All posts by Michael Clinger

Native of the 615. Avid sports fan and reality television consumer. Into Jesus. Engaged to a wondrous woman.
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on “faith over fear”

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Let’s talk about “faith over fear” for a second.

I agree, we should have faith in God over the fear of our circumstances. 2 Timothy 1:7 says:

“For God gave us a spirit not of fear but of power and love and self-control.”

In situations when we’re afraid to act because of fear, God empowers us with the Spirit to love ourselves and others as well as exercise self-control and not act rashly.

I’ve seen many Christians over the past few months use this phrase “faith over fear” as a reason to resume church services as normal. I understand that desire to be together. The truth is, online church sucks compared to being together in person. Being with each other is incredibly meaningful and sometimes, it’s even a transformative experience. God created us for community. There are, right now, plenty of ways for small groups to gather and experience depth of conversation, joy, grief, and life together.

I earnestly desire to be in our church’s meeting location again to see my family, share communion, play with the kids, and connect with my friends over coffee in the lobby. Born and bred by the Church, I often feel as if I’m operating without a limb if I don’t “go to church” on Sundays. Right now, our church isn’t meeting in our regular space at our regular time, and it’s been hard. We’re trying other things, and you’re right, it’s not the same.

But I agree with and support our church’s decision. Why? Because God gives us a Spirit of power and love and self-control. God empowers us to love our neighbors as ourselves and with the ability to exercise self-control in order to put the needs of others over ourselves. Right now, if we are being told there’s a higher likelihood than normal that people could get very sick, why risk it? I know a lot of churches are fully back at it, and that’s their decision to make. I don’t mean to tell other people what to do.

What I do think is that we really need to stop using “faith over fear” to shame others or claim that our freedom of religion is being infringed upon. I do believe that for many, there is a rush to get back together like normal out of fear. Fears that some of our folks will not come back to our churches. Fears that our churches will run out of money. Fears that things will never be the same. I have good news: we can have faith over those fears.

We can have faith that God is working all things for good. We can have faith that God is preparing new avenues for growth and transformation, even as we are filled with fear. We can be patient, understanding that the Kingdom of God is so much bigger than this moment, our times, and our church buildings. Nothing that we as individuals do is even close to big enough to limit God’s power in any way.

So I’ll end with this. God has empowered us with love and self-control. We can have faith that God works outside of our normals. God is good, and way bigger than this moment.

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With Love

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Reader,

I hope that this finds you well. As a society, we find ourselves in a *hopefully* once in a lifetime strangeness. Our lives have been disrupted, we’re concerned for ourselves and others, and we are grieving the loss of what we had hoped this season would hold. Weddings and graduations cancelled and postponed, relationships strained, and lives changed. I’ve had my days of despair feeling at my wit’s end with this lonely time, and I’m guessing you may have gotten there sometime over the last month+. I get it. This is hard.

And somehow in the midst of it all, I find myself more connected to what I believe to be the Spirit of God than I have in years. For control freaks like me, I guess in some ways that makes sense. I can’t even trick myself into believing that I have power over my situation right now. Maybe you’re there. I don’t tell you all of this to let you know what a spiritual giant I am, instead I tell you this to let you know that my ego gets in the way sometimes… ok probably a lot of times. And maybe yours does too? These days I am finding truth in the places that I had forgotten to look, or the places to which I had become dismissive. My heart is softening to the earth and those in it. I’m finding that in this more simplistic lifestyle I have been forced into, I can find the Spirit in the little things – the things I often look over.

Anyways, however you are responding to being a person during this strange time, I want you to know that you’re not alone. People love you and miss you, even when you don’t feel like it. Yes, even you! Thankfully, we can still connect in ways that I have scoffed at before. If you feel alone, reach out. Odds are the person on the other end feels similarly.

Breathe in, breathe out, see yourself. You’re actually awesome. A miracle in fact!

