"Boys are Stupid"

"Kerry" probably has a thing for "Andrew A."
(photo credit to myself)

“Boys are stupid.”

Many a girl has spewed those words in a fit of infatuated rage. And the phrase is usually followed with a tale of a romantic intrigue, love triangulation, and an attractive but oblivious male with an infuriating Cupid-immunity. Or at least, that’s how most of the girls I interviewed (just kidding, this isn’t scientific) justified the phrase. But then most of the girls I talk to are boy-crazy college gals, which isn’t exactly a fair demographic. Although … I have heard it from older women too … primarily in the context of forgotten anniversaries/tactless remarks/yet-to-be-fulfilled promises/etc.

Nevertheless, I’ve always thought the generalization was rather unfair. Until one day it hit me … boys are kind of stupid. They – generally speaking – do not pick up on the social subtleties, the nonverbal and unstated (yet extremely meaningful) relational hints that girls give. Like the “Hey, would you help me fix my car” line, which obviously translates to “I like you, and I think you’re cool, and I think that WE PROBABLY OUGHTA HANG OUT MORE OFTEN!!!”**   sigh   So obviously obvious.

So, yes, boys are stupid when it comes to romance. Thank the Maker. Because girls are ridiculously silly when it comes to romance.

Girls. Oye. How shall I describe them? Hypersensitive, manipulative, hormonal (need I go on?), vain, overly-jealous, drama queens (yes, I needed to go on). And if the boys ever caught on to how truly silly the girls were … well, we might not have a human race.

So the next time, girls, when you’re freaking out (screaming underwater, practicing Lamaze at stoplights, crying over a pint of ice cream, etc.) because your target isn’t falling into any of the traps you’re setting, just stop. And be grateful. Because he’s also not going to call security when you “randomly” walk by his locker every Tuesday morning. Or calculate the awkwardness of your every conversation. Or schedule a counseling session to help you get a grip on your mania. Count them blessings, girls, count them blessings.

Bottom line: boys are stupid because girls are silly. It’s a survival technique. Thank the Maker.

**This does not guarantee the flirtatious nature of every female plea for vehicular assistance. Exercise caution, use the Force, and don’t sue me.

The Gulag

A sad little fly who doesn't know where his life is going anymore. 
Photo credit to Shannon McGregor

Coming home has been a difficult adjustment. Which is weird. Because I love home. I love my family. But … I’m not happy here anymore. And I’m not entirely sure why.

Except that I feel like I’ve been left behind in the middle of nowhere. I can feel my thoughts and ideas and personality fading out like a beach towel that's been exposed to the sun for too long. And not only are my ideas draining away, but my confidence levels are also dropping quickly. Which means I’m losing energy and initiative – fast.

It gets better when I work at the shop, but it hits hard as soon as I’m off-duty. Sometimes I don’t even want to go home after my shift because I know how bad the rest of my afternoon is going to be. Today Vic (a friend of the family) came into the coffee shop and asked how life in the Gulag is going. Which was a funny intrusion of reality into my happy little coffee shop dream world.

The Gulag. That’s my nickname for life at home. Just a colorful way to say “being stuck out in a barren wasteland, cut off from any place where I can do anything of significance, filling my days with trivial activities instead.”

Vic told me a story of how soldiers used to struggle with coming home from the war. Because they’d been living in an adrenaline-filled environment for so long that they couldn’t get traction in civilian life. During the war, they faced the possibility of dying every morning they went out. And then coming home each night meant that you’d survived – you’d beaten the odds! And you’d accomplished something worthwhile. There was an awareness of the reality of things, the greatness of things. That’s what they’d been living with. And then they came home to the mundane things of life, to the unhurried, to the petty … it was difficult.

He said that that’s what college is kind of like (emphasis on “kind of”). Constant deadlines, adrenaline-enforced schedules, and idealistic conversations. And to come home, to be off that schedule, to be out of that big-picture environment … it’s difficult. I was surprised with how much this rang true to me.

