there always 'and yet's with me??)
And yet, whenever I realise someone is a homosexual, or they tell me they are, something inside me recoils. I have to consciously remind myself that they are just as worthy of my love and friendship as any other person. Then, inside, I start to relax again. I never seem to relax completely though. A part of me always seems to remain tied up.
In reflecting on this again, having met this lovely lesbian lady this week, I've realised that the portion of me that remains tied up is because of the tension I feel between my experience as one human being towards another, and my faith. Over the years, I have vacillated from thinking that homosexuality is sinful, to accepting it, and back again. I have really struggled with this issue, with trying to be true to the Bible while trying to make allowances for recent Biblical exposition.
There have been several high profile Christian theologians who have studied the Bible and come to the conclusion that the traditional understanding of the practice of homosexuality as being sinful is incorrect. As a human being, I struggle to comprehend that God would create a person and then require them to deny part of their identity. Thus, I want to believe that this liberal interpretation is correct. Yet, when I read the same texts for myself and listen to Christian theologians I respect and trust, I agree that these interpretations simply don't hold water for me.
I quite like Dr James Dobson's explanation of the traditional position though. Modern science indicates that alcoholism is caused by an inherited gene. Thus, an alcoholic literally can't help themselves - they are born to drink. However, that does not make it morally acceptable for the alcoholic to drink. The alcoholic must refrain from drinking any alcohol as even the smallest sip can send them spiralling out of control and may ultimately kill them (either through damage to their liver, through alcohol poisoning during binge drinking, or through an accident caused by their intoxication). Thus, there is something in their genes that causes them to act in a certain way and that can ultimately kill them.
This can be likened to homosexuality. If, as many homosexuals claim, being a homosexual is inherent to these individuals, then it is caused by one or many genes they have inherited. These genes cause them to behave in a certain way. Physically, these actions can also kill them. (I won't go into it now, but there is a dearth of information about the biological effects of homosexual sex and the physical damage it may do to individuals who practice it, particularly for men.)
The Bible teaches that being drunk on wine is sinful. The Bible is saying that alcoholics following their nature and doing what their genes have predisposed them to do, is sinful. It's not saying that being an alcoholic is sinful (although the Bible does teach that ALL people are sinful) - it's saying that acting on their nature (drinking till they're drunk) is sinful. Likewise, the Bible teaches that homosexual acts are sinful, rather than just being inherently homosexual. Alcoholics who are trying to stay dry continue to call themselves alcoholics for the rest of their lives, even if they never drink again. Thus, it is possible to BE something without acting on that nature.
Homosexuals who are also Christians are called to a life of celibacy. This seems so unfair. Yet, alcoholics have to lead a life of sobriety in order to avoid becoming drunk. They have to become tea-totallers. They may not allow one drop of alcohol to pass their lips - EVER. This is an incredibly difficult thing for them to do and requires incredible self-control. In fact, the only thing that seems to help alcoholics deal with their addiction is admitting that they need the help of a higher power and do not, in fact, have the self-control needed to stop drinking. (That's step 1 in the 12-step programme followed by AA.) Graeme's cousin has recently admitted she is an alcoholic, and watching her trying to come to terms with her addiction, deal with it, and stay dry is an incredible lesson in self-discipline for the rest of us.
Since there are thousands of alcoholics who have been able to stay dry for years, there is no reason why there cannot be thousands of Christian homosexuals who are able to remain celibate. It will require the same amount of self-discipline, but they have the added support of the help of the Holy Spirit.
If truth be told, my pride (which is an inherent part of my character) could do with the same treatment and level of self-discipline to control it. Each of us, I think, has something that requires an inordinate amount of effort to purify and keep under control. Even the great saint Paul said that he found himself doing the things he hated and not doing the (pure/ moral) things he desperately wanted to do.
I have been shown grace, therefore I must show grace. So, while part of me knows that the homosexuals I meet are sinning by having a same-sex relationship, the rest of me strives to show them grace, to love them, accept them for who they are, welcome them with open arms and not stand in judgement. It is this tension that ties me up inside. It is a tightrope I walk, trying to balance not minimising the truth God has given us with demonstrating the grace I am expected to display. Ultimately, I just thank God that it is God who must be the judge and sort this mess out!