Love,

Michael

 

Faith, Faith and Culture, Uncategorized

A “too political” Essay for Christians Like Me

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I haven’t written much lately. That’s not because there hasn’t been anything going on in our world or in my life, and it’s definitely not because I didn’t have any thoughts about what’s been going on in the world or in my life. I think that for most of the last year, I decided that I needed to take a step back for several different reasons. I thought that I was talking a lot, and I needed to listen more. I was afraid that people may start to view me as too political (ugh, I know), or that I was ignoring the parts of myself that needed work because I was consistently pointing out the flaws and injustices of everyone else while ignoring the issues that I was causing or having to deal with. I think in many ways, I stopped believing that anything I did or said on the internet could or would affect positive change or growth in the world outside of my computer screen.

Let me state that I am not a perfect vessel for any sort of justice work, and I know that. But, I am going to try my best and likely say things imperfectly because I think I’m supposed to try. I’m afraid that there are many other people out there like me who want to say something, but they’re afraid to because it may come out wrong, so instead they don’t use their voice at all. So here goes nothing:

 

I thought I would eloquently write some memoir-ish style stories from my own life and weave them into many of the issues I care about, but that’s not where my head is at today. Instead I think I’ll just give it to you straight. It will save you some time reading and save me some stories for another time. There’s also too many issues swirling in my head to do that well.

Christian friends, please remember when reading: I love you. Even if I disagree with you, I don’t hate you. I love you.

Here’s some things those professing Christianity should consider in 2020:

Ending the Death Penalty:

In 2020, two millennia after the cornerstone of the Christian faith, Jesus, was put to death by the state, why is the Death Penalty still legal, and why are the majority of the supporters Evangelical Christians like me? In my home state of Tennessee, there have been 12 executions since 2000. There were not any executions in Tennessee in the 20 years leading up to 2000. Why do so many claim Pro-Life stances and then support the premature ending of life? Professed Christian and Tennessee Governor Bill Lee has the authority to pause all scheduled executions via gubernatorial moratorium (California, Colorado, Oregon, and Pennsylvania), but he has ignored his standing invitation to go and pray with the death row inmates in Tennessee. Where is the grace in this legislation? Is the justice of the Kingdom of God found in such retributive justice? For each of our sakes, I hope that Kingdom Justice is found in other ways. Ending life is not a redemptive act. Jesus stood down a group of people ready to stone a woman, and they all dropped their stones and went home. Perhaps followers of Jesus should do the same.

Welcoming Refugees:

You’ve likely heard this before, so I don’t want to beat a dead horse, but after Jesus was born, his family had to flee to Egypt because the land of Israel was not safe for him. So yes, Jesus was a refugee. That’s in Matthew 2:13-23 for the fact checkers. Other of our Bible friends were refugees – like Ruth. Aren’t we glad that Boaz welcomed her? They ended up being some of the ancestors of Jesus. More than that, for the Old Testament lovers, God gives a clear command to the people of God in Leviticus 19:33-34, “Do not take advantage of foreigners who live among you in your land. Treat them like native-born Israelites, and love them as you love yourself. Remember that you were once foreigners living in the land of Egypt. I am the LORD your God.” This really doesn’t seem too much like an optional deal to me. You are not in danger, these folks – like you and me – just want a safe place to live.

***OK, now we’re at the point where you might be about to check-out because what Michael has written is just too political. Here’s the thing: to me, our faith and our politics cannot be separated. Everything that we do and all the people that we support, reflect what we have put our faith in. We show what we believe and what we are trusting in with our actions. Political action such as voting or even endorsing someone on Facebook, reveals a little more of our priorities and beliefs about the world. So if you think I’m being too political, I disagree, but I don’t hate you. I love you.

Stopping Support for Un-Ethical Leaders:

I am weary from beating around the bush so much in 2019, so here goes, supporting President Donald Trump is severely problematic at best and dangerous at worst. Endorsing this president in front of your kids, grandkids, or friends is harmful to the brand of Christianity that you claim. Any person who openly speaks so offensively about women, minorities, and his peers while using the Name of Jesus to gain political power is not someone we should be supporting. If someone simply tweets a Bible verse and you interpret that as an offense against the President, what does that say about the President? For too long, good people like you and me have buried their heads in the sand while the President of our country pushes policies that harm marginalized people groups and serves himself. This level of moral impunity is not worth the Supreme Court Justice that you wanted. Please acknowledge wrongdoing for what it is and do not support those who bring it about. Yes, please pray for our president and other leaders. Pray that they will make decisions that bend our world towards justice. And if they are not doing that, Pray that they will change their ways, but don’t support someone who you think is doing wrong.