For the past three school years and this past summer, I’ve lived and breathed college life (and set life, which is surprisingly similar). I’ve had to work round the clock, late nights, early mornings, 14-hour days on my feet. And I’ve loved it. Loved it. But now, I’m at home with nothing to do. And I’m floundering. I still find myself trying to live the college kid’s schedule: staying up late, getting up early, downing the caffeine to stay awake. Which is silly. Because I finally have time and the freedom to do whatever I want. I could actually get 8 hours of sleep if I wanted to. And yet I find myself staying up late. Too used to scraping by on 6 or 7 hours, I guess.

You know when you’re flying downhill on a bike, and you try to pedal, but your legs just jerk because there’s no resistance in the chain? That’s how I’ve been feeling. I feel extremely restless – I’m not a part of anything bigger than myself right now. And I’m aching to find another project. But what’s the point of pedaling if you can’t get any traction?

I’m also frustrated because I don’t have a posse anymore.  For the past few years, I’ve lived as a part of close-knit community. And I’ve become extremely extraverted and communicative. So much so that I struggle to even think or emote properly without a buddy to share my daily thoughts and questions and fears with. I’m not saying I don’t have friends out here. But I don’t have my roommates. Or the girls I entrusted my secrets with. Or the buddies who ventured into uncharted filming territory with me. I miss my pals something terrible. And there’s a part of me that I can’t access without them.

That’s the thing: I’ve lost my team, my unit. And I’ve lost a part of my identity with them.

I worked hard at school, and gained a lot of competency and confidence there. Which gave me a name on campus, a community, a skill set, a vision. I knew who I was and what I could do for people and where I was going in life. But out here, all that’s been stripped away from me. I can’t utilize my skill sets, I can’t collaborate with others, I can’t explore ideas out here. I don’t know who I am to these people. I can’t help them in the way I’ve been taught to help people (making films). Which I suppose is how a soldier feels when he’s reintroduced to civilian life.

Someone asked if I feel left out of what’s happening back on campus. And the answer is no. I don’t feel excluded – I’m glad to be done and out! (though I definitely miss it) But I do feel forgotten. Not by anyone in particular. But just in general. I feel like I’ve fallen off the truck and am now just wandering along the highway by my lonesome. I don’t even know what to do with myself or what my next moves should be. Except I know I need to get a car. But that’s a lame answer. Because a car is only a stepping stone. Once I get a car, where will I go with it? I should be looking further ahead. But I’m not. Not really.

Which is what scares me the most. I’m comfortable here. I like being home. I enjoy not having any pressing responsibilities or worries. And in all honesty, that’s probably a smart move because I probably couldn’t shoulder those responsibilities in a financially-safe manner yet. But I’m slipping into auto-pilot. I’m just comfortable enough that I’m not thinking ahead. I’m fading fast. And that majorly freaks me out.

Dreaming of Reality

The other night I dreamt about this tap-dancer guy who was exploring an abandoned studio. Suddenly – in the middle of his tap routine – the studio caught fire and burned to the ground.  Umm ... ok?

Then I woke up and realized how extremely warm I felt. Hence Mr. Tap Dancer’s fiery death. Sadness. So I kicked off the covers. Which is weird, because my house is a freezer, and it’s never warm enough to just lie there exposed to the open air. Then my mom came in and tried to have a conversation with me, but I was too busy enjoying the breeze. And then I realized there couldn’t be a breeze. Because I was encased in flannel pajamas and buried beneath three layers of blankets. Also, my mom was definitely not in the room. Ergo, I was still dreaming! And then I woke up for real this time.

So, basically, I had just had a dual layer dream. You know, like Inception.
BRAHMMMMMMMM

Anywho, I think it’s interesting that in Mr. Tap Dancer World, my mind expressed the heating issue as a fire. But I think it’s even more interesting that the first time I “woke up,” my mind realized what the real problem was, and recognized the fire in my “dream” as an expression of that deeper issue. And yet, despite this incredible amount of self-knowledge, I still had no clue what was actually going on. I didn’t know that I was four-layers deep in flannel and quilt. I just sort of sensed I felt warm and interpreted the fire accordingly.

