It was just before midnight and after a busy shift at work. I was tired and more than ready to go home. After passing by the Christmas lights display in town, I realized that the car behind me was acting erratically. I continued to drive the speed limit, following the laws. The car behind me opted to illegally pass me on the bridge (without a passing zone). Just on the other side of the bridge, it slowed down in front of me, signaled to turn right, but didn’t. It pulled into the gas station up ahead on the left, so I was glad to turn right thinking that it wouldn’t be my problem. I then heard it’s tires squealing as it turned around – out of the gas station and onto the road I had just turned onto. It began flashing it’s lights furiously. Again, the car sped up, passed me illegally, slowed down to a stop, forcing me to slow down and drive around him as he was hanging out of his window yelling something. Up ahead, I turned left – he followed, and again, flashed his lights, he sped up, passed me illegally (there aren’t any passing zones on this particular street), slowed down to a stop, and forced me to go around slowly. I began to wonder: “Is this guy trying to cause a collision?” “Is he on something?” It wasn’t long before he did it again – once or twice more (same street, still no passing zones). Once he got wise to the fact that I’d just go around – he angled his car in such a way that nobody could go around in the other lane. By this time, I could feel how afraid I was – my pulse was racing and my breathing had quickened. A maniac in a car had followed me out into the middle of nowhere section of the countryside, miles and miles away from anyone, anywhere. I could see him getting out of his car and walking my way and all I could think was that this was like something out of a movie that didn’t have a happy ending. My passenger helped me keep my cool, “Throw on the brights.” He suggested, knowing that it would daze the guy. My passenger used the distraction to great effect, throwing open the door and surprising the crazy driver – confronting him. The crazy driver claimed that our tire was about to fall off. Something about him seemed off – it’s a thing that you know it when you see it, but you can’t really describe why; a gut instinct, perhaps. It wasn’t a believable story – after all, our car was driving normally, there wasn’t any wobble or any indication of tire trouble. Not only that, my passenger is a car guy and wouldn’t let an unsafe car on the road. Whenever there’s the slightest indication of trouble, he has me take one of the other vehicles and checks it out. The crazy driver gets back into his car and drives forward on down the road. When he’s out of sight, my passenger checks our tires and sees that they’re perfectly normal. A few minutes later, a SUV pulls up behind us – it’s a co-worker who lives in the same area I do. We told her what was up and let her know that we were just fine. My passenger opts to take over driving, I didn’t object – I had had enough for one night. So we headed down the road, and my co-worker followed along behind. Up ahead, the crazy guy was stopped on the road. He let us pass and we went up ahead. When we lost sight of my co-worker’s lights, we turned around and went back. She had parked a safe distance away from the crazy driver right where it turns off to another road. We parked alongside her and asked her what was going on. She said that he had flagged her down with some story about being broken down and he had asked her to help him push his car off to the side of the road. She declined and said that she would pull off the road up ahead and call the police to come and give him some help. Given his erratic behavior, we opted to stay with her. At some point, the crazy driver turned off his lights, he coaxed his supposedly broken-down car back to life and started to turn around. And that point, we agreed with my co-worker that it was the opportune moment to drive away in the other direction. The rest of the drive was understandably tense – but we finally made it home safe and sound. Perhaps the scariest thing about what happened are the unknowns: “Is this guy trying to be a good Samaritan or does he have a nefarious plan?” “Is he on meth or something that makes him a dangerous person?” “If we really did have a bad tire, how would have continually forcing me to avoid hitting him have helped the tire?” “Wouldn’t it have just made things worse?” “Did he think I was alone and therefore an easy target?” “Why the different story with my co-worker?” Perhaps we’ll never know all the reasons, but if anything, my story shows that making all the right decisions can make the biggest difference in whether or not everything has a moderately happy ending. So this holiday season, beware of really bad good Samaritans who supposedly break down after following you into the middle of nowhere and happen to pose a significant danger. Being safe is more important than putting yourself in danger to do what might seem like a good deed.
Growing up, I had been taught that Christians can lose pieces of their heart through broken soul ties. It was a fancy way of saying that anyone who has premarital sex has seriously sinned. I still have the little booklet with the picture of a heart on one page that has missing pieces, ripped out and cut out alike. I eventually discovered that pretty much every Christian kid of my generation had the same speech in some way, shape, or form. Some were taught that they became like “damaged goods”, a doughnut that’s been passed around, a package of candy somebody else opened, a wad of gum left over that somebody else chewed. Ultimately, as people we would be worthless and soulless. The next page of that booklet featured some strange math that basically meant the more you give away your love, the less love you have to give.