Monday, May 07, 2007
The 7 deadly sins
Lust, gluttony, greed, sloth, wrath, envy, pride... these are, according to the Catholics, the worst sins you can commit. I'm not sure that God would agree, but I find the list a helpful reminder that, at its root, sin is all about self-gratification: I want, I need, me, me, me...
Do you ever find yourself snapping at someone, then wondering why on earth you just did that? Over the past few days I've caught myself doing just that, and I don't know why. When I examine my feelings, I realise that I'm either pretty irritated or fairly angry, but not with the person I snapped at. I'm just irritated, or angry. And I don't know why.
On Sat, at Sarah's birthday lunch (I've done another post about that, but I'm waiting for some photos from a friend before I actually post it - in the meantime you can check out her blog for some collages of the day - the link is on the right), I found myself getting irritable and wanting to snap at people or just withdraw completely. It took me a while to figure out the reason in this case: Jealousy (or envy).
It always takes me a long time to make really good friends. In the last year Sarah and I have become really good friends and now we're moving to SA and I have to say goodbye. I hate it! Anyway, another of her really good friends was at the picnic and after a few hours I realised that I was jealous that this friend was going to be around and be in a position to continue to develop her friendship with Sarah, but I wasn't. And that sucks. Big time. So I sulked and snapped and gave everyone the silent treatment.
Once I'd realised what was going on, I did manage to put it (mostly) to one side and enjoy the time I had left before we went home, but I can't help wondering whether my mood put a damper on the event for others. I hope not! I hope they were able to ignore me.
So what made me think about that today? The fact that it happened again. We went out to visit with Graeme's family near Guildford for the day. From late last night when my mother-in-law rang, I found myself getting wound up about it. Why? I'm still not sure. I've been feeling irritable all day today, and the weather certainly didn't help. (I'm glad it rained, because we need the water, but grey skies always irritate me.) Is it jealousy? Not entirely. Is it greed? Possibly. Mostly, I think it's insecurity, on all fronts.
The 'log in your eye/ speck in your brother's eye' story is a good one. It highlights the fact that we so often pick on other people's weaknesses in order to avoid dealing with our own. Few things in life irritate me more than other people's incompetence and insecurity. I don't like to be around people who are insecure because it highlights within me my own feelings of insecurity. I don't like being around people who are completely incompetent because it highlights within me my own hatred of being dependent on others for help as a result of my own incompetence.
The mother-/ daughter-in law relationship can be fraught with tension. I understand both sides of the relationship. I understand the fear that the mother-in-law feels at the massive influence the wife now exerts over her husband, who was once solely (or mostly) under his mother's influence. I also understand the fear that the wife feels that the mother-in-law will continue to exert her maternal influence over the husband and children. Both parties can feel very threatened by the other. I understand that. I know that my mother-in-law understands that too. And I know we've both made sacrifices to try to meet on neutral ground.
Some mothers- & daughters-in law are fortunate enough to really love each other, to become as close as daughters are with their own mothers. Ours is not such a relationship. Granted, it's much easier now than it was 10 years ago - but I would hope so! There are times when I really enjoy her company, when I look forward to seeing her and chatting with her, when I think that we are starting to become more than just mother- and daughter-in-law. There are times when watching her interact with Janel gives me immense pleasure. But there are still times when the opposite is true.
I won't say today was one of those other times, because there were moments today when I really did enjoy being with her. You can hear there's a 'but' coming, can't you? But. Maybe between feeling so jealous on Saturday and so at sea on Sunday, between the hay fever and tiredness, between the busyness of last week and Nellie's fractiousness, I just wasn't ready to be generous or gracious or loving to anyone. I even found myself getting jealous of Graeme's playing with Nellie today & the fun they had while we were at the petting/ children's farm today...
I am being so possessive and jealous and irritable. It's childish, isn't it? Yet, there it is. "Stille water, diepe grond, maar onder draai die duiwel rond."
