The Fall Within - More About My Anxiety Story

My problem stayed at a mild level (after my neighbor Les and my bother Gary were out of the picture). But it was some events of middle school that brought them to the surface and helped to define them as social anxiety (rather than just general anxiety). In my middle school was when you were called to do your first public speaking and where sports took a paramount importance.

My first public speaking gig was a seventh grader when I was told to do a talk to a roomful of parents at a National Honor Society banquet. The speech had to be written and then memorized. Five of us were on the podium. I had been very nervous about it for days ahead, which may have been typical for a thirteen year-old. But when it was my time to speak, and I was second, I had a full-fledged panic attack. My voice was trembling so bad that I could only get out my first sentence (out of about ten) and then I froze up. It was one of the biggest nightmares of my life up until that point.

Social anxiety is self-perpetuating. You screw up because you are so scared. Then your fear becomes much worse because you have screwed up. It becomes a vicious downward spiral. The only feedback I got after the talk was having the teacher, who led the National Honor’s Society, comment that the other four did a great job and maybe I was the wrong choice for the job and, she told the group, that she would be much more careful next time when she picked speakers.

I knew nothing about anxiety disorders but had to assume that I had messed up because I was very stupid and a very bad person. The teacher didn’t advise me any differently.

My social anxiety became much worse after that event and during the subsequent years. The major reason was my experience with basketball. I think my motive for playing was trying to prove that I was “somebody” and thus over come these personal negative feelings. I became obsessed with the sport, practicing far longer than the team. However, I continued to be plagued with performance anxiety (a facet of social anxiety) to the point that—while I was doing very well in practices—I failed miserably during a game in front of a few hundred people. Just like with the Honor Society speech, each failure led to worsening social anxiety.

The Christian Era

I became a Christian at age 18 through a high school teacher who taught psychology. I took psychology to try and figure out what the hell was wrong with me. Then the teacher introduced a friend, Bill, and I to the Gospel, at least an evangelical version of the Gospel.

The part that was most attractive to me about Tom’s Gospel, was that once you accept Christ, all your problems go away and you enter a Nirvana of bliss right away. I was taught that Jesus came to not only take away the guilt of our sin, but the actual sin itself.

Bill and I entered (for the next four years) a program of discipleship training under Tom. The cornerstone of this series was the belief that the only thing that separated ourselves from perfection, bearing all the fruits of the spirit (and we considered “peace” or the complete lack of anxiety as one of those fruits) was our obedience. So, I wanted so much to know this peace . . . and more than that, I wanted everyone to see me as a mature Christian . . . that I had to do my best to push my anxiety underground.

I took up repelling and rock climbing during college and graduate school to prove to others I had no fear of heights (but was scared shitless each time I did it). I did travel back and climb the ole Hatteras light house. There is something positive to be said for “exposure” to the target of fear. It is therapeutic and does help, so those exposures (although it was part of my pretending) did help the underlying problem a bit.

I can only remember two public speaking events during my undergraduate years. One was a well advertised debate between a group of us Christians and a strongly atheistic philosophy professor. I honestly think I had much more to say (having at least studied philosophy) than the rest of the group. However, I was terrified for the week leading up to the meeting. My Christian friends told me a bunch of clichés, such as, “If you had your eyes on Jesus rather than yourself, then it wouldn’t be a problem.” One gal suggested that I did not have the Holy Spirit because if I really did, I would be bold and courageous rather than acting like a coward. I felt like a coward and knew how much God must be ashamed of me for being anxious, especially when other people were not. I fasted and prayed for hours and hours over that meeting and slept very little.

The second one came while I was attending a Navigator summer training program at the University of Tennessee. It was a three month intensive training in the Christian life (with about 100 other students). I was asked to lead music (and I know nothing about music) at a large gathering for about 500 people. I was terrified. I heard over an over from my team leader and others that my fear was a mark of spiritual immaturity. I hated myself. All I did was pray, fast and beg God to help me to be mature. I led the music but it was extremely hard.