“It doesn’t matter how many new haircuts you get, or gyms you join, or how many glasses of chardonnay you drink with your girlfriends… you still go to bed every night going over every detail and wonder what you did wrong or how you could have misunderstood. And how in the hell for that brief moment you could think that you were that happy. And sometimes you can even convince yourself that he’ll see the light and show up at your door. And after all that, however long all that may be, you’ll go somewhere new. And you’ll meet people who make you feel worthwhile again. And little pieces of your soul will finally come back. And all that fuzzy stuff, those years of your life that you wasted, that will eventually begin to fade.” – Iris, “The Holiday”
When I heard this monologue, I realized that it had a hopeful thought: “pieces of your soul come back.” That’s not something that churches taught. We were taught that in Christ, we had forgiveness, but we could never have wholeness. Only recently have I learned that the origin of the “pieces of heart” teaching is from Bill Gothard’s ministry. If this teaching is evidence of whether or not the tree is good – then it is proof positive that the tree is a very bad one. There’s no shortage of stories on the internet about members of my generation who believed that they were worthless, who lived in fear, who filled themselves up with pride for being fully obedient while others gave into the temptation to sin. To this day, many struggle with love because everything they were taught about it was wrong.
Ultimately, this teaching damages one’s own self-esteem. It tells you that your ability to love is limited; you only have so much to give and then there’ll be no love left to live on. It tells you that worth or value is dependent on your behavior; that if you act the wrong way that God will love you less than if you acted the right way. Anybody could see that as a horrible misinterpretation of Scripture in any other context:
“Your ability to tell the truth is limited. You only have so much truth to give, then you only have lies left to live on. Your worth is dependent on you telling the truth. The more lies you tell, the less God loves you.”
Anyone would say: “No, God loves everyone regardless of their sin.” “Your worth isn’t dependent on how you behave, to God you’re worth dying for just because he loves you.” “Love never fails.” But when it comes in the context of dating and relationships, this bad teaching goes unchallenged and unchecked.
And now that an entire generation has grown up under it’s flawed guidance, we can see the result – extremely high rates of singleness, most young people putting off marriage, some even deciding against getting married at all, and even the mostly “godly” marriages fraught with as many problems as regular marriages. Sadly, there are many out there who still teach these things, perpetuating the destruction of self-esteem and pouring onto those open wounds with guilt and shame.
This bad tree has planted the seeds of a horrible forest, please stop trying to be guides through it – rather, let it go and find another way – a better way – a less destructive way. Help us to put our souls back together and to not to live in fear of losing them in the first place.
Growing up, I learned the ABCs (Admit, Believe, Confess) of FAITH (Forsaking All, I Trust Him). So long as I admit that Jesus is my savior, believe that Jesus is my savior, confess that Jesus is my savior and forsake all others as I trust Him alone, then my salvation is assured. It’s a pretty individualistic message; usually individualistic given that it’s not uncommon for stories in the Bible to report the conversion of one person to Christianity usually meant the rest of his or her household also converted into Christianity. Faith was a collective experience. Not only you and your family shared the same faith, but with any luck, so did everyone else around you; same faith and same values.
We’re an individualistic society – that’s how we read and apply the Bible. God’s promise to captive Israelites being marched to Babylon is interpreted as God’s promise to each and every one of us to give us a good life, to protect us, to provide for us no matter what happens – he has our backs. So we would view the promise of salvation as saving ourselves – whereas the ancient believers would have turned down any concept of salvation where their entire family couldn’t be saved as well.
This tendency creates a sort of righteous isolation – I’m being saved, I have the truth, I will go to heaven; who cares about the unsaved, who don’t have the truth and who won’t go to heaven? Something of this thinking gives people permission to cut out from their lives anyone that could jeopardize their salvation – an inconvenient relative or friend who just doesn’t share their values or makes them question their own faith or doesn’t get how important faith is. Such thinking would never have been possible in the ancient world – where families were strongly connected, where communities were closely bound, where friends were as family, where clients where as family, where relationships were at the core of everything.
