Dave | unobtrusive lucidity

The Forest, or the Trees?

There’s a sort of patriotism that floats around modern churches…a loyalty that’s born of a sense of aligning oneself with an institution, of belonging to something greater than yourself. That sort of institutional loyalty brings with it a “we’re right about this and you’re wrong because you go about it the wrong way” mentality. Like one person has God’s ear and the others are recipients of His dirty looks because they’re pursuing their methodology incorrectly.

I really hate that.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m not advocating that post-modern relativity reign in our communities of faith. There is a right and a wrong, and there are right ways and wrong ways to do things. I just think that the definitions are a lot broader than we think they are. Preferences are taught at the level of Scriptural mandate all over the country, becoming tradition. Generations of people exist in those traditions, never bothering to check them against Scripture to see what might actually be accurate and what may not be. Like we’re not permitted critical thinking as Believers.

I really, really hate that.

I grew up in an independent church that was still denominationally affiliated. I learned as a child that we were right and the other churches around us were wrong, were incorrect in the way they pursued God. Upon entering seminary, I stayed within that denomination, but moved into a church affiliated with a major conference within that denomination. I recognize that this was part of the journey I had to take (although I kick myself for taking so long to act upon what I knew even then to be true). When I resigned my position at that church and left that denomination, knowing that I had lost sight of God and was desperate to re-focus on Him, I was ostracized. I was looked upon with a pity that I had somehow fallen away, that because I had moved away from that tradition and system of preferences I somehow wasn’t a Believer any longer. At one point, someone actually walked by me without even speaking, without acknowledging that I was there. Conversation with friends from that part of my life even now are often strained when they occur, as though they really shouldn’t be talking to me. As though I’m a heretic, misled, and misleading.

I really, really, really hate that.

I hate it because it hurts, and that seems to be what most of American Christianity is good at. Hurting. This is the danger I see in institutional loyalties, a “my church is right and yours is wrong” mindset among Christian churches. This is the danger I see in denominations. I see no denominations in Scripture. I can’t conclude that God likes them, because they teach us to hate and distrust one another in very subtle ways. I think that Christ-followers are all members of communities of faith, not churches, because all Christ-followers around the world are members of the same Church, and therefore called away from loyalties to institutions. As part of the same Church, we manifest different communities to exercise different preferences, but most importantly to serve different needs in different locations. I think that, if we woke up and realized that, that we would join forces more readily, and accomplish such enormous work for Him…impact so many lives. Each community of faith has something they do very well, something God has gifted them in. No community of faith does everything well. Why can’t we offer assistance in our strengths and accept it in our weaknesses? Why do have to constantly walk around with this suspicion that God looks down on the people around the block because they’re too loud, or too liturgical? Why are we so busy bickering and causing discord among ourselves that we fail to see the effectiveness we could have in fulfilling the commission of the Church if we would just hold hands, accept each other (as Scripture tells us to do) as brothers and sisters, and agree to disagree on minor things? Why are so divided when we have so much reason to be united? Why do we see our precious institutions as bigger than God?

Far be it from me to presume, but I think God really, really, really hates that, too.

Dangerous Labels

Everything has to have a label.

I’ve worked in behavioral health for a little less than nine years now. I’ve always been fascinated by the human mind: what it’s capable of, and especially what it’s capable of when it breaks. Anyone who’s taken a college psychology course has had some exposure to the fact that there’s a label for everything that can go wrong with the human mind; a diagnosis for everything from psychosis (hallucinations and delusions) to oppositional behavior in a child.

I’m concerned over the trend of labels, and diagnoses are but one manifestation of this epidemic. My concern is partially the fact that it enables the individual carrying the diagnosis (“I can’t help misbehaving in class, Ms. Jones, because I’m ADHD.”). A second concern, though along the same thought process, is the victim mentality that this produces in the individual carrying the diagnosis (“I’m a product of my environment! I have an Adjustment Disorder!”) And, of course, the complete lack of coping skills that the label can help create in the individual carrying the diagnosis (“I can’t handle this situation right now…I forgot to take my medication this morning.”).

The second of these concerns, that of the victim mentality, was raised in John Seabrook’s recent article in The New Yorker about current research into the field of psychopathy, those who would be known to most of us as a “psychopath.” This condition goes by many names these days. “Psychopath” and “sociopath” are virtually interchangeable (they are essentially different manifestations of cultural trends in labeling), or “antisocial personality disorder” is the DSM-IV TR. The current research of which Seabrook reports involves brain scans of prison inmates. The connection is that psychopathy is a condition, a diagnosis, something that should be treated. The problem with this view is that, much like the common cold, criminal behavior is seen as something that cannot be held against the individual in question. Ultimately, it’s not their fault. After all, our culture (and it’s not alone in the world) thrives on fleeing from responsibility. If there’s a way to make the crime that John Doe just committed not his fault, then lets jump on that. Such a shame for anyone to have to take responsibility, right?