Stopping Support for War:

For the record, this is not me coming out as unsupportive of the members of our military. I have real life friends who are currently in the military and have been in the past. Just this afternoon, I was counseling a young friend who is graduating high school in May. We’ve talked often about him entering the military after high school. I don’t think it’s a bad idea for him. I hope that our troops are compensated well and their health – both mental and physical – is given high priority. What I don’t support is our government entering into violent conflict. Many of our governments leaders, President Trump included, claim Christian faith. A core tenant in the life and ministry of Jesus was non-violence. I honestly really struggle with understanding the Christian support of war, ever. Jesus talks of the blessedness of the peacemakers, but war seems to do the opposite. I know that the current situation is very nuanced, and I am not well-read enough to make an educated comment on our current state of affairs with Iran, but I can say, to me, war is never a good option. I don’t hate people who disagree, but I am asking that my fellow Christians, in order to follow Jesus more earnestly, to consider the how and why of your support or lack of support. Pray for peace.

In Conclusion:

If you disagree with me, I don’t hate you. If you think I’m being too political, I disagree with you, but I don’t hate you. I love you. Some things transcend political philosophy and enter into what I believe to be an ethical issue. These issues have become bigger than Republican v. Democrat or Liberal v. Conservative to me. I hope that in reading this you consider what I’ve brought up and haven’t simply dismissed it, but if you have, I don’t hate you. I love you. This year, let’s be people who wholeheartedly march towards justice and redemption for all people.

 

With Love,

Michael

Faith

Is God not mad… just disappointed?

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How do you think God reacts when we do wrong?

I asked this question to a group of 7-12 grade students from our student ministry last night. As always, I told them that there were no wrong answers. If the question asks what you think, and you say what you think, then you get the answer right. While they couldn’t possibly answer the question incorrectly – unless they were lying – I was hoping against hope that they wouldn’t answer, “I think God gets mad at us.”

And they didn’t say, “God gets mad at us when we mess up.” Hooray! Youth ministry win.

They gave the answer that I think a lot of people (including sometimes me) would, “I don’t think God gets mad at us when we mess up… It’s probably more like when we do something wrong and we get caught by our parents. Then they say something like, ‘We’re not mad. We’re just disappointed that you did this.‘ Like I don’t think God gets mad when we mess up, just disappointed.”

 

We’ve come a long way since the Sinners in the Hands of an Angry God theology. Most of us are passing on a view of God that isn’t this powerfully vengeful being watching over us who punishes us when we mess up. We’ve come a long way from our hell-fire and brimstone God who will throw someone into eternal damnation for swearing too much or having sex. We have replaced this angry, vengeful view of God with a view of God that is far more tame and human. In this view, God doesn’t want to punish us, God’s feelings just get hurt a lot. With this outlook, God is a friend who we didn’t sit with at lunch or a good parent that caught us in a lie.

At my private Christian middle school (circa  2007) we often unironically sang a song in chapel time called, Can He Still Feel the Nails. It goes like this:

Can He still feel the nails every time I fail?

Can He hear the crowd cry “crucify” again?

Am I causing Him pain, when I know I’ve got to change?

Because I just can’t bear the thought of hurting Him.

Yeah I know. A song that I think many would fairly deem manipulative.

While myself and many in my thought sphere have – in adulthood – laughed at the vast fallacy of that song and other sayings like it, I think we’re still walking around with much of the residue from those views. We’ve abandoned a view of God who hurts us because of our imperfection, and we have adopted a view of God who is hurt by our imperfection. So while we’ve been so right to run from this vengeful view of God, we may have sat down someplace that we need not stay.

 

This may get fairly philosophical for a bit. Roll with it.

