As the holiday season rolls around, I know we all have special thoughts and memories that we call to mind each year. Many are probably the traditional practices and messages of Christmas, or the family experiences and personal memories that each of us holds individually dear. But for me at Christmastime, each year as the season approaches, my mind becomes occupied with one simple, obvious thing. That's right, you guessed it--it's Talladega Nights: The Ballad of Ricky Bobby.
While I'm aware that Talladega Nights is not specifically a Christmas movie, I can't go through a Christmas season without thinking of it constantly, and for very good reason. If you've seen the movie, you know that one of the funniest themes throughout (especially in the end credits) is a bit where the characters all talk about how they think of Jesus. Some are really ridiculous ("I like to think of Jesus as a mischievous badger."), some actually more philosophical ("I like to think of Jesus as a dirty old bum...but then I say, wait a minute, there's something--I don't know--special about this guy."), but the one most present in the movie itself is Ricky's insistence on thinking of Jesus as a tiny baby in the manger. While other characters and family members try to point out that Jesus actually didn't remain a baby forever--"Jesus was a man! He had a beard!"--Ricky insists that he likes the tiny baby Jesus best. Friends and family can pray to whatever Jesus they like, he informs them, but he will stick with the cute little baby Jesus in the manger--"little 8-pound 6-ounce baby Jesus, don't even know a word yet."
And as all the world around us celebrates this season of Christ's birth, how true, I think. Everyone loves that tiny little baby Jesus in the manger, the one who can't even speak a word yet. That little baby Jesus is so easy to love, to celebrate, sort of like a precious little Christmas mascot. A Christmas tradition of childhood. What a great team he and Santa make, that cute little baby Jesus.
The inconvenient truth, of course, is that the little baby did grow up. He learned some words. He said some things. They were not as warm and fuzzy. They required something of us, something more than feeling good and buying ourselves a bunch more stuff. He asked us to do the unthinkable. To love others in a way that denies ourselves. To love him above all else. To put aside everything and follow him only, fully, truly. Turns out we would rather he hadn't learned to talk. And so, we have followed in Ricky Bobby's footsteps, celebrating him only at Christmastime. Pray to whatever Jesus you want, worship whatever Jesus you like, the rest of the time. We like the tiny little baby Jesus best.
But ignoring the grown-up Jesus, unfortunately, while it may keep us more comfortable in the short term, also means missing out on anything that little baby in the manger might have to offer. Because the coming of that tiny baby Jesus is worthless, meaningless, hopeless, without the mission of his adulthood, the reason that he came. All the joy, peace, and love that the baby Jesus has come to signify in the Christmas season are only possible because of the acts of sacrifice and redemption that are to follow. I wrote in my earlier post about God's Plan B that Christmas was always coming, but it was so much more than Christmas--the manger has always existed in the shadow of the cross. That is the only place it makes sense. The coming of that tiny baby was not simply to give us God's message of love and peace on earth--we already had that memo. That's why those who see him as a prophet or teacher or some other kind of heavenly messenger have missed the mark. We cannot help ourselves by simply receiving the message. This fallen people will never follow the instructions well enough to piece together the shattered fragments of our broken world. Messiah, not messenger, was the only solution.
In his letter to the Corinthians, Paul tells us that if that grown-up Jesus did not die, was not raised from the dead, that our faith is worthless; "if we have hoped in Christ in this life only," he says, "we are of all men most to be pitied." Only through death and resurrection can this Jesus become our sacrificial substitute, can he redeem his own creation, can he defeat all that works against our good, even that last enemy, the enemy death itself. And when this happens, says Paul, just as we have all been asked to die to ourselves, we will all be made alive in Christ. "O Death, where is thy victory? O Death, where is thy sting?" This is not the work of a tiny baby, no matter how special. This is the work of a knowing, willing, and loving Jesus, the man Jesus, the one with a beard.
So think of Jesus, if you like, as that tiny baby. Cute little baby Jesus, there in the manger, "in his little golden diaper." Heck, think of him as a figure skater in a white jumpsuit, who does interpretive ice dances of your life story. If you stop at the manger, it really makes no difference--the figure skater is just as meaningful. But I like to think of Jesus as a man. A man who bears the image of heaven, who abolishes every evil and enemy, a man with all rule and authority and power, a man who sacrifices all to bring redemption and resurrection. A man who is the very God of heaven. That's my Jesus. Take your pick.
Wednesday, December 25, 2013
Monday, December 9, 2013
Top 10 Things It Turns Out You CAN Learn To Do Without A Man At Christmastime
1. Find, cut down, haul home, and set up a Christmas tree. Actually, there is even much less cursing in the man-free version.
2. Put lights on the aforementioned tree. There is less cursing for this part also, unless you count the things you say under your breath when the kids mention for the 800th time how Dad does it.
3. Budget for all the holiday expenses. Oh, wait. You were already doing that yourself anyway.
4. Plan and shop for all the gifts......no, that's another one you were already doing....hmmm.
5. Christmas cards--no....bake cookies--don't be ridiculous.....kid's school parties--as if! Every single other holiday activity--
Oh, for Pete's sake. Never mind.