In summary, the next couple of decades my social anxiety was in the back ground. It was only mild to moderate, but even then, it did influence my life a lot. We had a failed missionary experience in part due to it. We had a boss who treated my family like donkey crap (he had his own disturbing issues). I should have stood up to him the very first time that he asked us to do something outrageous. However, due to the facts that I had been taught that going against a spiritual leader was the same as going against God Himself, and the fact that I had a fear of confrontation (typical of social anxiety) let us stay on the field in extreme hardship for two years before I had the balls to explode and confront this man (after his decisions had almost cause my son to die).

To avoid belaboring this too long, I will jump ahead another decade. My anxiety disorder continued to haunt me (making me feel like crap as a man and a Christian) but it was relatively mild. This all changed about 15 years ago. It was a chain of horrible events that occurred over three years. It is too complicated to go into here. In summary, the first events were completely out of my control . . . just a lot of bad luck. In the end, in my anger and frustration, I made bad choices. After this, it was like I was standing at the foot of the Hoover Damn and the entire thing collapsed releasing a vast torrent of guilt and shame on the top of my head. My anxiety had been building for a couple of years, but then, it became acute and serious. I began having panic attacks one after another. At the zenith I had to stay home from work because I was having constant panic attacks if I left my house.

This is getting long so I will pick up on this story in my next posting. I will talk more about what it is like to experience a more serious form of anxiety disorder. Mistakes I made in seeking treatment, and things I’ve learned. I will warn that this is not like a Mother Goose or typical Christian fiction story where everything becomes hunky dory in the end. My problem is still not resolved and may never be this side of eternity. I will end with a post discussing the whole nature of these problems and how, I think, Christians should approach them, and errors that I know that I've made in my thinking.

General Anxiety Disorder -- My Experience

(Pictured . . . inside the Hatteras lighthouse)


I'm going to spend a couple of postings (I hope it is not any longer) describing my experience with a generalized anxiety disorder. I still invite others who what to discuss their mental health thorns in the flesh. Just write it up and submit it to me a christianmonist@comcast.net

I wanted to continue this thought on looking at my anxiety from the inside out with special consideration of a (my) Christian perspective.

First of all, I am a great believer that we are all unique . . . I’m thinking snowflake here. Not only has God created us unique to start with, but the influence of the fall, through our genetic make up and live experiences has added to that uniqueness. So what I say about my experience only applies to myself and not to others with the same diagnoses. The old Tim Lahaye, Spirit-Controlled Temperament, dose not fly in my opinion. It was one of the “Christian” milestone books (back in the 70s) on psychology, which put people in boxes, categories or personality types. While modern psychology does catalog mental illness (as I referred to earlier as the DSM-IV), and I think that is helpful, we can not paint people with too broad of brush.

What is the cause of Generalized Anxiety Disorder (GAD)?

First I will give a basic answer (which may apply to everyone), then my own personal answer.

I do believe that GAD, is a “disorder.” It is not part of the great “order” in which God created the universe or intended. It is an aberration of how God intended us to be. That view makes a great impact on how we, who suffer, view our problem. God didn’t create me this way for some special reason. It is, like Paul said, a thorn in the flesh. No human, in my opinion is without their own personal thorn. Of course God is sovereign, however, He is not the great manipulator . . . creating us with certain idiosyncrasies which makes our lives much more difficult . . . in order to achieve some specific divine purpose.

This particular disorder, like most, can be a product of, 1) ancient sin (the fall of Adam) and influence us through genetics, 2) recent sin, the influence on us of other peoples’ sin, especially when we were very young or 3) our personal sin. This is very, very different from Nouthic counseling (Jay Adams brand of Christian psychology) which only believes in # 3. Nouthic counseling also ignores the physical brain which is the real “battle ground” in the case of # 1 and can be influenced by # 2 and #3. They believe (in a Dualistic way) that the problem is in a very fluid, dynamic and changeable spiritual realm. Go back to my previous posting and click on the title for a very good, and simple, explanation of how the brain is involved in this disorder of GAD.

So anxiety disorders can develop if you are born with brain malfunctions, such as deficient of a particular neurotransmitter, or the actual number or connections between certain neurons. You can also acquire an anxiety disorder through early childhood experiences, trauma (anytime during your life) or even brain injuries. I’ve seen patients develop extreme anxiety after a particular type of brain injury including a stroke.