I also just want to say, at a certain point, theology and theological arguments are in some sense broken and unhelpful because we cannot – though we may try – divorce ourselves from our different perspectives. So many people have different ideas and views on the Divine, and perhaps God is big enough to hold all of them. That said, I’ll try and make an argument that may be helpful.

So is God disappointed in us when we fail? Or when we don’t do our best?

A key underlying assumption to even asking this question is God cares about my own personal thoughts and actions. If God does not, then how could we disappoint God? We of course, cannot disappoint someone who does not care. So for the sake of argument, let’s say that God is concerned with me as an individual (my thoughts, actions, being).

Our view of God as a father or parental figure seems to really play into this view of a disappointed God. If growing up, my mom always told me, “Don’t smoke,” and she never saw or became suspicious of me smoking, she would likely expect that I don’t smoke. At that point, if she expects that I haven’t ever smoked, and she catches me smoking, she would be disappointed. Her expectations for me as her son were not met.

Our view of God as a friend can lead to this disappointed view of God too. If every week my friends and I play trivia on Tuesday night, it becomes an expectation of the friends in the group that I will go play trivia with them every Tuesday. At that point, if I bail on trivia, they could be disappointed with me. If I’ve never gone to trivia with them before, and hanging out with them every week is not an expectation, then how could they be disappointed?

Disappointment is a result of unmet expectations.

If we believe God is an omniscient, omnipotent being who is continually creating the universe, it seems unlikely to me that God would be anything less than fully aware of our past, current, and future pitfalls. Does God expect that we will be perfect or close to perfect? Does God even expect that we will give our best effort?

When I truly think about the bigness of God, quippy phrases like “Jesus expects our best” don’t hold up. It may make for a best selling keychain at LifeWay, but upon further examination, where do we even get that? An easy response would be to point me towards literally any of the commands of Jesus from the Sermon on the Mount. Good. But have you ever told someone to do something and not expected them to do it? Have you ever pointed someone in the right direction knowing it’s in their best interest, and still expected them to go their own way? I have, and I would argue that this is could be how Jesus felt.

Throughout the stories of Jesus that we have in the Bible, I have a hard time finding one that describes Jesus as disappointed. (Disclaimer: I could be wrong, and that’s the fun part about putting stuff on the internet.) However, I find a lot of times when people come to Jesus with expectations and leave disappointed. When the rich young ruler comes to Jesus explaining his goodness, expecting a warm embrace and pat on the back, Jesus asks for what he knows the man won’t give, obedience at the cost of his stuff. The man left disappointed. The religious leaders often came to Jesus with questions expecting to be affirmed as correct or to entangle Jesus, but they always left disappointed or even angry.

I would argue that disappointment is much more a human emotion that we feel towards God than the way God feels towards us. God lavishes love and grace upon us expecting nothing in return. No conditions. We don’t really get that because even in the purest forms of human connection, we expect some form of reciprocation. Even the best, most loving parents feel hurt when their children turn their backs on them. God is simply not this way.

 

To explain what God’s Kingdom and grace is like, Jesus tells the story of a younger brother who didn’t want to wait till his dad died to get his stuff and get on with it. This son goes to his dad and essentially says, “I want your stuff now, I don’t want to wait.” Storyteller Jesus doesn’t then say, “And the father was disappointed.” The father does what his son asks and gives him his share, and the younger son left. The father gave of his love and treasures with no conditions. While the younger son is off burning the candle at both ends, we don’t hear that the father is up all night weeping. Instead, what we see is a father who is waiting for his son to come home. When the younger son returns home, he expects his dad to be mad, or at least disappointed, but instead what he finds when he gets home is a warm embrace and a party. The only character in the story that is disappointed is the older brother, who didn’t understand the bigness of his dad’s love.

We are loved by God without conditions. Immense, pure love, way bigger and better than we love our girlfriends or our kids. Understanding that God’s immaculate love is unphased by our screw-ups or straight up screw-overs is going to help us let go of a whole lot of shame. Believing that we’ve in some way let down the Creator of the universe is a terribly shame-inducing way to live. And shame wrecks relationship. Our fear of disappointing God has for too long kept us from total communion with God and each other. When we feel convicted that we’re in the wrong, believing that God is disappointed keeps us from running home instead of pushing us to running home faster.