2. Put lights on the aforementioned tree. There is less cursing for this part also, unless you count the things you say under your breath when the kids mention for the 800th time how Dad does it.
3. Budget for all the holiday expenses. Oh, wait. You were already doing that yourself anyway.
4. Plan and shop for all the gifts......no, that's another one you were already doing....hmmm.
5. Christmas cards--no....bake cookies--don't be ridiculous.....kid's school parties--as if! Every single other holiday activity--
Oh, for Pete's sake. Never mind.
Thursday, November 28, 2013
Plan B
As I sat at breakfast with my son yesterday, I said, conversationally, "So, how are you feeling with the holidays coming up?" Immediately, he answered, "Stressed." I admit, I was a bit surprised. Not because he's only 13, and doesn't have to worry about scheduling, shopping, traveling, budgeting, or any of the other things that usually bring stress to adults in the holiday season, but because this is our second year experiencing the holidays as a separated family. I thought the second time around would be easier. But as we talked, it became clear that, to him, this second year will still feel new, will still be full of uncertainty, discomfort, and his least favorite thing--change. He tells me again his oft-repeated refrain. "I don't know what's going to happen."
I haven't talked or written here about the divorce. There is not much that seems appropriate to share, that is ready for publication. I know so many have their own feelings, experiences, beliefs in this area, and many of these are strongly held. I have encountered them often in these last 16 months. I have been surprised at what people are willing to say, ask, advise. "Are you willing to wait?" "Please tell me you're working it out." "You should be trying harder to slow the process down." Once I was even told, "Make sure you are crossing all your Biblical t's and dotting your i's." Ah, yes. Good marks on that heavenly checklist are of paramount importance in a situation like this.
But what I find most astonishing in these well-meaning responses is the certainty. I'm ashamed to admit that at one time, I probably would have been one of these confident onlookers, would have said the same things, thought the same thoughts. I suppose I could be described as my pastor, Randy Boltinghouse, identified himself in a recent sermon, "a recovering legalist" when it comes to divorce. What experience teaches is that it's not so simple.
The question my son has struggled with from the beginning, that he comes back to over and over, is, "Is this, or is it not, God's plan for our family?" He cannot reconcile himself to my answer, which is that whatever happens is God's plan for our family. He wants something clearer, more concrete. Why can't I tell him one way or the other, for certain? But the only thing I can say for certain is that it was not my plan.
Only a few weeks before my husband let me know of his desire to end our marriage, we were having a conversation about my grandparents, who had been married for 73 years. When my grandfather, who had been in failing health for several months, passed away at the age of 94, the two of them were alone together in their apartment; my grandfather, resting in bed, asked my grandmother if she would come and rest with him. Lying there together, he said to her simply, "I'm dying." She answered, "I know." And they simply stayed together there until he quietly slipped away. How enviable, I said to my husband, to reach the end of life that way. No hospital, no drugs, no machines. Nothing to separate. To be able to go away peacefully, in the arms of the one you love, wordlessly sharing the memories of a long lifetime. That's what I want, I told him. Let's do that.
When cherished plans lie in ruins, as we struggle to make sense of our loss, I believe we often join my son in his question. Is this the plan? Or just a horrible mistake? Is there a backup plan, a plan B? And what, after all, was wrong with plan A? Unlike my son, however, as we approach the Advent season, instead of anxiety and uncertainty about the future, I've come back to a thought I've returned to often this last year--God's plan B.
To fully appreciate God's plan B, we have to first think about his plan A, the Garden. The Garden of Eden was a good plan. In fact, it was a great plan--a perfect plan. It was so good that the image of this Paradise has become an expression in its own right, symbolizing an idyllic existence. It represents, in the collective consciousness, perfection itself. And God created this Utopia, declared it "good," proceeded to act in good faith toward his creation, knowing all the while that this perfect plan would not ultimately succeed. From the inception of time, even as plan A went forward, plan B existed. Christmas was always coming.
Some important things I think I learn from this. One is that God's plans will come in their own time. From the day Adam and Eve walked away with Eden at their backs, there was a promise of hope for the future; but history testifies to how long so many waited to see that promise fulfilled. That famous passage on faith in Hebrews 11 lists faithful believer after faithful believer who labored for a lifetime with nothing but trust in a promise made. Some, like old Simeon in the temple, lived just long enough to see it realized in their last days of life. The perfect moment is something that only God understands, at least until it happens, and maybe even after that.
Another is that whatever God's plans are, they will be unexpected. So many, even those who had been waiting for God's promised salvation, did not recognize the promise's fulfillment when it came. And who could blame them? Such an unlikely package--that tiny, poor, illegitimate baby; that odd, provocative, offensive man.
Oh, but when that promise came? How amazing, how spectacular it was! How far beyond anyone's wildest expectations! Who could possibly have predicted it? Incarnation. Redemption. Resurrection. Not too shabby.