I think we live 99% of our lives in a dream world. Or a dream within a dream world. It’s very difficult for people to read their own hearts and acquire self-knowledge of the primary reality. Human hearts are too convoluted, human wills too manipulative, and human minds too murky. Consequently, no one can fully identify or express the reality of their soul’s condition (motivations, feelings, thoughts, decisions, morality etc.) – because no one really knows what’s going on inside! At least, not in the moment (hindsight may/may not be another matter).

So for the most part, I think we live in a secondary reality, a dream world. A world informed by, but not necessarily aware of, the true issues at hand. In which we recognize the problem as a heating issue, but do not understand the cause of the problem, namely flannel pajamas. Actually, I think that’s giving us way too much credit. We’re way too distracted/ego-inflated to be that self-aware. Or, at least, I’m not that self-aware. Instead, I think we normally operate in a tertiary reality, the dream within a dream world. We live in a world constructed by our own perceptions (subjective interpretations of objective realities) of ourselves and others.

And when something goes down, and the dance studio randomly burns up, we struggle to understand it all. And then we wake up to the secondary reality, with a clearer sense of responsibility and self-awareness. And that’s when we realize there’s an internal issue, a personal character flaw, behind the meltdown drama. The wake-up call brings about a reexamination of our actions and assumptions. Which (hopefully) yields a clearer image of the real problem. But even an x-ray is only a 2D image. It’s not the full picture.

There’s still a deeper layer, a layer of myself that I don’t usually have access to, a layer dealing with decisions, fears, and motivations. Sure I realize that I'm cursing my friend's name because I haven't forgiven him. Sure I know it’s wrong and that I need to stop. But how do I get myself to stop? I can confess my sin others, I can pray for the grace to forgive, I can quote verses to myself about the need to forgive others. But it feels so empty and cliché sometimes. How is that possible if I’m speaking the truth of the situation and citing the Words of Life?

Here’s the thing: I’m not speaking from an authentic understanding of the situation on the ground level. Yes, I've figured out that I've got a forgiveness issue, based on the fact that I'm still cursing my friend, but I don't understand why.  I’m stuck in the dream world, only reading the symptoms (the 2nd world intuitions, 3rd world antics) and prescribing the textbook medication. Which means there’s a lot of room for misdiagnosis. Or at the very least, insincerity.

So while I may be speaking the truth of the situation (Hello, my name is Erin and I have a heating issue), I don’t really understand what the root of the issue is or what needs to happen to overcome it. I’m not aware that I’m covered in flannel. And while God’s Word is addressing the flannel issue, that doesn’t help me to feel the flannel. Not as long as I’m living in the dream world. Which melts all the arrows of cynicism I aim at people who spout clichés about deep soul issues. Because maybe those cartoonish cliches compose their best understanding of the situation. And maybe they are misinterpreting the carichature. But maybe they’re not – maybe it’s just too crude a drawing to feel genuine.

One last thought: we might be tempted to think that we just need to wake up – really wake up – to the prime reality. Be done with all this dreaming nonsense. The problem is I don’t think we can. I don’t think we were made to function on that level, at least not for very long. Maybe it’s a part of man’s curse, to be stuck in the dream world. Maybe that’s what redemption means, to finally wake up from this haze.

“… this is why it is said: ‘Wake up, O sleeper, rise from the dead, and Christ will shine on you.’” Ephesians 5:14

Cynicism vs. Skepticism

I think most of us have had negative experiences with certain groups of people (take the MECCA, for example).  Which naturally leads to disillusionment.  And criticism.  And sarcasm.  And ironic wit, if you're clever and/or snarky.  And thank goodness for that disillusionment!  Because it provokes honest conversation about what's really being said/done/expected.  Which is how you get bad situations to change. 

But sometimes (actually most of the time) disillusionment turns into cynicism.  And cynicism doesn't care about improving the situation.  It only cares about destroying the situation.  Cynicism is not healthy.  Nor God-honoring.  And I truly, truly mean that.  We cannot let disillusionment ferment and fester until it becomes cynicism.  Instead, we must boil it down to clear-headed skepticism. 