When we’ve taken God’s good things and twisted them for our own devices, God isn’t mad or disappointed, God just wants us home. A warm embrace and a party awaits.

Faith and Culture

boys will be…

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October 7th, 2016

It was a Friday evening, and I was in a hotel room in Atlanta. I had made the trip from Nashville to Atlanta to interview for a youth ministry position at a church there. It was a Friday night,  and it turned out to be one of those times when you don’t remember where you were because something significant happened specifically to you; you remember where you were because something happened out in the world and it seemed eternally significant. After meeting some of the church leadership for dinner, I had returned to my hotel room and turned on the radio coverage of the Chicago Cubs divisional round playoff game against the San Francisco Giants. Then, as had become a habit during the months leading up to that night, I turned on the news to see what was happening with the upcoming election. What I found was more than I had bargained for.

That night the Washington Post had released an Access Hollywood tape of a conversation between soon-to-be-President Donald Trump and television personality Billy Bush from about 10 years prior. They were on a bus pulling into where Trump would be making a cameo on a soap opera that day. The conversation that we all overheard seemed to stop the nation for a night. At one point towards the beginning of the footage, Donald Trump is telling Bush about a failed sexual conquest:

Trump: I moved on her, actually. You know, she was down on Palm Beach. I moved on her, and I failed. I’ll admit it.

Unknown: Whoa.

Trump: I did try and f*** her. She was married.

Unknown: That’s huge news.

Trump: No, no, Nancy. No, this was [unintelligible] — and I moved on her very heavily. In fact, I took her out furniture shopping.

She wanted to get some furniture. I said, “I’ll show you where they have some nice furniture.” I took her out furniture —

I moved on her like a b****. But I couldn’t get there. And she was married. Then all of a sudden I see her, she’s now got the big phony t**s and everything. She’s totally changed her look.

This was plenty bad, but it gets worse. The listeners can hear the laughter of Bush in the background. Fueled by the affirmation, Trump continues when they see Actress Arianne Zucker:

Trump: Yeah, that’s her. With the gold. I better use some Tic Tacs just in case I start kissing her. You know, I’m automatically attracted to beautiful — I just start kissing them. It’s like a magnet. Just kiss. I don’t even wait. And when you’re a star, they let you do it. You can do anything.

Bush: Whatever you want.

Trump: Grab ’em by the p****. You can do anything.

As much as I didn’t want Trump to be elected and had been hoping that something – anything – would derail his campaign, those words made me sick to my stomach. My intestines tightened and my face felt flushed.

I clicked from news channel to news channel, and everybody was covering it. Showing the video. Using the p-word on TV. Somehow, even this was becoming a partisan issue. The Trump campaign and surrogates had already begun to spin this potential deathblow as merely Locker Room Talk. There were men and women alike claiming that this was simply boys being boys. Saying that this type of conversation was normal.

Thinking that this was surely something that people would be unequivocally condemning on social media, I opened up Facebook. Many of my friends had shared articles detailing what the tape revealed, most saying that this was unacceptable behavior from someone wanting to be the President of the United States. But what I found under their posts in the comments section was appalling. So many people replying things like this real comment thread from a friend’s post:

“How about supporting a liar like Hilliary.”

“Trump has his issues bit I’d rather support him than the alternative”

“I’ve heard all kinds of “locker room talk” but I will never stand for a women who trashed other women that were raped and abused in the White House..she admits she is different when public compared to when she is private..laughed when she got a man off with 2 months in jail for raping a 12 yr old girl..the list goes on and on..y’all are beyond insane if you don’t vote for trump..BELIEVE ME”

“Preach it Jeff!!!! I am way more concerned with Kill-liar-y’s actions than something Trump simply said over 10 years ago!!!!”