Walking away from those relationships was to lose one’s identity, one’s security, one’s future, one’s past, one’s hope – yet Jesus promised new relationships to replace the ones that had been lost for those who would believe in him; for giving up a flesh-and-blood family, they would be part of a greater spiritual family with one father – God himself. Our culture doesn’t give us many parallels – perhaps during the Civil War when brother fought brother, or during the Civil Rights era when one marched on one side and the other fought to hold down traditions. Perhaps it’s the cutting off of a LGBTQ teenager to show him or her tough love to snap them back to their senses and return home as the prodigal children that they are. For some reason, many Christians feel justified in sacrificing some relationships for the church. Forsaking all others indeed.
I wish that shared faith wasn’t a non-negotiable prerequisite to be associated with them for these people – because it’s so strange to stand across the table from somebody I used to know from church and from somebody who used to know me from church knowing that I haven’t changed and they haven’t changed, but the relationship we had isn’t the same. Trying to talk politely around the church issue without broaching the subject. Perhaps this spiritual family is too much like a flesh-and-blood family and when relatives are on opposite sides – you know the saying, a house divided falls.
Continuing from my earlier thoughts, it strikes me as vitally important to get some idea of what “loving” is. I remember being told some variation of this concept awhile ago:
When people had wood-burning stoves, parents would tell their young children, “Don’t touch the stove, you’ll get burned.” The parent knew the danger the stove represented and wanted to spare the beloved child from the pain of being burned. The child, having no concept of “burned”, thinks that everything the parent says “no” to must be fun – so he or she reaches up and touches the stove – instantly, he or she fully comprehends what a burn feels like having painfully received one. Not only that, he or she realizes that the commandment to not do something was based in love and a desire for his or her well-being. It would not be loving for that parent to not warn their child of the danger of the fact that they would get burned or shocked from sticking things into an outlet. That’s why Christians are commanded to warn sinners of the dangers that Hell represents, it would not be loving to let them remain in sin and get burned.
One thing I had always hated about that logic is that in that parallel, Christians see themselves as the loving parent and all sinners of all ages as the toddler or disobedient young child. It doesn’t matter that the “sinner” in question is actually older than the Christian; it doesn’t matter that they’re total strangers. It’s the same thinking that allows a Christian to go to that “sinner”, push him or her over, and shout something like: “In the name of Jesus Christ of Nazareth, I cast you out demon! Leave! Begone!” This is, the Christian thinks, an expression of God’s love. This is, the “sinner” thinks, a crazy person who for no apparent reason has knocked him or her over and began shouting something bizarre (that’s not an exaggeration, by the way – but something that has actually happened in the name of Christian love). The Christian gives him or herself the power to decide that as the mature one, as the one who defines what is loving, then he or she must act, or else do the “unloving” thing by not warning the “sinner” of his or her fate. This, of course, a judgement call, as they don’t know that this “sinner” came to faith as a child and is just as much a Christian as they are in God’s eyes. The Christian can only see an instance of sin being committed and decides that anyone who sins must be a sinner as Christians don’t sin and it’s impossible for sinners to be Christians.
Christians do have 1 Corinthians 13 as a guideline – a basic Christian definition of love. But not everyone lives by the book and wouldn’t consider being bossed about or pushed over by total strangers as loving by any definition they know. Perhaps one of the best secular concepts of love is to “do no harm.” The same flaw extend even here, though – so it would seem the problem isn’t in the message, but in the transmission. It gets caught up, jumbled, and received in a way different than what was intended. The Christian after all, has been taught that being warned of the consequences of sin – and going to just about any lengths to do so is loving, and that’s why some of them do just that. It’s not the same message that other Christians get though, and those who aren’t Christians don’t see it that way either. In this, humility seems to be a vital ingredient, one that takes the Christian out of the position of power. He or she will need to consider that others might not have the same definition of “loving” – after all, it’s probably the most difficult concept to define in a way that everyone agrees with exactly. It’s difficult to define what loving is, but being unloving is something that’s easier to define – it’s what loving is not. It’s being judgmental, it’s pushing people over, it’s shouting bizarre statements, it’s all these things and more that make that other person feel as if they’re despised or shameful.
I don’t look like I speak Spanish. My ancestry is predominantly Irish, with some French, German, English, and Scottish thrown in there somewhere. As a result, I’m on the paler spectrum of skin types, with sort-of blonde hair and blue eyes. A number of my customers are obviously Latino – mostly hailing from Mexico. They look like they speak Spanish – and so far, they all seem to. But I know that statistically, that’s not always the case. For some reason or another, many second-generation Latinos don’t always know their parent’s language. I don’t want to make them uncomfortable or a situation awkward by speaking Spanish to them assuming that just because they look like they should speak Spanish that they will. So for the first while, I tend not to speak in Spanish until I hear my customers speaking Spanish to each other.