Ironically, the possible good that can come from this may be a recognition of our own brokenness. As Seabrook points out at the end of his article, accepting psychopathy as a disorder makes the concept that “many people have at least a little psychopath in them” commonly accepted, as well. Seabrook seems to be unwittingly pointing to the theological concept of original sin.

The push in the psychological field to make every sinful behavior into a “mental disorder” leads us away from what is known in the same field as “ownership of behaviors,” or taking responsibility for what you do. The discipline contradicts itself here, and thereby leaves the public in a state of contradiction as well. Unfortunately, that contradiction leaves us less capable, in many spheres, of dealing with ourselves, our actions, or with God.

And in the future, I’m sure, there will be a diagnosis for that, as well.

Not Giving the Time of Day

Last night, I realized, as I do every year, that it wasn’t really 12:30 this morning, but still effectively 11:30 last night. In that moment, as I do every year, I considered Daylight Saving Time (or, technically, the end of it) a beautiful thing.

This morning, I awoke entirely too early. Sleeping late is still one of the finer pleasures in life for me, and I only get to partake of this pleasure on weekends as a rule. So, being suddenly wide awake at 6:30 this morning as the sun illuminated the bedroom in horizontal, staccato slats through the venetian blinds, was an unduly harsh reality for me. I was up and productive by 7:00. I was out and about by 9:00. This is uncalled for on a Sunday morning. I’m usually a few minutes late for an 11:15 worship service. What had happened? What horrid metamorphosis had occurred???

Of course, I enjoyed the extra time as the day progressed, and I realized that perhaps now that the sun is up at the time of our alarm clock, I might actually begin to regain some sense of punctuality through the work week. This seemed like a good enough thing. But, as happens every year, the pleasure wore off when it was dark outside by 5:30.

Anyone who has visited here for more than a few months realizes that I really, really, really hate winter. Bleak skies and early dusk are unduly oppressive to me, and I can’t think of many things I hate worse than being cold (defined as anytime I have to wear long sleeves). All in all, I just don’t do well when I’m deprived of sunlight, and, while I know the logic is that we’ll have the sunlight on the other end of the day now, realistically there just isn’t as much light between now and February, regardless of how you do the math.

I’ll be screwed up for days.

I understand that Daylight Saving Time is there to assist the agricultural areas of our country, and to save energy and reduce traffic accidents, etc. etc. Franklin had a great idea, and a grand social experiment it was. Applause, applause. At the end of the day, though (whenever that actually occurs now…I won’t be sure for a week or two), I don’t think the government has any business meddling in time. They didn’t invent it, they have minimal control over it, and we’re already slaves to the clock anyway. Attempting to control time is above their ridiculous pay grade. Why can’t they just go away and leave us alone?

I think all of us should follow the example of Hawaii, the Virgin Islands, even some counties in Indiana (I think), and stop observing any time change altogether. As I understand it, energy savings and other benefits are minimal, and surely the consistency would be better for everyone all the way around.

That being said, I’m going to go try to figure what I should be doing for the next couple of hours while my body is screaming to me that its bedtime as of an hour or more ago. Oh, the joys of tinkering with the clock of life.

Quality, Not Censorship

Its no secret that I was a comic book fanatic when I was a kid. Had I a bit more time on my hands now, I likely would be still. I was primarily a Marvel Comics collector: X-Men, more than any of the rest. DC characters seems a bit too…traditional….to me at the time. DC Comics, however, pioneered the first superheroes. Superman, Batman, Wonder Woman…all were borne from the DC Universe. The only one of these that I ever gravitated toward, however, was Batman.

I think the reason that I liked Batman so much at the time was the same reason I like James Bond so much: I’ve always been a sucker for cool technology, and both of these characters had plenty of that to go around. The current incarnation of Batman movies have returned the Dark Knight to his appropriately dark and menacing persona, nearly an anti-hero, and appeal to me a great deal. What occurs to me, though, is that I grew up with a post-television-series Batman, with memories of “pow!” and “bam!” and campy music still in the air, and so even Tim Burton’s Batman films were refreshingly dark for me.