Of course, decisions that we make can influence the magnitude of these disorders. But I believe that the Church has created a huge amount of unjustified guilt by suggesting that all the mental health disorders are the fault of the sufferer. It would be the same if a person was blamed over and over for being born (or injured) and became lame, or blind.

My personal origins.

I have done a lot of retrospection and I don’t have all the answers, however, there is no reason for me to waste anymore of my time and energy trying to figure it out. You can certainly become too obsessed with your own faults.

I know that my GAD started at a very young age. Was I born with it? Maybe, but I’m not positive. My mother suffered from a severe anxiety disorder all her life. The question becomes, did I inherit the disorder from her or did she teach it to me when I was very young? I honestly don’t know.

I can remember as clear as if it were yesterday, the first time I realized that I was different. I was five years old. I was with a large extended family group visiting the lighthouse on Cape Hatteras. The group (of about 14) started climbing the spiral iron staircase inside. It is the kind where you can see through the steps to the floor below. As we went up beyond 20 or 30 feet I was overcome by terror (acrophobia is one small part of my syndrome). It was so bad that I froze. My mother couldn’t even carry me because I was in a panic. The whole family made a big deal out silly I was and how much of a baby I was. Finally my mother took me back ground to the door and I sat outside on the big sandstone steps that lead up to the lighthouse while she and the others climbed it. I felt so embarrassed and I hated myself. My brother had laughed his head off at me, but the terror was so awful. The only reason that I felt terror, so I reasoned, was because I was a very bad person.

I had some early influences in my life that . . . if didn’t cause my anxiety . . . made it much worse. But I am often hesitant to even tell these stories because when I’ve attempted to before, I’ve had Christian friends suggest I was, “making excuses.” I am not. I’m just trying to objectively explore and understand. Those who accuse us of “making excuses” are usually people who have never suffered with this problem. Their thorns in the flesh may be that they are assholes . . . but then that makes them a thorn in someone else’s flesh doesn’t it?

The other influence was that I had a brother who beat the crap out of me almost every day. He hated me. I was seven years younger than him and he was always insecure, which made him very jealous (with me being the baby). He dealt with it by constantly telling me I was crap and physically hurting me with every chance that he could. It created a constant feeling of low-self esteem and fear.

The other great influence was a neighbor kid. He was the stereotypical bully. He was four years older than me and heavy, weighting twice as much as me. He loved to torture me, and I’m not exaggerating. From about age 3 until I stabbed him in a horrible act if self preservation (around age 6) there wasn’t a day that went by that he was tying ropes around my neck coking me, burning me with matches, setting my hair on fire, forcing me to do kiss and expose myself (in great humiliation) to little girls on our street. It seemed like it would never end.
Finally my brother got drafted to Vietnam and I stabbed my neighbor in the head, sending him to the Emergency Room. But after living through this for about five years (and impressible years) I was a nervous wreck.

My parents didn’t help me because (I know now), 1) my dad was suffering from PTSD from Normandy and 2) my mother had been so severally abused as a child by her father and step-mother that she didn’t have the emotional fortitude left to help me.

So I really don’t know when my problems started and if I would have had them even if I had experienced a warm and nurturing childhood. It may have been all the results of nature.

I will continue on with my story later, how it manifest and how I’ve struggled to over-come it (but mostly hide it).

Made Fearfully . . . The Gift of Terror

I will be back soon to start taking about this . . . a very personal issue. I am overwhelmed with work right now, finishing up my masters today, trying to get a medical license in Nepal (got a notice last night that I had to get a huge amount of paper work to Kathmandu by tomorrow). Plus, I'm going out of town next week for ten days and my schedule at work is packed.

The beginning thought is simply fear is a gift. Without fear, our life expectancy would indeed be very short. If you want to see an illustration of too-little fear, watch some of the Darwin Award winners (on video). I really think that Adam and Eve had the gift before the Fall. However, if there were no real dangers, then maybe they didn't. They should have had more fear . . . at least a fear of God.

But, as a back ground, click on the title above and there is a very good, and simple explanation of how God has given us this gift.

I personally suffer from a generalized anxiety disorder with a focus on social anxiety. As I was thinking about how to approach this topic, regarding my personal experiences, I thought for awhile of looking how the Church has misunderstood it. I still may do that. But in reality, I have not had any particular bad experiences regarding my anxiety and interaction with Christians. The main reason might be that it is my personal dirty little secret. I do not feel like I have the freedom to bring it up for several reasons. I admit that those reasons may not be founded in truth. But I have to put on a constant act to disguise my fears.