Then I speak Spanish to them. Usually, they’re quite surprised – asking some variation of: “Since when do you speak Spanish?” “Have you spoken Spanish long?” “Do you know a lot of Spanish?” It’s true, I’m quite familiar with Spanish, I’ve studied it off and on for years – and through DuoLingo – I know that pretty much everyday for the last two years I’ve managed to review a lot of it – but I still find myself unprepared to speak a lot of it. The only way to really fix that is to actually speak it, stumble over making glorious mistakes, and learning as I go to develop an ear for hearing it spoken quite rapidly.
I’m getting better, I can tell – though it’s not as quickly as I’d like. My main goal is to get better at understanding others and communicating clearly enough that I’m understood – even if it’s not grammatically perfect. I still try my best to be respectful – Latinos may be a working class, and often taken advantage of – it doesn’t mean that they don’t deserve to be treated with dignity – we all do, but they’re also deeply committed to their families and we could learn a lot from them if only we’d learn a little humility first.
America’s actually on track to have just as many (if not more) Spanish speakers than Spain, in the years to come, it might be more and more common to see mainstream t.v. shows featuring Spanish-language programming rather than just on Univision and Telemundo. The time to learn a language isn’t when you need it, it’s long before you need it but know you’ll use it down the line.
¿Ustedes hablan español? Es difícil saber cuándo hablar español? (Do y’all speak Spanish? Is it difficult to know when to speak Spanish?) If not, can you speak other languages other than English and do you have the same difficulties?
“Oh, it would be nice to be eighteen again.”
“I, for one, am happy to be the age I am.”
“You say that now, but when you’re my age you’ll be wishing you were younger.”
This exchange reminded me of one of the more interesting episodes of Twilight Zone – and a great point about memory. The episode is the story of a man who constantly talks about the past – how great the fair was when he was a kid, the best sweets and shakes to eat, and uncontested excellent television shows. In the course of the episode, he finds himself in the past – as an adult by-stander watching himself as a kid going about his day. It struck him how he didn’t remember that the street was so busy and dirty as a kid. Then some bullies appeared and ruined his day. The adult version realized that what he was remembering was the best of the best, but not what had really happened.
When these elders were thinking back to how great it was to be eighteen, they were thinking about being eighteen as it was decades in the past. Being a teenager in the late sixties to early seventies would be a whole different matter compared to being a teenager right here, right now.
Born in the late 1990s, younger millenials grew up in a world where the internet and cellphones were ubiquitous. Aside from the advanced technology, school shootings increased – with a big tragic one making the news every few years (or couple of months in a bad year.) America’s foreign policy position turned into a prolonged occupation and finally a withdraw from the Middle East. A major recession sent shock-waves through the economy, housing went into a free-fall, with the banks breaking Wall Street in order to get rich. Christians had a particularly difficult year – given the rise of “I kissed dating goodbye” as well as the emphasis on biblical marriage in order to take a stand against marriage equality. Christians lost on that score – with the conversation now being moved to transgender and gender identity questions. The rules seemed to constantly shift – but the millenials managed to take it all in stride.
Being eighteen, young and healthy, in the prime of life – is pretty great. No major health scares (unless you’re one of the ones who had to fight for your life as a teenager.) But being eighteen in the sixties or in the seventies is one thing, being eighteen here and now is another. The world has really changed and it’s not going back. I guess the lesson out of all of this is that the millenials will one day be the elders who will miss being eighteen – but they might not miss all the bad news that came with being eighteen.
Thing is – for every eighteen year old – no matter what year it is – they don’t have a choice. They have to take the good with the bad. They get to enjoy awesome concerts and disappointed elders who won’t be happy until they’re working and/or married as soon as possible. They get to be on the right side of history and deal with everyone else who’ll be remembered as being on the wrong side of history. Some eighteen year olds have to fight so much harder than others – and others seem to have it easy. Eighteen has always been a tough age – and so has every other age. We should enjoy where we’re at – not everyone gets to make it that far. We should look to make each day memorable and a good one. And when it’s a bad day, then we should find someone to keep us company to make it easier. As the old song goes – the sun will come up tomorrow.