What makes skepticism better than cynicism?  Both understand that something is majorly off-key.  But the cynic walks away from the situation, essentially damning the community.  He assumes that nothing will ever change and therefore alienates himself from the group.  Meanwhile the skeptic throws himself back into the situation, desperately trying to alter its course.  He constantly hopes for redemption and therefore allies himself with the group.*

That's the difference:  Cynicism judges while Skepticism evaluates.  Cynicism gives up, Skepticism stays engaged.  Cynicism divorces, Skepticism attempts to reconcile. 

And that is why I need to admit that my last two posts weren't the most well-written; they had a lot of cynical leanings.  I wasn't being careful to posture my thoughts in a way that encouraged consideration and reconciliation.  I wrote rather aggressively and offensively.  Because honestly, that's how I've felt towards the MECCA for the past few years.  Very bitter.  Very nit-picky.  Very external.  I pulled out of the community, but continued to observe and critique it.  Which isn't right.  If I don't want to be a part of a group, I don't have the right to constantly critique it.  I should just move on.  And yet I can't help but continue to critique the MECCA, mostly because I feel so strongly about the issues. 

Which means that I had better get involved and put those critiques to positive use. 
Lord, have mercy.

*Not that the Skeptic is some enlightened guru, coming down to help the mortals see the error of their ways.  He is just another guy in the community.  With all the normal rights (to speak up and push for change) and responsibilities (commitment to the other members' well being) of a normal community member.  Community, man, it's all about community.

Most people are too chicken to witness, but the ones with a backbone will do it anyways.

Here’s another thing about MECCA-style evangelism:  there’s this really compulsory quality to it.

As in, if you’re afraid to witness to someone, by golly, you’d better buck up and do it or you’ll disown Jesus. And you know, if you are ashamed of Jesus on earth, He’ll be ashamed of you in Heaven. The same goes for when you’re debating whether or not you should do something crazy for Jesus (like jump up on a fire hydrant and start preaching to the people on the sidewalk). You don’t really want to ‘cause it’d be really awkward, but by golly, this must be the Holy Spirit talking to you, so hop on up there and just open your mouth, let the words flow.

It’s kind of like those ever-popular Facebook statuses which say something like “3 million kittens are murdered every 15 seconds by mousetraps. If you care about saving the rainforest, ending world hunger, or rescuing the polar bears trapped on floating blocks of ice, you’ll repost this status. 99% of people are too chicken to do it, but the 1% with backbones will do it anyways.”

Don’t worry, I exaggerate. MECCA thinking isn’t quite that bad. ‘Cause there’s grace with Jesus. Also, percentages are never listed in the Bible. Not technically speaking, anyways.  However, there is an eerie resemblence between those Facebook thingies and MECCAite attitudes on Holy Spirit promptings.

Honestly, though, telling Christians that ‘anytime they start feeling like they should do something crazy it must be the Holy Spirit’s prompting’ is a very bad idea. I don’t mean to say that the Holy Spirit never tells people to do crazy things. But I think very few people can tell the difference between God’s voice and their own voice in their heads. I think most of the time people’s idea of what they ought to be doing is informed by what they’ve been told they ought to be doing, rather than by the Holy Spirit’s prompting. I could give numerous embarrassing personal antecedents on this subject, but I’ll suffice with one slightly less-awkward one.

Once upon a family road trip, young thirteen-year-old-Erin got it stuck in her head that she needed to be witnessing at all times. Specifically, I remember sitting in the back of the family minivan, crying hard into a pillow which I’d stuffed to my face so my family wouldn’t hear me. I was crying because I knew that if I truly loved Jesus I would be screaming “God loves you!” out the window at people as we drove down the freeway. But I was also keenly aware that that would be more than a little bit weird – not only to the other drivers, but especially to my family! And I couldn’t bear that. So all I could manage were whispers of “God loves you,” barely squeaked out the back window of the van where the rushing wind covered it and perhaps carried it away.

What the heck? Was the Holy Spirit actually telling me to do that? I don’t think so; pretty sure that was a leftover concept from witnessing training in youth group. Unfortunately I have a worry-wart’s disposition, so I was constantly second-guessing every crazy idea that popped into my head. And because I was under the impression that the Holy Spirit frequently told kids to do crazy things for Jesus, my mind began to invent crazier and crazier things to do. It was kind of a destructive cycle.