One reason I feel that I must hide it, is that I as a man am deeply ashamed that I suffer from this. Men are suppose to be strong, fearless and confident. I work very hard to hide my inner fear and most would never know it.

Secondly, as a Christian, I feel even more ashamed. Again, I've never had a horrible experience with Christians, but I don't think they would understand. The reason is the fear has always been considered (at least around my neck of the Christian woods) as the opposite of faith or "trusting God." I think that most would think that anxiety and "worry"are the same thing. But I think they are very different. The kind of anxiety that I experience is very automatic and what you would call subconscious. It is not like I sit around and worry about things. Actually, I think I worry about things far less than most people (like terrorism, swine flu, Y-2-K, accidents and etc.) But, with that said, the physical feelings of anxiety is constant and haunting.

I will stop here and come back. I want to describe my history of anxiety from the inside out.

A Possibly, More Biblical Perspective on Mental Illness

The term “Biblical view” is tossed around loosely these days and I am often appalled at nonsensical concepts as “the Biblical view of global warming” or “the Biblical view of the Internet.” I will allude here, and come back later to, a previous movement called the “Biblical Counseling Movement” or known by other names as “Christian Psychology.” At one point in my life I had the ambitions of being a “Christian Psychologist” and I totally believed in those movements, swallowing them line, hook and sinker. There are no such things as "5 easy Biblical steps" to anything that resembles success or cures.

But I do want to express some fundamental Christian teachings that I think influences my perspective. These fundamentals are very basic, and beyond them, the Bible is silent and gives us freedom to learn and be creative.

The first simple concept is that God is there and He is the creator. He made the universe out of nothing, and made it wonderfully (as opposed to the Dualistic notion that the physical realm is not important or inferior). He has made us in His image. Even though His design of us human creatures may have been perfect, the Christian teaching has the concept of the Fall, or aberration of what was intended. Why this aberration occurred, we can only speculate, but it is key to basic Christian teachings.

Next, is the notion that in Christ, we are COMPLETELY restored both in our intrinsic value and in our connection to God. The law was never intended to restore or to help us maintain value in the eyes of God or others. Living according to the fundamentals of the law does help us have a better quality of life (not as w reward, as in the Prosperity Gospel view) but as an instruction manual for quality living.

Enter Mental Illness:

My fist point here is that none of us are sane . . . completely . . . because of the effects of the fall. Some are saner than others and some are more sane at one point in their lives, or on a particular day, than other days.

The Fall creates mental illness in several ways. First is what we call “nature” or genetics. The brain is an organ of not only intellect, but emotions. Defects can be severe, as in cerebral palsy, or it can on a cellular basis, leading to thought disorders. This baggage comes at birth and the bearer has no responsibility as far the cause (although they might have a role in the treatment).

The second factor is of course “nurture.” This is simply life experiences and is made up of what others have done to us and decisions we have made.

Now there is no formula for determining how much of a factor nature or nurture shares. It depends on the illness and the person. However, there are some mental illnesses of course that are far more the fruits of nature and others more of nurture. But the exact balance can vary from person to person and from situation to situation.

One example of an illness that is more determined by nature is schizophrenia or other psychosises. However, even more minor mental illnesses can have a significant genetic influence in how the brain is wired. An example of one that is more related to nurture is post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD).

With those things said, we do have influence over our mental illnesses, at least most of the time, but our control is not near as easy as Evangelicalism has assumed. Here is where, in my humble opinion, that Evangelicalism has failed in its ability to address mental health issues.

Because of the Dualistic influence upon the Church (historically, and in my opinion in great error) Christianity has had the tendency to divide humans among physical and spiritual lines. The body, digestion, breathing, walking and etc., are easily assigned to the physical. However, attitudes, thoughts, feelings and behavior are assigned completely to the soul or the spiritual.

The problem in believing that these “invisible” attributes are all spiritual, is that it means they are fluid, dynamic and can change on a dime. If you combine this with verses like, II Cor 5:17 “Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation; the old has gone, the new has come!” (btw, taken out of context) you come up with a belief system that all of these invisibles are controlled by moral choice.