Anne Lamott says, "Hope begins in the dark, the stubborn hope that if you just show up and try to do the right thing, the dawn will come. You wait and watch and work: you don't give up." So this holiday season, we may be in the dark; we may not really know where we are going, or when and where we will see the plan, or even if we will see it. But we wait, and watch, and work for God's spectacular plan B--we wait like those saints, kings, and shepherds of old, expectantly, with hope for the promise that we know will be fulfilled.
Wednesday, November 13, 2013
Failure: Why It Matters
Quite a few months back, I saw a headline that caught my attention. Maybe you noticed it. It was right around Easter time, and the text read, "Aggressive Parents Force Egg Hunt Cancellation." If, like me, you stopped to read it, you may remember that it was about a long-running annual Easter egg hunt in Old Colorado City, Colorado, that last year was discontinued for good. The reason? Too many parents, unwilling to risk letting their children return egg-less, refused to obey the children-only rules of the event, and swarmed the hunting ground, emptying it of hidden eggs in mere seconds, and leaving the remaining children of rule-following parents standing forlorn and empty-handed on the field. The hunt's master of ceremonies lamented that having even one parent break the rules makes it impossible to keep all the others from doing so-- "If one parent gets in there, other parents say, 'If one can get in, we all can get in,' and everybody goes." Seeming confirmation of this comes from a parent quoted in the article. "You have all these eggs just lying around, and parents helping out. You
better believe I'm going to help my kid get one of those eggs."
Like me, you may at this point be asking yourself the obvious question--what is wrong with these people? At any rate, I hope that is at least among your first reactions. If not, and you are instead wondering what's wrong with the rest of those suckers who left their kids standing out there with no eggs, I strongly recommend that you not read the rest of this blog post. Or no, actually, maybe read it, and I hope you find something in it that's food for thought, but I also hope you don't know where I live, or have my email address.
The point at issue here is fairly simple. All these parents want is to shield their children from the experience of failure. That's easy to understand, because, as we all know, failure can feel pretty bad. It can be sad, disappointing, painful, and frustrating. And none of us, not one, enjoys it when our kids feel bad. So it actually isn't that difficult to identify with those folks who took their kids to an Easter egg hunt, and didn't want to see them come home with no eggs, no candy, no prizes, and probably crying. Maybe when they leaped over the rope and left other small children weeping on the ground, it became a bit harder. But still, I think we all get the basic impulse behind the behavior. The problem is, though, that failure actually matters. Failure, with all its accompanying trauma and drama, is a vital part of making our children happy, healthy, successful adults.
You see, every person, of every age, must go through the same four stages in order to learn anything. I'm not just talking about learning facts and information, like the dates of the American Revolution, or pre-algebra. I'm talking about learning, or learning how to do, anything at all in life. Want to learn to build an airplane? Work in a group? Be a great boyfriend? A responsible employee? You'll have to do it in these four stages. Stage 1 is called "unconscious incompetence." This simply means that you can't do whatever it is (or don't know whatever it is), and you don't know that you can't do it or don't know it. You may not even be aware that such a thing exists. So obviously, in this stage, you are quite bad at it. Stage 2 is "conscious incompetence." This means, you still can't do whatever it is, but you have now realized it. This is my least favorite stage, the stage where you become aware of just how bad at this you really are. But don't worry--with instruction and effort, you'll soon be in Stage 3, "conscious competence." Here, you can do the thing right, but you really have to think about it. You're making a conscious effort to do it correctly all the time. It's hard, but if you keep it up, eventually you will move to Stage 4, "unconscious competence." This is what we're hoping for. In this stage, you know (or know how to do) whatever it is, without even having to stop and think about it. It's second nature to you, it just comes naturally. You can do it without even being aware of it.
You may already have pinpointed the part of this process where failure comes in. That least favorite part of mine, "conscious incompetence," depends completely on failure. In order to move successfully through Stage 2 and get on to "conscious competence," you first have to know that you can't do it! Failure to allow failure is failure to develop competence. That was really important. In fact, I think I'll say it again. Failure to allow failure is failure to develop competence. I won't say it a third time, but read it again if you think you need to. And if you only take one thing away from this post, make that the thing.
The problem is, when parents keep their children from experiencing failure, they are short-circuiting the learning process. The message that kids need to receive, when they are in this critical second stage of learning, is, "You can't do it...yet." Instead, when parents step in and prevent kids from trying, failing, and trying again until they succeed, the message that's being sent is simply, "You can't do it." After all, our kids conclude, if their success was possible, why would our intervention be necessary? And, most importantly--parents, PLEASE hear me here--both of these messages are self-fulfilling. If your child gets the message from you that failure is OK, that it just means he can't do it yet, that if he keeps trying he will master it on his own, then your child will weather failure, keep trying, and master it on his own. If your child gets the message from you that he cannot do this, and that failure is to be avoided at all costs, he will not risk it--he will not try--and he will not learn it.