Here's the thing: the idea that the Holy Spirit is probably telling them to do something strange is really just a filtered down and Christianized version of the rugged, answers-to-no-one-but-himself Lone Ranger concept.  In other words, this type of thinking emphasizes the individual over the community. It assumes that the Holy Spirit takes people out of the culture and places them above it. And I really don't think that's healthy or wise or God-honoring. God is all about community. The Trinity is the ultimate form of community.  (Btw, it's weird how we're forming a community around the idea of individualism - how does that even work?  Idk, but that's what America's been doing for years I guess)

This is what I fear MECCA ideology can lead to: dishonest/disconnected "communities" of miserable and lonely people, straining to achieve all their God-honoring duties.

Or at least, that’s how I ended up by age fifteen.

There’s definitely more I could talk about with the MECCA, but I think I'll stop for now. Stay tuned for more posts about the joys and sorrows of living within the MECCA.

The MECCA

If you've ever had a serious discussion about modern Christianity with me, you've probably already heard me refer to the “MECCA.” It’s an acronym I use to identify a large subculture that exists within our society, namely the Modern Evangelical Christian Culture of America.

You know what I'm talking about; a lifestyle which consists of listening to only Christian music (like Casting Crowns or Toby Mac), reading Christian books (like “Left Behind” or “Love’s Long Journey”), watching Christian movies (like Fireproof, McGee and Me), using Christian lingo (like “pray your precious blood over them” or “accept him into your heart”), wearing Christian t-shirts (the ones with verses on them, loud n’ proud), playing Christian video games, etc. It's all part of a lifestyle which many, many, many evangelical Christians swear allegiance to. Please note that the MECCA really is a culture in its own right and not simply good Christian living. That is, the MECCA is not just pure Bible-based Jesus-following, a way of life that transcends time and is applicable in any society. Instead, the MECCA is a special brand of Christianity, a fusion of American culture and Biblical Christianity.

Now don't freak out; fusion is not necessarily a bad thing. Christianity at the core is about the relationship between God and the Church. And that relationship does transcend time and society. Christianity is ultimately a community, not a culture. That said, community cannot be lived outside of culture, outside of an established methodology. Think about trying to have a good marriage without defining a budget. Not so functional.

Theology is unchanging, but methodology (aka culture) is constantly changing. Culture is simply a man-made modus operandi, a standardization of expectations and procedures (my definition, not Webster’s). And it is not a sinful, rebellious thing just because it’s man-made. I think culture-creation was part of the original mandate given by God to man in Genesis 1:28-30.

“God blessed them and said to them, ‘Be fruitful and increase in number; fill the earth and subdue it. Rule over the fish of the sea and the birds of the air and over every living creature that moves on the ground.’” Gen 1:28

So it is appropriate for Christians to be crafting a Biblically-informed way of life for themselves within the context of the larger American culture. That said, there's a lot about the MECCA that I find unappealing and off-kilter. And I’m not really talking about the consumerism of it all; I’m talking about the ideologies and assumptions within it.

Before I go any further, I should probably explain that I am a native MECCAite. It is my primary culture, the one I grew up in and the one I'm most closely connected to right now. Throughout the years, I've been both blessed and wounded by the MECCA, leaving me with a hopefully wiser perspective on MECCAite living. So please note the attitudes and behaviors I’m critiquing are ones I’ve seen in myself as much as (if not more than) in others. I really am the biggest MECCAite of them all.

That said, one of the biggest issues I see in the MECCA is the amount of dogmatism associated with it. Members tend to be very, very committed to the MECCAite culture. That goes for ideas, beliefs, and theology as well as for practices, boycotts, and clichés. There seems to be a very intense us-versus-them mentality. Not that there isn’t a clear line between believers and non-believers. But MECCAites tend to apply that distinction to their culture. It becomes very easy to define “us” as the good Christians who listen to Christian music and read Lord of the Rings and “them” as the apostates/unbelievers who listen to secular music and read Harry Potter. It’s a very pressure-filled situation; either you’re with us or you’re against us.

