The Family - The Christian Elite and the Myth of Godliness

It was a glorious day yesterday . . . bight sun, blue seas, white-capped mountains surrounding flat green lowlands of vegetables and berries. I really wanted to go home after work to do a long bike ride (needing exercise badly after a week of being on the road) however it came to my attention that I had an important dinner meeting.

I took the drive up the coast to the meeting. I can’t complain. The meeting is along one of the top scenic highways in America, Chuckanut Drive and yesterday she was in her prime. I had the top off the jeep and could smell the firs and the sea.

As I drove I heard a preview on NPR of the coming Fresh Air program. Fresh Air was starting at the same time (6:30 PM) as the dinner meeting. I pulled into the restaurant’s parking lot and continued to listen . . . all the way until about 7. Fortunately, the only thing I had missed in the meeting were cocktails and a social time.

The thing that had grabbed my attention by Fresh Air was the topic. It was an interview with Jeff Sharlet about his new book, “The Family.” I encourage you to read the out-takes of the interview here (or even download the podcast of the entire program).

In summary, The Family is a secret Evangelical organization among the movers and shakers in Washington. It was started in the 1930s (if I remember right) by a man who had a strange vision from God. In the vision the founder was told that the way to reach the world for Christ was to reach the hearts of the people in power and help them to think like Jesus, or to become "godly" in other words.

I know that I am not naive. I do realize that NPR has an agenda . . . okay, more like a slant than an agenda. However, personally, I find that they have less of an agenda than about any other radio-based news source (except possibly the BBC). I realize why this book was reviewed at this time and it is because two of the leaders of “The Family” have recently been caught in Adultery. One of them, Mark Sanford, actually admits now to a whole string of affairs. The media loves to gloat over Evangelicals caught in extreme hypocrisy . . . and who can blame them? We all hate pious people, especially when they are fakes . . . or flakes.

There is so much that I would love to comment about regarding The Family. But I will cherry pick two issues. Those issues include the concept of reaching those in power, and the myth of “godliness.”

This whole story reminded me when I was involved with The Navigators at the University of Kentucky. There was a phase that we passed through when the great emphasis was finding potential leaders. They philosophy went (just like with The Family) that if we reach the societal elite for Jesus, then we have a much better chance of winning the world for God.

One of the greatest proponents of this thought was a Nav staff guy at Eastern Kentucky U, named Nick. I got into a discussion with him once (he was very hard to talk to because he had extreme spiritual arrogance) after he gave a talk at a Nav conference to about 200 campus leaders. He said, “Never share the gospel with anyone sitting down. The problem is, if they are sitting down before the gospel, they will never do anything for the Lord. Instead, only share the gospel on the racket ball courts, or the running tracks or to people who are class presidents. These are the people who will change the world.”

I asked him at the end of the lecture, and in front of everyone, “What about someone sitting in a wheel chair?”

He put on his condescending face and responded, “Have you ever seen anyone in a wheelchair changing the world?” I was perplexed. I was eventually removed from leadership for being an trouble maker.

Nick was extremely hard-nosed . . . for the Lord of course. Everyone introduced him as the most godly man they knew. He got up early and ran five miles . . . for the Lord of course. He slept about 4 hours at night . . . for the Lord of course.

Nick disappeared once, for about a year. He was in his upper forties at the time. He re-appeared with a new, 20 year-old wife. She had been a student on the campus where he was leading the ministry. As far as we could tell, she wasn't a Christian . . . and if she was, a brand new one. However, we were never allowed to mention this, like the elephant in the room.

So there are several points that I wish I could make, if I had the space. One, is that the concept of Christian godliness is highly over-rated. Never trust a godly man or woman as there is no such thing. And, I wonder why Jesus never caught on to this theory about only reaching the elite in society. He must not have been very smart.

A Weekend in a Lutheran World - Is There a Place for Christian Pretentiousness? An Honest Question.

As an introduction, I will say that I just spent a long week end in a Lutheran world (my in-laws). In the reunion, there were 42 people. Out of that group there were six ordained Lutheran pastors, a daughter of a Lutheran pastor . . . and the rest, all Lutherans except for myself and my 5 kids. Even my daughter in-law is Lutheran.