If our thoughts, feelings, attitudes, fears and behavior are simply controlled by our moral choice, then, one would assume that if you have obvious mental illness it is sin because you have chosen to think badly.

Evangelicals love this paradigm, especially if their mental health issues are easy to hide. The reason is, they can look as someone suffering from, say depression (and they don’t have depression), and feel better about themselves. They like to think that they don’t have depression because they have more faith, pray more and etc. On the other hand, the one who does have the problem starts to feel more and more guilt because they too start to believe that their mental illness is simply a result of their bad choices.

One of the biggest movements in Evangelical psychology was Nouthetic Counseling. Basically the word Nouthetic means a type of confrontation. You confront the mentally ill person and get them to repent (or cast out the demon) and presto, they get better. In my personal opinion, and I was a great advocate for this movement for a couple of decades, is that it is pure bullshit. It has done a lot of damage to people whom god loves and gave his son for.

But in reality, mental health issues are based in the organic, concrete, brain. Even if the mental illness, such as PTSD, is a function of nurture . . . it becomes nature because the physical brain actually changes under the influence of extreme stress. I won’t go into that here.

So a better paradigm is realizing that these so-called invisible or spiritual attributes are founded in the physical (the incredible brain which God has made) then the approach has to be different. It is different because some disorders, just like a congenital heart defect or lameness won’t magically go away with a simple cure. So, baring a supernatural miracle, on the order of raising a stone-cold, decaying body from the dead, a schizophrenic will never be cured.

But mental illness can get better and can, in most situations, be controlled. But it is more like redirecting a glacier than fanning steam. It is hard work. It takes a huge amount of energy and support and yes . . . often it requires medications.

The “steppers,” like Bill Gothard, are also a disservice to those who suffer from real mental illness. He has 5 steps to perfect everything. So, in his opinion, if you jump through hoops x, y and z your depression will be gone. So, in real life, when your depression does not get better then you have a choice of looking like a failure, or push your mental illness underground.

So in summary, while mental illness is a product of the fall, there is a very good chance that it has nothing to do with its victims’ moral choices. No one hates their mental illness more than those who suffer from them. There is not an infinite amount of disciplines that they would not do, steps that they would not take, to rid themselves of the disorder once and for all.

Lastly, it is my opinion that mental disorders affect perception most, rather than logic. While I do think our sense of reason is also fallen (but still pretty good) mentally ill people reason, reasonably well, but it is their perceptions that are screwed up.

Take the example of an anorexic. He or she looks like they are very illogical. But their logic is mostly intact but it is there self-perception that is screwed up, especially in the area of body image.

More later.

Echos of the Fall . . . Within

I am following Jamie's lead, who asked me to talk about my battles with a general anxiety disorder and especially dealing with these issues in the midst of the Christian context. I've decided that it would be nice if others would join me in sharing their own stories. But this should be more than just a few comments. I hope someone else could write up a whole story, send it to me, and let me post it here later. Think about it as I spend the next few postings exploring my own experience. E-mail it to me at: christianmonist@comcast.net

I will come back in a day or so and pick up on this theme. I will add a few caveats again. This includes the fact that I see myself as an explorer and reporter, not any kind of expert. Having a undergraduate degree in psychology and graduate degree in neurology influences my perspective but a mental health professional certainly knows a lot more than I do. But I am only going to be talking about my experiences and perspectives from the inside out.

A few months ago I spent several posts talking about those mental illnesses that others have (and can be "underground" like personality disorders) and which can be a thorn in our sides at times. But this time I will turn the magnifying glass on myself and look how my issues can be a thorn in my own flesh as well as others. I also want to put it into a proper Christian perspective because I think, historically, Dualistic Christianity has done a terrible job in how it handles mental illnesses. It leave the sufferer in the terrible position of ether denying their problems, or living with tremendous guilt.

Above of course is Vincent. He started his life as a Dutch Reformed Pastor's son with ambitions of being a Evangelist himself. But he had his private demons. He eventually left his Christian ambitions, became a wonderful artist . . . and struggled with his demons. This of course is one of his self-portraits with the bandaged ear . . . an ear, which he cut off himself. I have a feeling that he had no place to go, but away from the Church because the Church didn't know how to deal with mental illness.