There is plenty of research to support this assertion. You can find a lot of it in an excellent book by Po Bronson and Ashley Merriman called Nurture Shock. Many of the conclusions about praise, self-esteem, and the way we groom our children for the expectation of success and positive outcomes may surprise you. And more confirmation is forthcoming all the time. Another study just last year showed that a correct perspective on failure is an important component of school success. News articles reported that "children who were told learning can be difficult, and that failing is a natural part of the learning process, actually performed better on tests than kids not given such reassurances." One of the French researchers summed it up simply--when kids get the message that failing means you are a failure, it "creates feelings of incompetence that in turn disrupt learning."
So then what are we parents to do? How can we use failure to help our kids succeed? I would never claim to have all the answers to those questions, but I do think I have a couple, so you are free to take them for what they're worth.
First, I think it's terribly important that we let our children experience failure while they are small. Don't wait until they are almost grown, and instead of having no Easter candy, the stakes are a night in jail, or the loss of a diploma, or something worse. Don't be one of the parents who have caused some New York companies to institute "Take Your Parents to Work Day," for new hires whose lives require so much parental involvement that even as young adults they must take Mom to the new job to straighten everything out for them there. When they are little, the stakes are so low, and the window for learning is so wide. These are the days when they are saying to themselves, "So this is what life is about." Those are the times we want to help them understand it, from the very beginning, to lay the foundation with the most important truths about their own identity, their own fallibility and power and competence. And if your kids are not really that little any more, that's OK--it's not too late. Start today.
Second, we need to focus more on the process and think less about the end result. Our children need to hear our praise, our admiration, our respect, for their efforts, not just their successful outcomes. The same French researcher in the study above, when asked how he would apply the results to children's education, said, "Learning takes time and each step in the process should be rewarded, especially at early stages when students most likely will experience failure." Everyone begins from where they are, and we all make progress from there. The progress is what matters. So if they don't manage to find an Easter egg, compliment their perseverance, their hard work, their creative thinking, their innovative technique--ANYTHING. Just don't jump over the rope and get it for them. And maybe next year, they'll get it for themselves.
Like me, you may at this point be asking yourself the obvious question--what is wrong with these people? At any rate, I hope that is at least among your first reactions. If not, and you are instead wondering what's wrong with the rest of those suckers who left their kids standing out there with no eggs, I strongly recommend that you not read the rest of this blog post. Or no, actually, maybe read it, and I hope you find something in it that's food for thought, but I also hope you don't know where I live, or have my email address.
The point at issue here is fairly simple. All these parents want is to shield their children from the experience of failure. That's easy to understand, because, as we all know, failure can feel pretty bad. It can be sad, disappointing, painful, and frustrating. And none of us, not one, enjoys it when our kids feel bad. So it actually isn't that difficult to identify with those folks who took their kids to an Easter egg hunt, and didn't want to see them come home with no eggs, no candy, no prizes, and probably crying. Maybe when they leaped over the rope and left other small children weeping on the ground, it became a bit harder. But still, I think we all get the basic impulse behind the behavior. The problem is, though, that failure actually matters. Failure, with all its accompanying trauma and drama, is a vital part of making our children happy, healthy, successful adults.
You see, every person, of every age, must go through the same four stages in order to learn anything. I'm not just talking about learning facts and information, like the dates of the American Revolution, or pre-algebra. I'm talking about learning, or learning how to do, anything at all in life. Want to learn to build an airplane? Work in a group? Be a great boyfriend? A responsible employee? You'll have to do it in these four stages. Stage 1 is called "unconscious incompetence." This simply means that you can't do whatever it is (or don't know whatever it is), and you don't know that you can't do it or don't know it. You may not even be aware that such a thing exists. So obviously, in this stage, you are quite bad at it. Stage 2 is "conscious incompetence." This means, you still can't do whatever it is, but you have now realized it. This is my least favorite stage, the stage where you become aware of just how bad at this you really are. But don't worry--with instruction and effort, you'll soon be in Stage 3, "conscious competence." Here, you can do the thing right, but you really have to think about it. You're making a conscious effort to do it correctly all the time. It's hard, but if you keep it up, eventually you will move to Stage 4, "unconscious competence." This is what we're hoping for. In this stage, you know (or know how to do) whatever it is, without even having to stop and think about it. It's second nature to you, it just comes naturally. You can do it without even being aware of it.
You may already have pinpointed the part of this process where failure comes in. That least favorite part of mine, "conscious incompetence," depends completely on failure. In order to move successfully through Stage 2 and get on to "conscious competence," you first have to know that you can't do it! Failure to allow failure is failure to develop competence. That was really important. In fact, I think I'll say it again. Failure to allow failure is failure to develop competence. I won't say it a third time, but read it again if you think you need to. And if you only take one thing away from this post, make that the thing.