But before this starts to sound critical, I will say that I have a real, honest question that they may have a better way of living. Yes, just like my Bible belt roots, the Lutheran Christian world is very pretentious . . . but in some ways it seems to work. The question I want to discuss further . . .is there a place where you give up on living honestly on the first floor and finally realize that life seems to work better up on the thirtieth?

Before I continue this thought I must explain what I mean by pretentious so that the reader’s connotation will not take them in a more extreme direction than I intended. The level of pretentiousness, which I’m talking about, is the common Christian variety. My personal Bible-belt heritage was full of it and I am sure my own personal, post-evangelical life is as well.

The late theologian Francis Schaeffer once spoke of the American culture of the 1960s as being an age of personal affluence and peace. The counter-culture hippies of that age labeled the acumination of these traits as the “plastic society.” Unlike the meaning of the word “plastic” today it had nothing to with credit cards (which didn’t even exist in the 60s) but referred to the facades held up by the American middle class to give the illusion of personal peace, moral goodness and affluence.

When the hippies revolted against the establishment (the Leave-it-to-Beaver, American-Christian culture of the 60s) for being the plastic society, Francis Schaeffer said the Church made a grave error. In his opinion the Church should have stood side by side with the hippies showing support in common opposition to that plastic society . . . pushing towards a more honest one. However, the Church reacted with the first battles of the coming culture wars. They condemned the long hair of the hippies, their loud music and the use of the “F” word . . . but, they did not listen to the other words, the actual message of the hippies that echoed from the megaphones in places like Berkley and Woodstock.

But this personal peace and moral goodness is the part I want to talk about as it relates to being pretentious in the Lutheran world, which I just experienced. Regarding the peace, what Schaeffer meant by this concept was very different than world peace (the absence of wars, which the society in the sixties did not oppose, such as the war in Vietnam) but a calm in your personal and family life.

Maintaining personal peace came to mean keeping calm in your life at all cost. In other words, it means keeping your life still like the mirrored surface of a quiet mountain lake. One stone or one bug landing on its surface will sent out rings of concentric ripples across it.

In order to keep this personal peace, certain things must not be said. A very general and proverbial example of this concept is the social more of never bringing up politics or religion among relatives at the table during the holidays. But this oath of silence would eventually mean, in this Lutheran cultural at least, the avoidance of questioning anything, the voicing of any feelings or the discussing of things without calmness (any part of life that is not consistent with the Christian ideal or moral goodness).

In my In-laws’ family, they never, ever speak of personal problems (besides brief mentioning of health concerns or bad crops). They never discuss controversial questions, or express displeasure in one another . . . while I know that on a deeper level there is great animosity between a few of them. However, personal problems certainly do exist—no less than any other family—but beneath the surface. I know this for a fact thanks to a few of us out-laws who do talk.

There have been some major family issues which stand like the elephant in the room . . . but never spoken of. The elephant sucks in his chest, sticks his trunk close to his chin, his tail between his legs and tries to hide behind a potted plant 1/80th his size and everyone tip-toes around him.

Before I continue with this Lutheran culture of pretentiousness and I talk about its possible benefits (or vices) I will, in contrast, mention a few points about my imperfect Bible-belt/Baptist culture.

In my culture, there was not an oath of silence at least not near as much. In Tennessee it is common to wear your dysfunctionality on your sleeves. The problem there, in my opinion, is that they have a very different form of pretentiousness. There, habitual sin and Christian, or at least Southern Baptist culture rest comfortably in the same bed (sometimes literally if you know what I mean—wink, wink). It would not be unusual for a family friend and deacon of my mother’s church to make the comment, “I went to church so drunk that I could hardly walk straight enough to take up the offering plates.” Then they would all belly-laugh. But that’s a different set of problems, which I will have to deal with at another time.

In this Lutheran culture, family and church are at the center of life. There is a precise protocol of behavior and verbiage. But does this type of pretentiousness have a good side? I don’t know but am just posing the question.

In the in-law group there have been eleven marriages, the longest (my mother and father in-law) 60 years and the shortest, (my niece and her husband), two years. Out of that group of marriages, there has only been one divorce and one separation, which of course if far better than the average. No one in that extended, Lutheran family has been arrested (that I know of), no one hooked on drugs (that I know of). No one has "come out of the closet" save one sister-in-law, once removed. So does holding firmly to the oath of silence, the pretending that the Christian ideal exist (even though it does not in the secret places) work?