This carries over into MECCAite evangelism, an area which causes me especial discomfort. Here's a hyperbolic sketch of MECCA evangelism: the believer sneaks in as much spiritual content as possible into any and every conversation with unsuspecting non-believers, thereby subtly (or perhaps not-so-subtly) convicting said non-believer into repentance.

This strikes me as not being very respectful or relational.

Here's the thing:  spiritual choices cut to the core of a person’s identity and stability. Those kinds of choices are not to be made lightly, not by believers and not by non-believers. To expect a non-believer to just roll over and scream “I believe, I believe, I’ll empty my bank account today and move to India tomorrow” is not respecting the gravity of the situation. Think about what we're asking people to do. On a similar note, I really, really do not like alter-calls/recommit-your-life/pledge-to-read-your-Bible-for-30-days type situations – the situations that usually come at the end of a retreat or conference. In fact, I absolutely refuse to participate in these types of activities. I will not make any sort of public declaration or decision in a pressure-filled environment. Instead, I will wait until after the conference is over to make my decision – even if it means looking like a heathen because I’m the only one in my row not going up for rededication. It’s awkward, for sure, but it’s less awkward then trying to figure out in 30 seconds or less if I actually intend to follow through with the proposed commitment. Also, I’ve decided that 500+ other people do not need to know whether or not I will be reading Mark for the next 30 days. They don’t know me and they hold no position of influence in my life, so why should I share a personal decision with them?

Which brings me to my next point: there are boundaries in relationships. It’s just a fact of life, a social reality. Not just anybody has the right to speak to you in a personal way, to ask you to make choices, and to then expect you to listen to their advice. That’s an important principle of relationships – people do not (and should not) open up their hearts to just anyone.

Suppose the guy standing next to you on the elevator told you that you should never use Styrofoam cups because they take hundreds of years to decompose, and then stared pointedly at the coffee cup in your hand, thereby signaling his expectation for you to swear off Styrofoam forever. This scenario ends with you feeling angry at the man and contemplating throwing the coffee on his shirt. Not because you disagreed with what he was saying. But because he doesn’t have the right to advise you on your life and EXPECT your compliance. Doesn’t matter that he has a doctorate in Styrofoam. Again, it’s not because what he’s saying is wrong. It’s because he’s assuming a position of influence in your life that he hasn’t earned. And yet, that seems to be the attitude of the evangelizer towards the evangelized – that this stranger/acquaintance should allow you to have a say in their lives.

It really is the expectation that miffs me the most. It’s one thing to be honest about how you view the world or even how you view another person’s situation. It’s a totally different thing to draw a line in the sand and stake the relationship on it, as in “things are going to be awkward between you and me unless you agree with what I’m saying.” If Dr. Styrofoam had simply shared what he'd learned about Styrofoam without drawing conclusions about what you ought to be doing about it, you probably would have found the info very interesting and compelling. Perhaps you would have quietly tucked the coffee cup out of sight instead of dumping it on Dr. Styrofoam's tie.

Here’s the thing: your friendship isn’t hanging in the balance over their salvation – their soul is what’s hanging the balance. And the soul is not some target that you shoot at and try to decimate. People are complex and they are not to be conquered. They are to be redeemed. 

Wow, I can’t believe I’m saying all this. I sound like such a relativist. Let’s be clear: I am by no means a person who holds multiple, contradictory views of the world and is therefore content with everyone sticking to their own opinions about religion, life, and the flatness of the world. On the contrary, I am very much of the mind that there is one reality/truth, even if we don't all understand it properly. 

However, I am of German/Norwegian upbringing, which means that I have a very strong sense of the public versus the private life. And I get very defensive when someone from the public sector attempts to breach that line, because the person is trying to get inside my heart where I don't trust them yet. I'm sorry, but the relationship just doesn’t warrant it. And I want to respect that line, that dignity, in other people too.  I want to offer them an honest and accurate picture of stupid sin and glorious salvation, but I don't want to disrespect them by making assumptions about their personal motivations, options, or futures.  Not without being invited beyond the public boundary, at any rate.

Oofta.  That's enough about the MECCA for one post.  Stay tuned for more MECCA reflections.