The problem is, when parents keep their children from experiencing failure, they are short-circuiting the learning process. The message that kids need to receive, when they are in this critical second stage of learning, is, "You can't do it...yet." Instead, when parents step in and prevent kids from trying, failing, and trying again until they succeed, the message that's being sent is simply, "You can't do it." After all, our kids conclude, if their success was possible, why would our intervention be necessary? And, most importantly--parents, PLEASE hear me here--both of these messages are self-fulfilling. If your child gets the message from you that failure is OK, that it just means he can't do it yet, that if he keeps trying he will master it on his own, then your child will weather failure, keep trying, and master it on his own. If your child gets the message from you that he cannot do this, and that failure is to be avoided at all costs, he will not risk it--he will not try--and he will not learn it.
There is plenty of research to support this assertion. You can find a lot of it in an excellent book by Po Bronson and Ashley Merriman called Nurture Shock. Many of the conclusions about praise, self-esteem, and the way we groom our children for the expectation of success and positive outcomes may surprise you. And more confirmation is forthcoming all the time. Another study just last year showed that a correct perspective on failure is an important component of school success. News articles reported that "children who were told learning can be difficult, and that failing is a natural part of the learning process, actually performed better on tests than kids not given such reassurances." One of the French researchers summed it up simply--when kids get the message that failing means you are a failure, it "creates feelings of incompetence that in turn disrupt learning."
So then what are we parents to do? How can we use failure to help our kids succeed? I would never claim to have all the answers to those questions, but I do think I have a couple, so you are free to take them for what they're worth.
First, I think it's terribly important that we let our children experience failure while they are small. Don't wait until they are almost grown, and instead of having no Easter candy, the stakes are a night in jail, or the loss of a diploma, or something worse. Don't be one of the parents who have caused some New York companies to institute "Take Your Parents to Work Day," for new hires whose lives require so much parental involvement that even as young adults they must take Mom to the new job to straighten everything out for them there. When they are little, the stakes are so low, and the window for learning is so wide. These are the days when they are saying to themselves, "So this is what life is about." Those are the times we want to help them understand it, from the very beginning, to lay the foundation with the most important truths about their own identity, their own fallibility and power and competence. And if your kids are not really that little any more, that's OK--it's not too late. Start today.
Second, we need to focus more on the process and think less about the end result. Our children need to hear our praise, our admiration, our respect, for their efforts, not just their successful outcomes. The same French researcher in the study above, when asked how he would apply the results to children's education, said, "Learning takes time and each step in the process should be rewarded, especially at early stages when students most likely will experience failure." Everyone begins from where they are, and we all make progress from there. The progress is what matters. So if they don't manage to find an Easter egg, compliment their perseverance, their hard work, their creative thinking, their innovative technique--ANYTHING. Just don't jump over the rope and get it for them. And maybe next year, they'll get it for themselves.
Sunday, November 10, 2013
The Truth
I have a confession to make. Once, in a Bible study, I started a fight. Not on purpose. But it was a real fight, and I mean the kind of fight where people stand up and shout. My friend said later, "I was afraid we were going to have to call someone to come and get the kids."
Now, I know what you're thinking. What on earth could get people so riled up in a Bible study that there would be that kind of behavior? Well, I'm going to tell you. Many times, in a Bible study group, people will use a study book or watch a teaching video, and at this particular study, we were watching a video by a very well-known and highly respected Bible teacher. I'm not going to tell you his name, because I'm just about to say some things he would find extremely disagreeable.
In this video, the preacher who shall not be named was teaching that we--humans--need to learn that we do not have inherent value. In other words, it's very important that we understand that we are not valuable in and of ourselves. We're not actually valuable, unlike real valuable things such as gold, for example. In fact, we have no inherent value at all. The only reason we could consider ourselves of any worth is because God, in his infinite mercy, has decided to assign us value, despite our complete and total worthlessness.
You may have heard that before, especially if you have spent much time around Christians or the church. You have probably heard that about God. How he is so loving and merciful that he loves us in spite of how disgusting and sinful we are. That he accepts us, even though we are not acceptable. That he values us, even though he knows that we are worthless. What I would like to suggest to you, and the thing I "suggested" that night that started such a heated disagreement, is that this is a giant load of crap.
Now before anyone gets all excited, or any shouting has time to get started, hear me out. I know someone is already dying to ask if I'm suggesting that God doesn't love us in spite of our sins. I can clear that right up for you. I'm not suggesting it. I'm saying it outright.
Let me ask you to think about it this way. If you are a parent, think about your children for a moment. Really think about them. About all the things that make them unique and special, about all the ways they are different. About how each one of them is your own, and how you know them like no one else, and how you have your own love for each of them. And when you think of them, with all their quirks, and faults, and flaws--even though, let's be honest, sometimes we want to kill them--when you think of your own special dear ones, how could any of us say that we love them in spite of their failings? Or would we say, instead, that we love them with those things? Of course we don't love the failings themselves, or the weaknesses and brokenness that we see in our children that we know will hurt them. And we hope they will grow through those things, and conquer those things, and we work with them, help them, guide them, support them to do that. But we love them, with all those things as a part of them, as a part of what makes them the unique creations they are at this moment in time. Not in spite of those things.