I’m pretty confident that I am the least favorite of the in-laws. I’m not sure I know all the reasons as to why. Maybe a lot of it is my fault and my poor social skills. I don’t know the Lutheran lingo, how to properly sing in a Lutheran choir . . . but I do know how to eat Lutefisk. That must say something. I’ve learned to speak “farmer.” Some of the problem may have to do with the fact that I came and took their daughter 2000 miles away.

But I can’t help believing that I when I say things that break that code of silence I offend a lot of the family. It is not that uncommon that I find myself at the end of telling a long story only to see stoned-faced people quickly changing the topic in a spirit of social awkwardness. My stories might have dealt with friends, whose kids are on drugs, pastors running off with a woman in the church or etc.

This past weekend, I noticed once that all eight Lutheran pastors were sitting in the living room at the same time. I came very close to asking, “Where do you stand on the ordination of gays?” Why? I wanted to ask only because I’m a curious guy. I have no agenda. But that would have been a social disaster because I know that the complete spectrum of views exist among those family pastors so they would never talk about it in public . . . a personal peace issue.

I know that my wife, being a product of her culture just like I’m a product of mine, is most happy when we are smiling but not talking or asking questions.

My daughter once went from visiting my wife’s side of the family to seeing mine. On the plane back from Tennessee she made the comment, “Your family is certainly dysfunctional.” Well, besides freely talking about their fears, sorrows, grief and disagreements there is clear external signs that their system is not working out. I have one brother and two sisters. There are 9 marriages shared among that group of four (and I only account for one marriage).

So, does Christianity work better when it is pretentious? If there is a strong Christian tradition that when it is adhered to closely, meaning everything from sacraments to pot lucks (but never talk of where people really are in their beliefs or feelings) is that better? Maybe it is.

In closing, I will say the problem for me becomes a moral issue. I can restrain myself and never share my feelings, questions or disagreements . . . but eventually it must lead to lying. Faking emotions must eventually be joined by faking words. “Oh, I loved that song. Oh, I loved that message. I love the fact you sold my car for me (without asking me), I love the fact that you took off for eight hours with an old friend without telling me. Keep smiling. Oh, I love everything and everyone. I love all political views.

A Quick Word About Michael

We just resurfaced from the concrete river heading east. Seeing the Internet again, and CNN I noticed every where is plastered the news of Michael's death.

I was just thinking again, with a Christian monist perspective (believing that this physical world has great value in God's eyes) I would say that Michael's talent was a reflection of God Himself. His voice, lyrics, dance . . . all, to me, shouts of God's greatness. You don't have to divide art into "Christian" Vs "Non-Christian" forms to know if you should appreciated them. I believe that you can deeply enjoy incredible videos like "Thriller" without guilt . . . or fear that demons are behind every bush.

He, of course, became the punching bag from many Evangelicals because of his presumed guilt of child molestation. I give him the benefit of a doubt. Maybe he had poor judgment in a lot of areas . . . but most of us do.

Thanks Michael for sharing God's creativity with us. I hope that you got to know the real Jesus Himself.

Road Trip & Late Night (Christian) Radio

Okay, it wasn’t that late but it did remind me of an old John Denver song by the same name (Late-Night Radio) and I was getting sleepy. Everyone else in the car was already in deep somber but me. We were far removed from our jagged and wet coastal N. Cascades and journeying across the rolling and dry eastern Washington plain. There is a sharp contrast between the liberal, new-agers who live on our rocky island and this cowboy land.

My NPR station out of Seattle was fading in the back shadow of the mountains. With more static than words (or classical music) I gave up and hit the seek button on the radio. It spun through the entire range of the dial and came to a very loud and clear Christian station. I’m not a fan of Christian radio although Denise still is. I hit the button again. It spun through the entire hertz of frequency and rested back on the Christian station just like shooing a seagull from your picnic table at the beach, only to have it circle high in the air and land right back were it was.

The radio was broadcasting a children’s program and it blared so loudly that it awaken everyone in the car . . . including me. The radio kids were singing sweetly and with great enthusiasm about Noah or Peter and the other fishermen. It reminded me of our countless road trips in our old blue VW van with the kids were young. We didn’t rely on Christian radio that much but we had a whole library of evangelical, kids-tapes that sounded the same. Focus on the Family put out volumes of such material.