I watched the anime Batman: Gotham Knight last night, and it launched me into this research. Is it that we’ve made the characters darker in modern incarnations, or just that we’ve stopped running in fear from good storytelling and returned to the original character concepts?

Actually, the latter is occurring (even the current James Bond is much closer to Ian Fleming’s original character than have been any previous film versions). You see, when I grew up snatching new issues of Marvel comics from the shelves on weekends, I was reading material approved by the Comics Code Authority (CCA). I remember very well the seal appearing prominently in the upper left corner. What I didn’t realize, however, was how much the CCA actually censored in the publications bearing their seal.

It turns out that a psychiatrist named Fredric Wertham was to thank for this, as he was possibly the first to lead to the cultural panic that life imitates art. In his rush to assume that children’s minds could not stand to see life portrayed vividly with all of the junk accompanying it, he launched into a personal war against media in general, and comic books in specific, to prevent them from printing violence, gore, and any number of other story elements.

Except that all of these things are just that: story elements. Are we to say that, because many writers and film-makers portray them gratuitously and in poor taste, that they are not useful for progressing the story? Scriptural narrative contains a significant amount of sex, violence, and other vices. Instead of attempting to with-hold them from story altogether (its amazing to me how the CCA managed to exist in a country valuing freedom of speech), we should concentrate on producing quality art, where the sex and violence and addiction necessary to move the story line is not presented gratuitously, or inserted where it is not necessary to move the story line. Perhaps artistic quality is what should be in question here, not the assumption that life imitates art. Because, even if it did, shouldn’t we want it to imitate quality art?

I suppose, in retrospect, that I was shielded from a great deal of this, as Marvel Comics phased out of submitting their material for CCA approval, and because I gravitated toward other publishers who didn’t bother with approval in the first place. Knowing that I was unwittingly exposed to censorship, though, leaves me profoundly disappointed in many ways.

Even more disappointing is realizing what I would have been effectively shielded from had artists focused on presenting “questionable subject matter” is artistically substantive ways, and those who refused to do so were not able to win over such an audience. That, of course, would involve the taste of American audiences leaning toward substance.

Some days, I’m even optimistic enough to think that might happen.

Always Looking for a Name

The meeting of popular culture and Christian faith baffles me.

There seems to have been a wave for the last few years of identifying categories, into which we must all apparently fall as Christ-followers. I think it began innocently enough with the examination of the Scripture’s presentation of spiritual gifts. Scripture provides us with definite gifts that manifest in the Believer as deemed appropriate by the Holy Spirit. The marketing engine got its hands on this, however, and suddenly we were flooded with “spiritual gift inventories” and the like. It became the new language in which to speak: we identified each other by where we perceived our spiritual giftings to lie.

Then came the spiritual disciplines. Suddenly, we had a new vernacular for things that the Scriptures encouraged us to do from the beginning. Except, now, we called them “solitude” and “submission,” etc. By applying new titles, we gave them new life in our minds. And, perhaps more importantly to many, we gave ourselves new Christian sub-culture slang expressions to use. “I’m going on a solitude retreat;” or “I practice simplicity as a lifestyle.”

The latest of these semantic categorizations is the spiritual pathways. Roughly similar to Gardner’s Multiple Intelligences, these are supposedly the different manners in which all Believers “connect with God.” Now we have another way to label ourselves with new boxes! See, now, isn’t that fun??

Here’s my issue: let’s take the person who is extroverted, who loves being around people, and is gifted at building relationships with others (essentially, the exact opposite of me). They would identify themselves as having the “relational” pathway, so they spend all of their time around other people, thinking that they grow closer to God through “community.” Except, this hypothetical person doesn’t spend much time reflecting on Scripture. Because, after all, that’s for those with an “intellectual pathway.”

At some point, this become a self-fulfilling prophecy. God has left the responsibility with all Believers to know His Scripture, to meditate on it, and to use it as a guide. However, if someone is introduced to faith being told that they have a “relational” or “nature” pathway, then they don’t see the point in spending time with Scripture, because its not their label. Worse, the person who becomes frustrated with the exercise of reading the Scripture in our largely illiterate culture now has an excuse for not spending time learning and reflecting on what it says (“I’m not that intellectual. Its not my pathway.”).

I think we’re doing a great deal of harm to ourselves in our rush to have ways to categorize and easily reference each other. Perhaps if we just accepted each other as the incredibly complex and different individuals that God created us to be, we would find life to be much simpler.

Of course, that wouldn’t work for American Christianity. We wouldn’t know what to call it.