We have fallen for a lie about God. We have fallen for the lie that he accepts us reluctantly. That he looks at us as worthless, but agrees to take us on anyway, simply because of his own goodness. We have acted as if our sins make us repulsive to him, but that he holds his nose and takes us in. We have taught ourselves to believe that is spiritual, even Biblical. We have called it "humility," and "not thinking too much of ourselves." And I'm sorry, but this is NOT what God tells us.
God tells us that he loves us as we are, that we have worth to him, that we are valuable as we are. He loves us not in spite of our sin, but with it. I know that right away someone is going to object, and start talking about how much God hates sin, and how he is a holy God, and so on and so forth. But the fact is, I haven't disagreed with that. I'm not talking about how God feels about sin. I'm just talking about how God feels about us. And how he feels about sin doesn't change that.
We have such a hard time with this, we struggle with this. I believe it's because that lie speaks to something deep within us. We know our own failings all too well. It's too easy to believe in our own flaws, our own inadequacy, our own insecurities. It's much harder to believe in being the Beloved. So hard, in fact, that we want to push back against it, find "evidence" against it--some apparently even find it worth actually fighting over.
But you see, that's the message of the Bible. From the very beginning, when God made us in his own image, proclaiming that his creation was thoroughly good, through the Psalmist's celebration of how we are each fearfully and wonderfully made, to Paul's affirmation to the Ephesians that we are God's own workmanship, God tells us that we are far from worthless, have never been worthless. Quite the opposite. In Deuteronomy 7:6 (I know, I know, who looks at Deuteronomy? Try it just this once, it won't hurt you.), God says that he's chosen us to be a people for his own possession. You will find it again in Deuteronomy 26:18 (OK, so I lied. Look there twice.), where it tells us that we're his people, a treasured possession. Again, in Titus 2:14, we hear that we're a people for his own possession. Now, in English, that might not seem like much. But in the language of the Bible, in each of those texts, the words that are used are words that mean a king's most valuable treasure--his special, prized, most beloved possession. Did you hear that? I am his special possession, not his special project. His most treasured, valuable Beloved. Me. With my big mouth, and my proud heart, and my muffin top. With all my faults and flaws, all my shame, and the mistakes and failures of my past, and the ones of my present, and of my future. Me, just as I am, I'm the Beloved, and so are you.
And what does that mean for our being less valuable than something like gold that supposedly has "inherent value"? I'll gladly tell you. First of all, inherent value is an oxymoron and a lie. Value is ALWAYS externally assigned. Gold, like any other gem or metal, is nothing but a rock. It's a rock that has been assigned a changing value by different cultures over time. The value is constantly in flux, just like that of any other substance. One of the most famous stories of the Bible is about a woman who poured some very expensive perfume on Jesus' feet, an ointment called nard. The whole point of the story is about the incredibly high value of her gift. Suppose I told you that I have a five-gallon bucket of nard sitting next to me right now. Would you give me a quarter for it? I didn't think so. The assigned value of all these things changes, when the conditions or people that determine their value change. But our value is assigned by God. He is the one who says that we have worth, that we are precious, and guess what? He will never go out of power, or go out of fashion, or go out of date. He will never change his mind. So our value as the Beloved, while externally assigned, is assigned by one who has existed since before time, will exist for all eternity, and is the same yesterday, today, and tomorrow. And that is the closest thing to inherent value there will ever be in this world. It leaves gold, diamonds, nard, and everything else in the dust. We are the Beloved, and that is the most valuable thing there is. Period.
At this point, you may be starting to think I sound pretty full of myself. I seem to be pretty excited about how great God thinks I am. I understand your concern. We all have a tendency to go too far in one direction or another, and we all know some people who have done that. They are pretty sure that God loves them just a bit more than the rest of us. That he thinks they are perfect, just the way they are. Some have even made the serious error of calling that spiritual, even Biblical. They've called it "confidence," and "righteousness," and "claiming our blessing," when in fact, it's simple pride. But let me reassure you, that's not what it means to be the Beloved either. Because when you know what it means to be the Beloved, you understand that it is ALL of us, and it's through nothing special that you have done. I'm going to quote one of my favorite preachers now, my preacher, Randy Boltinghouse, who gave one of the best explanations I've ever heard of how, when you know you are the Beloved, you won't go one way or the other. You will have both true humility and true confidence. Here's how he described what that will look like: "I don't think more of myself, and I don't think less of myself. I think of myself less."
And that last bit brings me, finally, to why all this is so important. Because that's the real question, isn't it? Why does this matter? And I want to assure you, it does matter, and it matters a great deal. There's a Catholic theologian I love, named Henri Nouwen, who has written extensively about this subject, and he says that "being the Beloved is the core truth of our existence." That's a big claim. But I believe it's true, and here's why. Because the message of the gospel, the message God has for you and me, is the message of reconciliation. "Reconciliation" just means "getting right." It means getting right first with God and ourselves, and then with others around us. Getting right with God and with ourselves has to happen before we are able to get right with anyone else, and I mean anyone. And getting right with God and with ourselves means understanding who we are as God's Beloved. That's the road to freedom.