The next segment of the radio program was title (can’t remember for sure) “Uncle Bob’s Question Time.” That sounded interesting.

At this point I’m going to recreate that program as best as I can remember. I will try to keep my commentary to a minimal as I don’t want to sound critical again like I just can’t help myself from deconstructing everything Evangelical. I will let the reader (if there are any) deconstruct this in their own minds. My only point, and it’s a personal one, is that sometimes I am amazed how far I have drifted from my Evangelical roots. I started to diverge twenty years ago with a failed missionary experience. But the process has been gradual. So, while listening to this Christian radio, first I felt a kinship, remember the old days with James Dobson and the Adventures in Odyssey. But then when Uncle Bob started talking, I felt like I reside in a parallel (maybe a perpendicular) universe.

Setting: Uncle Bob’s voice is one of those playful ones that’s a little over the top—somewhat like Pee Wee Herman’s in his Big Playhouse. This episode began with an introduction. While whimsical music played Bob’s voice said, “Welcome to Uncle Bob’s Question Time. Boys and Girls did you know that every question that you will ever have has an answer in God’s word?” The music then decrescendos into silence.

Uncle Bob: Today we have a letter from one of our listeners in Kansas City, named Coy. Coy asks, ‘Uncle Bob . . . my uncle Dave died from AIDs last year. Will I get to see him in Heaven?’”

(Oddly Uncle Bob continues but begins his answer with a chuckle in his voice. Why is he happy about the poor girl’s uncle dying? Okay, sorry, I said I would try not to do commentary.)

Uncle Bob: “Well Coy, that is a great question! You know Heaven is a wonderful place. There will be no tears, no suffering, no regrets, no sorrows and no grief. So you will not miss your uncle because then you will be in Heaven.

But let’s turn to God’s word." (He turns to a passage in Matthew 19:4:

Haven't you read, he replied, 'that at the beginning the Creator made them male and female,'and said, 'For this reason a man will leave his father and mother and be united to his wife, and the two will become one flesh.'

You see, Jesus says that gay lifestyle is sin. You can not go to Heaven if you are in the gay lifestyle because Jesus says so. But you will not be sad about not seeing Dave when you are in Heaven because you will be with Jesus.

Also Coy, Dave would not be happy in Heaven anyway. In Heaven will only be people who love God and desire godliness. This will make people like Dave very uncomfortable.”

I didn’t notice that Ramsey and Amy, in the back seat, were wide awake and listening to this program. They immediately and simultaneously burst out laughing. I didn’t get the chance to ask them why because it is hard from me to hear them from the front driver’s seat when the car is loud.

So what is wrong with this? I really try not to be critical. There is so much in life that is wonderful and worthy to spend energy thinking about, so I have to learn to stay away from Christian radio. But sometimes, I forget how far I’ve diverged and I start tiptoeing back into the evangelical waters.

I know that I'm breaking my promise (about not deconstructing Uncle Bob) but I am left with a few questions. 1) Really Bob, the Bible has a very precise answer for every question? Then tell me who the were the Neanderthals and you are not allowed to use tangential meanings from obscure verses to answer that question? 2) Why does all knowing Uncle Bob assume that Dave died from AIDs because he was “practicing the gay lifestyle?” That’s a huge assumption (and they say, to “assume” is to make an ass out of u and me). 3) Okay, now assume (now I’m doing it) that Dave was, indeed gay. If we believe in a gospel where once we are saved, we are still not perfect, then how much gay sin discounts the entire gospel in that’s person’s life? This raises a very important question.

What I’m trying to say is, I’m sure (if he is like most Evangelicals) that Bob believes if George, a good Baptist minister, is caught bonking (is that a decent term?) one of the women in the church, does that sin of adultery nullify his entire conversion experience? I bet even uncle Bob would say no. So how does Dave having AIDs convince Bob that Dave had done something to pave his way to hell?

3) Lastly, so Bob is saying that Dave would RATHER experience hell’s fires for all eternity (and worse . . . separation from God) than be UNCOMFORTABLE around good Christian people in the glories of Heaven? I admit that we Christians are sometimes obnoxious, but that statement seems a little bizarre.

I just purchased a novel on CD so I can avoid radio for the rest of the trip and just enjoy the beauty of the landscape and the creative words of a great author.