The Common Denominator of My Obnoxiousness Factor

I had a bit of a revelation this week, but before I can describe it, I must give some background.

I think the first time that I realized that I was obnoxious (at least to my Christian friends) was several years ago. I considered Pastor Steve as being my best friend at the time. He was nice. We had had many long conversations of substance . . . talking about both his issues as well as mine, with an equal time devoted to each.

One day, Denise and I had told his wife Janelle that we were coming by for a visit at 2 PM. At that time, our visits were rare and so much valued, at least to me. It is long story, but we got to their area of the city early . . . I think it was around 1:40PM. The odd thing was I saw Steve suddenly sneak from the house, jump in the car a take off. Being a pastor of large Presbyterian Church I could just imagine a host of reasons why he would have to take off in a hurry. But then again, I thought it could be something simple, like running to the store to get some soda or chips for our visit.

Janelle was always gracious and pleasant. We came in and had a seat and started a lively conversation over some lemonade. It wasn’t long until I asked, “So where’s Steve off to? I saw him pulling out as we came down the street.”

Janelle seemed embarrassed, “Well, he went shopping and won’t be back.”

I was perplexed. I hadn’t seen him in a month and I had considered that we were best friends. “Shopping?” I asked.

Janelle hemmed and hawed and finally in a moment of brave candor (assuming that she wasn’t too happy with Steve’s behavior) answered, “Well . . . honestly, he saw that it was about time for you to get here and he had to think quickly of something he could do to avoid you.”

How do you respond to something like that? I was tempted to ask why but I could tell that Janelle already felt embarrassed about the situation.

I was hurt, but far more than being hurt, I was curious. I am a very inquisitive man. I mean, my approach to life is that I feel like Frodo with a head full of about a ton of question marks. When I ask questions, they are real, honest questions . . . not opinions disguised as questions, nor are they rhetorical.

So, after my experience with Steve (and btw our paths have never crossed since, by no fault of mine) I started to notice a pattern. I’ve shared before that I think that I desire good friendships more than most people, at least more than most men, yet I am lonelier than most. Since I’ve been a post-Evangelical, I find friendships very rare and I do think that the Christians, which I try to relate to, find me obnoxious.

But I try very hard not to be obnoxious. I find the old Evangelical Mike far more obnoxious than the new me. The old Mike knew the answers to everything and was not afraid to tell you. He also wasn’t afraid to tell you about your errors. The new Mike would never do that. I have a strong sense of grace and mercy. I feel that I would make a great friend because you could tell me anything and I would never think less of you. In that way I’m like your dog.

The only time I ever voiced disapproval to a friend was when he told me that he were unrepentantly molesting his children and having affairs behind his wife’s back and would not stop. But I had a Christian leader confine in me once that he was an alcoholic, and I had more respect for him than ever and made sure he knew it. He was my hero for coming clean about it.

I also try very hard not to talk about myself . . . and maybe that’s why I blog so much. But in my professional life, I spend the entire day talking to people about the intimate details of their problems, incest (as victims and perpetrators), depression, anxiety, suicide attempts and anorexia. I have several, actually many, young girls who are patients and who are cutters. I know how to sit and listen with my whole heart and feel great empathy and I never talk about myself to them. I am a listening robot.

I know that a blog, as I’ve said before, can be a narcissistic exercise, but I would never focus on myself, one on one, with potential friends the way I do here. So it seems like I would make a good friend.

And again, the reason I even wonder about all of this is that I am driven by curiosity.

During my friend-making attempts I also can be inquisitive, and maybe that could be one obnoxious factor. I mean most of the time, we all like for people to ask us about ourselves. But sometimes my questions are misunderstood as judgments. But, I am a far greater admirer of Socrates than Rush Limbaugh. I am not one that would want to argue over opinions. I feel like such arguing is a futile exercise in self promotion, not persuasion.

Here’s an example of my questions. I’ve said things, to potential male friends, like, “Does it bother you that your wife spends four evenings a week with her personal trainer . . . who, by the way looks just like Brad Pitt? I know it would me?”