If we cannot understand and accept ourselves as the Beloved, we will never be able to move to that place of freedom where every interaction doesn't have to be about us. We will never be able to get past our insecurities and our anxieties with our co-workers, our family members, our friends, our kids, and our partners. Every difficult parenting moment will have to be filled with the fear that we have lost our kids' affection, or our offended pride that they have disrespected us. Every exchange with friends will have to be motivated by our insecurity about whether we will experience their acceptance or their rejection. Every day that we spend, either in a happy romance, or out of one, will have to be experienced as a measure of our own worth and desirability.
We will never be able to receive the love that is offered by the people in our lives without questioning its authenticity. We will never be able to offer true love in return, because we won't be able to set aside our own insecurity and fear of rejection and risk making ourselves vulnerable to others. We won't be able to give to our families, our friends, our children, our lovers, with the best we have to offer, because we will not have that true confidence and humility that lets us think of them first and ourselves less. And that would be a tragedy, because we are all, all of us, more than that.
So here is what I'd like to say to you. No matter how spiritual it sounds, no matter how your sneaky heart may whisper to you that it is true. No matter who may have said it to you before, even if it was your mother, or your teacher, or a preacher on a Bible teaching video. Please. Don't buy the lie. No one may have ever told you this before, but you can begin right now, from this moment, to know that you are the Beloved. You can think like it, act like it, live like it. Because that is who you are. And that's the truth.
Now, I know what you're thinking. What on earth could get people so riled up in a Bible study that there would be that kind of behavior? Well, I'm going to tell you. Many times, in a Bible study group, people will use a study book or watch a teaching video, and at this particular study, we were watching a video by a very well-known and highly respected Bible teacher. I'm not going to tell you his name, because I'm just about to say some things he would find extremely disagreeable.
In this video, the preacher who shall not be named was teaching that we--humans--need to learn that we do not have inherent value. In other words, it's very important that we understand that we are not valuable in and of ourselves. We're not actually valuable, unlike real valuable things such as gold, for example. In fact, we have no inherent value at all. The only reason we could consider ourselves of any worth is because God, in his infinite mercy, has decided to assign us value, despite our complete and total worthlessness.
You may have heard that before, especially if you have spent much time around Christians or the church. You have probably heard that about God. How he is so loving and merciful that he loves us in spite of how disgusting and sinful we are. That he accepts us, even though we are not acceptable. That he values us, even though he knows that we are worthless. What I would like to suggest to you, and the thing I "suggested" that night that started such a heated disagreement, is that this is a giant load of crap.
Now before anyone gets all excited, or any shouting has time to get started, hear me out. I know someone is already dying to ask if I'm suggesting that God doesn't love us in spite of our sins. I can clear that right up for you. I'm not suggesting it. I'm saying it outright.
Let me ask you to think about it this way. If you are a parent, think about your children for a moment. Really think about them. About all the things that make them unique and special, about all the ways they are different. About how each one of them is your own, and how you know them like no one else, and how you have your own love for each of them. And when you think of them, with all their quirks, and faults, and flaws--even though, let's be honest, sometimes we want to kill them--when you think of your own special dear ones, how could any of us say that we love them in spite of their failings? Or would we say, instead, that we love them with those things? Of course we don't love the failings themselves, or the weaknesses and brokenness that we see in our children that we know will hurt them. And we hope they will grow through those things, and conquer those things, and we work with them, help them, guide them, support them to do that. But we love them, with all those things as a part of them, as a part of what makes them the unique creations they are at this moment in time. Not in spite of those things.
We have fallen for a lie about God. We have fallen for the lie that he accepts us reluctantly. That he looks at us as worthless, but agrees to take us on anyway, simply because of his own goodness. We have acted as if our sins make us repulsive to him, but that he holds his nose and takes us in. We have taught ourselves to believe that is spiritual, even Biblical. We have called it "humility," and "not thinking too much of ourselves." And I'm sorry, but this is NOT what God tells us.
God tells us that he loves us as we are, that we have worth to him, that we are valuable as we are. He loves us not in spite of our sin, but with it. I know that right away someone is going to object, and start talking about how much God hates sin, and how he is a holy God, and so on and so forth. But the fact is, I haven't disagreed with that. I'm not talking about how God feels about sin. I'm just talking about how God feels about us. And how he feels about sin doesn't change that.
We have such a hard time with this, we struggle with this. I believe it's because that lie speaks to something deep within us. We know our own failings all too well. It's too easy to believe in our own flaws, our own inadequacy, our own insecurities. It's much harder to believe in being the Beloved. So hard, in fact, that we want to push back against it, find "evidence" against it--some apparently even find it worth actually fighting over.