Should Christians Feel?

I waken this morning with the taste of sadness in my mouth. It wasn’t a personal sadness but Barbara’s sadness by proxy. Barbara’s husband died suddenly last Wednesday. I thought of her waking up a lone each morning, after 50 years with the same man. How terrible. Maybe this is what they call empathy . . . the internalization of someone else’s feelings.

I also was thinking of the Iranians and couldn’t wait to turn on the news to see what was happening now that it was Monday night there. I switched on the TV and the news was over. I looked at the clock and it was 8:30. I had been awake at 6:00 as Denise left for work. I would have stayed up but I have the day off and allowed myself to drift off back to sleep.

I did find one news show . . . but I soon realized it was the 700 Club. I wouldn’t trust any news from their agenda. I’m sure before their broadcast is over they will somehow relate the Iranian uprising to Armageddon.

There must have been some forgotten dreams between 6 and 8 AM, something to do with Barbara . . . and the Iranians. I don’t remember the dreams but the feelings of their sadness was leaving a taste in mouth in the same way a flavor would have been left if I had eaten an onion and sardine sandwich in my sleep. After watching the movie, The Science of Sleep (a really weird but enjoyable movie), with Ramsey Saturday night I realize that Barbara and the Iranians may have been included in the same bizarre dream, driving around in cardboard cars (you have to see the movie).


One of the earliest memories of my childhood was standing in a department store, maybe J.C Penny’s or Sears. My mother was towering over me in her London Fog, beige, trench coat with her big hair and diamond-studded baroque glasses. I don’t know how old I was but it was during my preschool epoch of life.

My mother was speaking to another woman as only two mothers could. They were making a fuss about my brown eyes and who I got them from. Then I remember, as if it were yesterday, my mother looking down at me and telling the other lady (who is only a faint silhouette in my memory), “He’s a very sensitive child. He feels things very deeply.”

I think I remember this ancient event so clearly because prior to that moment I thought I was normal (now I realize that none of us are “normal.” Okay, maybe Jesus was the only normal man).

So, because this tendency for deep feelings had already made itself evident by age five, I suspect that there is a genetic influence although I’m sure my family culture eventually played a role as well.

But I still do feel things very deeply. I cried for a week when my friend Terry died and Denise kept trying to remind me, “You weren’t that close to Terry I don’t know why you are taking this so hard.” I’m sure if I was to spend a few hours on a psychiatrist’s leather couch that I would be eventually be diagnosed with some form of bipolar disorder (as practically everyone is these days). But it certainly is not the extreme type.

As I bicycled into town this morning, coming over the mountain with my glasses so fogged up I could make out the faint white line on the edge of the highway, my mind considered this whole concept of Christians, feelings and what is normal or not.

I woke up with another feeling this morning and that was one of dread. I’m leaving on a cross country trip tomorrow morning. The trip itself is the good part. While I’ve flown several times out of state this year, this is the first road trip in . . . at least six years. Okay, I took an Amtrak trip to LA three years ago. But to travel a long distance down with the earth is something I feel good about.

The part that I dread is that I’m going to a big family reunion with my wife’s side of the family. Of course I like her family and really haven’t seen them much in the past few years. I really ought to go. But the part that is hardest for me is (speaking culturally here), is that emotions are not allowed to be expressed on their property. To summarize, they are second generation stoic, Scandinavian, Lutherans. It is part of that culture to consider feelings as not becoming to good Christian people. Denise knows her parents love her but she says she has never heard them use the word, “love.”

I’m sure other emotionally charged words have never parted their lips. Words like hate, sad, depressed, frustrated, elated and I could go on. It’s not like they don’t have these emotions but they can not be expressed externally. I’m positive the word “sex” has never, ever been spoken on their farm by anybody but certainly a lot of it has happened there and not just within the Christian ideal.

In my search of church history I did seem to come to terms with my in-laws’’ cultural orientation better. It seemed like when the Vikings (who lived with a pure, raw, unadulterated expression of emotion) were finally tamed under a Christian king, the pendulum swung to the other extreme. It soon paralleled the Victorian English’s low esteem of feelings. I will define it (since this is the Christian Monist blog) in terms of Dualism Vs Monism. Simply the Victorians and Scandinavian stoics started considering emotions as a function of the flesh so to be spiritual you must rise above the animalistic expressions of feelings. It also made a good line of demarcation between them and the old Viking ways to show proof that they had repented. The Charismatics have gotten around this by showing pure unadulterated human emotion . . . but re-labeling it (as in a masquerade) as “spiritual” or a supernatural working of the Holy Spirit.