The man might take offense at me for that, while it is an honest question . . . in the same way that a sociologist or psychologist might ask it. I am honestly curious about if something is wrong with ME that I would be bothered by my wife hanging out every evening with Brad.

I am also driven by a great zeal for candor. I just can’t stand lying and pretending anymore. That’s where I relate to the insane guy on Revolutionary Road. He couldn’t stand pretentiousness either. But I don’t call other people on their pretentiousness . . . only myself.

So now . . . to my point. I am with a group of Evangelical friends once every two weeks right now for a discussion time. A sociological light bulb went off over my head this past week as I noticed that I was being perceived more and more obnoxious as the discussions went on. I, as an observer, took a step back and started thinking about what it was I was doing that was alienating people. I think I figured it out, at least for the Evangelical setting.

There were several discussions during the night and the end of each one would find me on one side and the rest of the group on the other. There was a common denominator to the discussions and my positions. In my opinion, Evangelicals assign to non-Christians worst motives than they deserve and to Christians, better motives than what they deserve.

So to my Evangelical friends, everything that non Christians do is a conspiracy to do evil, and every thing that Christians do is a plan to do good. I kept finding myself defending non Christians, and calling into question Christians. But, it wasn’t personal. I mean I would never call into question the people in the group. But I would people like Benny Hinn. I also try to use myself as the example of Christians acting badly . . .which always delivers come kind of shock factor.

This is how the conversation ended last week. We were talking about common miracles. I made the statement that sometimes Christians over-state miracles for the effect. There was a look of disgust on the faces of a few, like what I was suggesting was very offensive. Then I used myself as the example. I can clearly remember times (I didn’t say this but it was when I was an Evangelical) that I exaggerated or frankly lied about things to make them look like miracles. I gave the example of a group of us (Navigators) telling the story over and over how the VW van we were in ran 50 miles with no gas in it. But we all knew, in our hearts, that the gas gage didn’t work and it really had gas.

That is the common denominator . . . me always defending the non Christians. That night I had defended several non-Christians, which (in my opinion)they were trying to demonize. But I was disrespecting Christians, namely myself by suggesting that sometimes we lie. They seemed appalled that I had lied for Jesus. They had never heard of such a thing, a Christian doing something like that before. Nor could they even imagine a real Christian doing such bad things.

Revolutionaly Road . . . Excellent!

Just watched it. I really thought it was wonderful. It makes me miss the days when I lived in Rochester, MN and the LAbri house would have movie night. A group of about 30 would watch a carefully selected movie (not selected on being "G" or with "good Christian themes") but with deeply provocative thoughts. Then we would sit around and discuss it until the wee hours of the morning.

In view of how I've expressed things before, oddly, John Givings (the insane man) was the only sane person in the entire movie. He could see through the clutter into the eyes of reality. He was on the "other side" of the looking glass . . . while all the zombies in middle-class-responsible land were just that . . . living on the clean side.

The movie reminds me of a talk I heard once on Focus on the Family. I don't think it was James Dobson . . . but a guest. He made the comment that Christianity had a golden age in America, was was the 50s. Then he explained that through selfishness, the hippies of the 60s brought down the good American Christian society into the chaos of the post-Christian world that we experience now.

I of course disagree. I think there is truth in this movie (and the author of the book lived through 50s as an adult). I suspect the Leave-it-to-Beaver or The Adventures of Ozzie and Harriet generation lived on the edge of a facade and in their closets were some real pain, discontentment, disillusions about life. The hippies of the 60s were only saying, "Stop Pretending!" After all, Frank Wheeler (the main male character) was really happy at the end, when his wife, an actress by training, plastered this fake smile on her face and made his breakfast . . . while on the inside she was dying emotionally . . . and would die literally before the day was over.


This movie raises some real questions. Do we ever give up dreams for the "responsible thing to do? " Is living up to middle class expectations . . . a Christian cult?

I know I've made some radical choices in life (and many more that I wanted to make and couldn't). Each time I came up with a wild dream like leaving a wonderful job at Mayo Clinic( but living in a place that I and my kids hated), and moving to an island in Puget Sound . . . and trying to create a job from scratch, well . . . my Christian friends (and professional friends) all advised against it. They said it would not be "responsible."

I wish I had read the Richard Yates novel first. I'm sure it was even better than the book.