But you see, that's the message of the Bible. From the very beginning, when God made us in his own image, proclaiming that his creation was thoroughly good, through the Psalmist's celebration of how we are each fearfully and wonderfully made, to Paul's affirmation to the Ephesians that we are God's own workmanship, God tells us that we are far from worthless, have never been worthless. Quite the opposite. In Deuteronomy 7:6 (I know, I know, who looks at Deuteronomy? Try it just this once, it won't hurt you.), God says that he's chosen us to be a people for his own possession. You will find it again in Deuteronomy 26:18 (OK, so I lied. Look there twice.), where it tells us that we're his people, a treasured possession. Again, in Titus 2:14, we hear that we're a people for his own possession. Now, in English, that might not seem like much. But in the language of the Bible, in each of those texts, the words that are used are words that mean a king's most valuable treasure--his special, prized, most beloved possession. Did you hear that? I am his special possession, not his special project. His most treasured, valuable Beloved. Me. With my big mouth, and my proud heart, and my muffin top. With all my faults and flaws, all my shame, and the mistakes and failures of my past, and the ones of my present, and of my future. Me, just as I am, I'm the Beloved, and so are you.
And what does that mean for our being less valuable than something like gold that supposedly has "inherent value"? I'll gladly tell you. First of all, inherent value is an oxymoron and a lie. Value is ALWAYS externally assigned. Gold, like any other gem or metal, is nothing but a rock. It's a rock that has been assigned a changing value by different cultures over time. The value is constantly in flux, just like that of any other substance. One of the most famous stories of the Bible is about a woman who poured some very expensive perfume on Jesus' feet, an ointment called nard. The whole point of the story is about the incredibly high value of her gift. Suppose I told you that I have a five-gallon bucket of nard sitting next to me right now. Would you give me a quarter for it? I didn't think so. The assigned value of all these things changes, when the conditions or people that determine their value change. But our value is assigned by God. He is the one who says that we have worth, that we are precious, and guess what? He will never go out of power, or go out of fashion, or go out of date. He will never change his mind. So our value as the Beloved, while externally assigned, is assigned by one who has existed since before time, will exist for all eternity, and is the same yesterday, today, and tomorrow. And that is the closest thing to inherent value there will ever be in this world. It leaves gold, diamonds, nard, and everything else in the dust. We are the Beloved, and that is the most valuable thing there is. Period.
At this point, you may be starting to think I sound pretty full of myself. I seem to be pretty excited about how great God thinks I am. I understand your concern. We all have a tendency to go too far in one direction or another, and we all know some people who have done that. They are pretty sure that God loves them just a bit more than the rest of us. That he thinks they are perfect, just the way they are. Some have even made the serious error of calling that spiritual, even Biblical. They've called it "confidence," and "righteousness," and "claiming our blessing," when in fact, it's simple pride. But let me reassure you, that's not what it means to be the Beloved either. Because when you know what it means to be the Beloved, you understand that it is ALL of us, and it's through nothing special that you have done. I'm going to quote one of my favorite preachers now, my preacher, Randy Boltinghouse, who gave one of the best explanations I've ever heard of how, when you know you are the Beloved, you won't go one way or the other. You will have both true humility and true confidence. Here's how he described what that will look like: "I don't think more of myself, and I don't think less of myself. I think of myself less."
And that last bit brings me, finally, to why all this is so important. Because that's the real question, isn't it? Why does this matter? And I want to assure you, it does matter, and it matters a great deal. There's a Catholic theologian I love, named Henri Nouwen, who has written extensively about this subject, and he says that "being the Beloved is the core truth of our existence." That's a big claim. But I believe it's true, and here's why. Because the message of the gospel, the message God has for you and me, is the message of reconciliation. "Reconciliation" just means "getting right." It means getting right first with God and ourselves, and then with others around us. Getting right with God and with ourselves has to happen before we are able to get right with anyone else, and I mean anyone. And getting right with God and with ourselves means understanding who we are as God's Beloved. That's the road to freedom.
If we cannot understand and accept ourselves as the Beloved, we will never be able to move to that place of freedom where every interaction doesn't have to be about us. We will never be able to get past our insecurities and our anxieties with our co-workers, our family members, our friends, our kids, and our partners. Every difficult parenting moment will have to be filled with the fear that we have lost our kids' affection, or our offended pride that they have disrespected us. Every exchange with friends will have to be motivated by our insecurity about whether we will experience their acceptance or their rejection. Every day that we spend, either in a happy romance, or out of one, will have to be experienced as a measure of our own worth and desirability.
We will never be able to receive the love that is offered by the people in our lives without questioning its authenticity. We will never be able to offer true love in return, because we won't be able to set aside our own insecurity and fear of rejection and risk making ourselves vulnerable to others. We won't be able to give to our families, our friends, our children, our lovers, with the best we have to offer, because we will not have that true confidence and humility that lets us think of them first and ourselves less. And that would be a tragedy, because we are all, all of us, more than that.
So here is what I'd like to say to you. No matter how spiritual it sounds, no matter how your sneaky heart may whisper to you that it is true. No matter who may have said it to you before, even if it was your mother, or your teacher, or a preacher on a Bible teaching video. Please. Don't buy the lie. No one may have ever told you this before, but you can begin right now, from this moment, to know that you are the Beloved. You can think like it, act like it, live like it. Because that is who you are. And that's the truth.
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