Okay, back to the situation at hand.

I have a couple of decades of memories of going to my in-law’s farm. It was usually a holiday so my wife’s three brothers, two sisters and their families would also be there in a state of chaos. Most of my memories were when our five kids were small. As soon as we got to the farm, Denise would disappear with her sisters, leaving me with the kids. The kids hated being at grandma’s and my job was like a swimming pool life guard. I watched them day and night trying to keep them for going off the deep end and imploding.

My mother-in-law is a stoic’s stoic. Once I got to know her brother (my wife’s uncle) I saw the pattern much more clearly. I’m not trying to be critical here as I do believe that we are all messed up in some ways, me more than most.

But my mother-in-law set her house up as a museum. The kids were not allowed to touch any of her figurines. They were supposed to sit on folding chairs, in nice clean clothes—hands folded on their laps—for days. They couldn’t go outside because it was either too cold (and it was) or too muddy. I remember once my son, Bryan, reached over and picked up a wooden puzzle (not realizing it was an antique) and took it apart. It was like if he had thrown a brick through their window in the way the family reacted . . . but carefully not showing any emotions.

When my sister-in-law, Sharon, combined her Lutheran stoicism with a new-found Christian fundamentalism, she became our out of control family’s worse nightmare.

It was during one of the Christmas trips that the event happened. Sharon had read far too many, “How to Raise the Perfect Christian Family” books. I was just on my way out of Evangelicalism . . . not having answers to everything anymore.

Denise came to bed late one night and I could tell she was upset but she could not tell me what the problem was. She didn’t want to tell me until we were off the farm because she was afraid I would show emotions . . . anger being the most evil one to express. Finally I was able to get her to spill the beans but with conditions set by her.

Apparently that day my son, Daniel (aka Caleb), age six, had mooned one of her kids (she had seven). To me it was kids being kids. To Sharon it was positive proof that Daniel was sexual pervert and possible demon possessed. In her views, if a child of six was a sexual pervert it only meant one thing . . . they too had been the victim of sexual perversion. Sharon was going to call the department of social service the next morning and report us. She was deeply (as a loving Christian relative with big smiles here) concerned about our family. Maybe a stranger had been abusing Daniel . . . or worse . . . his own father!

I think I can clearly say, it was the most angry I’ve ever been in my entire life. I’ve been in a couple of fist-fights but I had never been THIS ANGRY. My blood pressure must have climbed to a million over a hundred thousand. But I had to eat my emotions like a dirty shirt. Denise had me promise that if she told me, that I wouldn’t say anything or show any emotion at the breakfast table the next morning. I lay in the bed the entire night, in a cold, adrenalin tainted sweat, trying to stuff my emotions. It took every ounce of courage not to march into Sharon’s bedroom, yank down my p.j.s and MOON HER!


Usually the stain of marriage is the conflict in how the husband and wife were raised differently. The other dimension of conflict is probably the different in belief systems or just genetically-based differences of personality. I think this issue of how to express emotion has always been Denise’s and my most difficult part.

She has endured two bouts of my severe clinical depression. It is confusing to her, as to me. I try to practice good mental hygiene (and prayer) now as I never want to walk that path again. The best visual representation of depression, in my opinion, was in the Robin Williams’ movie, “What Dreams May Come.” Robin (can’t remember his screen name) traveled into hell to save his wife who had committed suicide.

Denise couldn’t save me and felt perplexed. I think she too has learned that just saying don’t show sadness is not the answer anymore and denying it is not good mental hygiene. There was a time during the midst of one of the depressive episodes that she made me go outside and lay the back seat of the truck because I had started to cry. She didn’t think it would be healthy for the kids to see their dad cry. I lay in the back of that Toyota, in Houghton, Michigan, with the snow pouring down . . . crying for hours—until my tear glands went dry. I felt like Robin William’s wife in the movie, when she was in fetal position in the bottom . . . actually top, of an upside down church, in the bowels of hell.