(I think the closest approximation in English for this is - still waters run deep - but the literal translation is - still waters, deep earth, but the devil turns beneath. The Afrikaans version has a much more sinister feeling about it.)
Do you ever find yourself snapping at someone, then wondering why on earth you just did that? Over the past few days I've caught myself doing just that, and I don't know why. When I examine my feelings, I realise that I'm either pretty irritated or fairly angry, but not with the person I snapped at. I'm just irritated, or angry. And I don't know why.
On Sat, at Sarah's birthday lunch (I've done another post about that, but I'm waiting for some photos from a friend before I actually post it - in the meantime you can check out her blog for some collages of the day - the link is on the right), I found myself getting irritable and wanting to snap at people or just withdraw completely. It took me a while to figure out the reason in this case: Jealousy (or envy).
It always takes me a long time to make really good friends. In the last year Sarah and I have become really good friends and now we're moving to SA and I have to say goodbye. I hate it! Anyway, another of her really good friends was at the picnic and after a few hours I realised that I was jealous that this friend was going to be around and be in a position to continue to develop her friendship with Sarah, but I wasn't. And that sucks. Big time. So I sulked and snapped and gave everyone the silent treatment.
Once I'd realised what was going on, I did manage to put it (mostly) to one side and enjoy the time I had left before we went home, but I can't help wondering whether my mood put a damper on the event for others. I hope not! I hope they were able to ignore me.
So what made me think about that today? The fact that it happened again. We went out to visit with Graeme's family near Guildford for the day. From late last night when my mother-in-law rang, I found myself getting wound up about it. Why? I'm still not sure. I've been feeling irritable all day today, and the weather certainly didn't help. (I'm glad it rained, because we need the water, but grey skies always irritate me.) Is it jealousy? Not entirely. Is it greed? Possibly. Mostly, I think it's insecurity, on all fronts.
The 'log in your eye/ speck in your brother's eye' story is a good one. It highlights the fact that we so often pick on other people's weaknesses in order to avoid dealing with our own. Few things in life irritate me more than other people's incompetence and insecurity. I don't like to be around people who are insecure because it highlights within me my own feelings of insecurity. I don't like being around people who are completely incompetent because it highlights within me my own hatred of being dependent on others for help as a result of my own incompetence.
The mother-/ daughter-in law relationship can be fraught with tension. I understand both sides of the relationship. I understand the fear that the mother-in-law feels at the massive influence the wife now exerts over her husband, who was once solely (or mostly) under his mother's influence. I also understand the fear that the wife feels that the mother-in-law will continue to exert her maternal influence over the husband and children. Both parties can feel very threatened by the other. I understand that. I know that my mother-in-law understands that too. And I know we've both made sacrifices to try to meet on neutral ground.
Some mothers- & daughters-in law are fortunate enough to really love each other, to become as close as daughters are with their own mothers. Ours is not such a relationship. Granted, it's much easier now than it was 10 years ago - but I would hope so! There are times when I really enjoy her company, when I look forward to seeing her and chatting with her, when I think that we are starting to become more than just mother- and daughter-in-law. There are times when watching her interact with Janel gives me immense pleasure. But there are still times when the opposite is true.
I won't say today was one of those other times, because there were moments today when I really did enjoy being with her. You can hear there's a 'but' coming, can't you? But. Maybe between feeling so jealous on Saturday and so at sea on Sunday, between the hay fever and tiredness, between the busyness of last week and Nellie's fractiousness, I just wasn't ready to be generous or gracious or loving to anyone. I even found myself getting jealous of Graeme's playing with Nellie today & the fun they had while we were at the petting/ children's farm today...
I am being so possessive and jealous and irritable. It's childish, isn't it? Yet, there it is. "Stille water, diepe grond, maar onder draai die duiwel rond."
(I think the closest approximation in English for this is - still waters run deep - but the literal translation is - still waters, deep earth, but the devil turns beneath. The Afrikaans version has a much more sinister feeling about it.)
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