I am not one to try and put a positive spin on every thing (as if that is not apparent by now). I do realize that some extreme emotions are simply part of the human dilemma. I can remember in the depths of my last depression feeling that I was seeing the world in its most pure and honest form. I still wonder if that might be true. I t is sort of how King Solomon describes the world in Ecclesiastes. I knew that when friends at church were being so friendly it was because they saw us as an Amway target. They wanted to sell us stuff and really didn’t give a damn about us. But that too is part of the fall, the alienation of people from people.

I’m not a complete pessimist regarding the fall. There is still plenty of God’s glory in the background of every thing, even of course the non Christians (such as the Iranians). Like the astrophysicists, who talk about the background energy of the Big Bang being evident everywhere in the universe, the same is true about God’s glory. It is there . . . everywhere. I think that Solomon ended with the same conclusion. People do, sometimes, love one another with real love. There are rainbows . . . sometimes . . . and not just shit.

So, I’ve rambled without resolution but to say that I think emotions are part of being human. I will prepare myself to enter the world of the Invasion of the Body Snatchers on the Minnesota farm. In that story and movie, the only way the alien pod-reproductions could tell if you were a real human (and then kill you and reproduce your body) was if you showed emotions. The real human survivors learned to hide their emotions and then they could blend in perfectly with the pod people. I will try to blend in with the stoics.

I remember a patient of mine, who was also a writer and poet, wrote a poem about her depression. It was titled, The Ode to Prozac. The opening line was, “To feel or not to feel is the question.” On Prozac she did suffer depression . . . but she didn’t feel anything deeply.

Overall a Pretty Good Day

The photo is not the best . . . taken by my cell phone in a dimly lit restaurant. But it was the best way to capture a great ending to a pretty good day.

My daughter brought me breakfast in bed. Then I biked into town on a cool morning, but with some good sun breaks to greet me as I came down the mountain into our village.

My son and daughter later met me at the coffee shop after I had about an half hour alone to read a few chapters of A Farewell to Arms.

From there we went to my usual church. Denise and two of my other sons met us there. My sons don’t live with us anymore so it was unique to have four of our five kids on one pew in church at once. It happens, but about three times a year. I guess father’s day was such an occasion.

Church was eventful for a few things. One, a dear older friend of mine died suddenly this week. I gave his wife, Barbara, a big, long hug and I didn’t want to let go. She looked worn. I can’t imagine what it is like after sleeping in the same bed with someone for 50 years then suddenly they are gone forever (speaking of earthly terms). Barbara, the target of my hug, is one of a few people that understands me at this church. I don’t know what she did in her previous (preretirement) life but she is a smart lady. She had read all the Schaeffer stuff.

The second event was me handing L. (my paranoid schizophrenic friend) a little treasure. He is obsessed with Biblical themes and honestly is quite knowledgable. About three years ago I was telling him a story about me wading in the Sea of Galilee and stepping on some old pottery. I grabbed it and brought it home but lost it. He told me that he would love to have a souvenir like that.

I was cleaning out my shed yesterday, sorting boxes of screws and nails, and stumbled on that piece of pottery. I handed it to L. this morning and he gave me a big hug. Then he started talking about things that were so tangential that I could not follow him. His paranoia kicks in when he thinks you are not listening to him. So I tried very hard to pretend I was.

The pastor preached on several topics but one was about the rumors of the church failing. He showed several books that he had read recently, each predicting the demise of Evangelicalism (Imonk has spoken a lot about this recently). However our pastor took a twist on this that I’m not sure I had any better luck following than the conversation of my schizophrenic friend. Well it wasn’t that it was tangential, but it’s the reasoning that I don’t get.

Basically he figures that our young people are leaving the church in droves not because the church is doing anything wrong but because we are allowing grumbling in the church. This is the result of the lack of the hierarchy of covenant. I sense he is talking about guilt manipulation. In other words, telling our teens to keep their mouths shut and obey us . . . by going to church. I feel sad about that. If the church doesn’t respond in honesty, then there is not a lot of hope.

I cut out of church early to do something I had never done before. I went to our village square to protest. It wasn’t really a protest but a demonstration of support for the Iranian people. I happen to have this huge Iranian flag that I stole from an Iranian army outpost in the earthquake area of Pakistan. Actually the Iranians had abandoned their post and we took it over. I took their flag.

Today I was going to march and hold the flag high so people would remember to pray for those who seek their basic freedom. It seemed like the Christian thing to do. However, when I got to the town square, there was no protesting today. It is a tradition to have several protest groups there each Sunday. Each group has their own corner near the Safeway. I knew that I would NOT be welcomed with my Iranian flag on the Christian corner. Christians (at least the ones who protest there) hate Iranians, Muslims, Gays, Aborters and most of all, Democrats . . . and they make their voices very loud.

After church I had a rare chance to take a nap. Later I listened to my three sons jam on their guitars. After that I took a long kayak trip across Puget Sound, another stop in the coffee shop to work on a book and then . . . have my sons and daughter take me out to my favorite restaurant. That’s how we ended a pretty nice day.

I feel, I guess lucky is the best term. I could say blessed. But I had four of my five children with me. I am proud of all five. Things are well. There have been a few stormy times in our lives, when things were not well . . . but they are well now and I thank God for that. I know that there will be bad days in the future. I know it can’t be a good day for Barbara or her two (adult) children who are experiencing their first Father’s Day without their sweet dad. Yeah, for us, it was a pretty nice day.

The Culture of "Success"

This problem is not endemic to the Christian subculture, or even to the American one. Maybe it is a condition of humanity . . . where people are very uncom-fortable with “un-success” (not quite as strong of a word as "failure"). People equally feel insecure with the lack of resolution. Maybe this is why Donald Miller’s book, Blue Like Jazz seemed to strike a cord. He says that Jazz is a type of music that doesn’t resolve. His narrative about his Christian experience differed from most previous Christian books because it left the reader dangling . . . not knowing what the answers are . . . and actually not even being sure what the questions were.

If I’m making a point here it is that I think we Christians should be different. We should be more comfortable with unresolved problems, and failures (or “un-success”) than anyone. After all, it is one of our theological dogmas that this world is fallen and troubled. But I think that we feel most uncomfortable with “un-success” than most because we have mistaken the Bible as a self-help book for success in our personal lives, rather than a narrative about how the creator of the universe has redeemed us.

There’s always a stimulus of some sorts that provokes my thoughts. This time I think it was an event on Wednesday night.

A Christian youth ministry (whose board I sit on) was having their end of the school year bash (and evangelistic outreach) down on the waterfront. I would guess 500 teenagers were there, if not more. After the last band played, my wife and I stood on the gravelly beach with the sun setting over the San Juan Islands in a crimson tint. We were waiting on my son who had performed earlier.

Denise was in deep conversation with one of our good Christian friends. This friend and her husband are venturing into a new business endeavor. As I heard her tell the story, it was sprinkled with comments about God doing this, God said that, the Holy Spirit opening such and such doors. She is a very nice lady and I’m not being critical. This is normal Christian talk. But as my mind wandered away and across the calm waters of the sound my imagination ran a bit. I considered how this narrative might play out on the other side, if the business venture fails. She probably would never mention it. I won’t go into details except to say that in their situation a business failure is a very good possibility.

Then I started thinking about the fact that I can never remember sitting around with a group of Christians were someone told a personal story that ended without resolution or with a lack of success . . . and no one attempted to finish the narrative with a happy ending. First of all, it is rare that the primary speaker doesn’t put a happy ending on their own story. If they do leave it dangling, someone, certainly, will fill in the blanks of God doing this for such and such a reason or there is a rainbow in this pile of shit somewhere.

I don’t know why, but I don’t mind looking bad or being vulnerable. My old Navigator leader use to tell me, “Mike, when you talk like that you come across as being very unspiritual.” Toward the end of my five year training program he removed me from his inner circle because he felt like God was calling him to find “Sharp men and women . . . those with real leadership potential,” and I didn’t fit that mold.

I often tell stories where I’m the one screwing up or something bad happens. I wrote a whole book about my professional failures once (A Kernel in the Pod). I don’t do it for pity. I guess I do it for honesty’s sake and sometimes to laugh at myself. I know that when I leave a story dangling and just wait, people look embarrassed for me. Then someone fills in the gap (or tells me that I’m a real looser as if I didn’t know it). I’m glad that Jesus loves losers. I really think the Bible is actually the losers’ guide to knowing you are redeemed anyway.