I was shocked. This wasn’t about the other candidate, who happened to be a woman. It was about human decency and the level of morality we expect from men in our society. I didn’t know what to do, but I felt like I needed to say something. People needed to speak up in reasonable and just ways. So I commented back in the thread:

Jeff, what locker rooms have you been hanging out in? I played sports in high school and spent a ton of time in college dorms with groups of guys, and never did I hear the graphic vulgarity that Donald Trump used while describing his sexual exploitations of women in the video. This “boys will be boys” attitude is the reason that so many are sexually assaulted every single day in our country. My heart breaks for our society that a man like this is in contention for the highest office in our country.

I don’t know what I expected to happen next. Maybe I had hoped that I would change everyone’s mind. Maybe I just hoped that I would “win” this Facebook bout with a stranger. Another guy commented back:

Michael Clinger, don’t even know you, this post just stumbled along my feed but give me a break man. Denying that you never heard vulgarity like that and you are a grown man is simply blasphemy.

For some reason, I remember this hitting me harder than listening to the words on the tape. It hit me harder than seeing people on TV defend Trump’s words. I had entered into a gunfight with only a knife. He was implying that either I wasn’t a man or that I had no integrity. Neither were true. Both hurt.

And there alone in my hotel room with no one to talk to, I cried.

 

You know the rest of the story. Donald Trump went on to win the 2016 Election in a sizable Electoral College victory. Despite being investigated for the last two years, it has been reported that Donald Trump himself was most likely unaware of any Russian interference and did not personally collude with a foreign agent to steal the 2016 Election.

Still the most shocking statistic to me: 81% of white Evangelicals voted for President Trump.

 

So how does someone get to the point where they will talk that way with another television personality? Or for regular folks like me, how does a man get to the point where they will talk in such a demeaning way? And then when that happens, how has our society gotten to a place where that is seen as normal?

Boys will be boys.

A statement commonly made around groups of boys and men of all ages from the womb to the tomb. I don’t know where this phrase originated, but when used it means that when groups of boys are together, they often do things that are reckless, adventurous, and mischievous, and that’s just how it is. We use the same phrase when a 8-year-old accidentally throws a baseball bat into the screen door, and when a pair of drunk 40-year-old men verbally assault an 18-year-old college basketball player. When the older 6-year-old brother cuts the hair of his 3-year-old little brother, and when a group of fraternity brothers throw a pledge into the trunk of their car and leave him there for hours.

Girls misbehavior is not so easily excused with a quippy phrase. Girls will be girls does not apply when two women get into a verbal altercation at a bar. It is not an excuse when two high school girls get caught peeing on their softball teammates mouthpiece.

Parents spend most of their lives warning their daughters about boys. Don’t be alone with a boy. Don’t talk to strange men. Don’t be out alone. Don’t be out late at night. Don’t wear that dress. Don’t talk that way. Don’t lean in for the kiss. Say no. Say no. Say no.

For all of the time that we spend warning our daughters about boys, we spend almost no time teaching our sons not to be the boys that daughters have to be warned about. We don’t teach boys that it’s not ok to refer to women as hoes or b*tches. It’s not ok to talk to your guy friends about women’s breasts and butts and what you’d like to do with them. It’s not ok to stand or sit too close to a girl that you don’t know. It’s not ok to ask personal questions to girls that you don’t know or just met. It’s not ok to touch girls that you don’t know, or even most girls that you do know. It’s not ok to whisper in the ear of a girl that you don’t know. It’s not ok to approach a girl that you don’t know who is by herself and looks distressed. It’s not ok to comment on a girl’s appearance in passing. It’s not ok to ask a girl in passing if she has a boyfriend or to ask what she’s doing later. It is not ok. That’s a lot, but I could go on.

And if you think that those guidelines are too much, or you think “How then can I even talk to women?” Just don’t. They’ll be ok, likely even better off.

A big reason that we have the amount of rape, sexual assault, and sexual harassment that we do is because we let too many of these seemingly small things slide. No one just wakes up one morning as a sexual predator. If we don’t address these issues as men to other men, nothing will change. 

 

There’s a couple more elements of the Access Hollywood Tape that are important to note, not because they are the most incendiary or the most clearly vile, but because they are the types of things that we don’t often callout or even notice. Understanding their problematic nature may go a long way.

When Donald Trump and Billy Bush get off of the bus, they are greeted by actress Arianne Zucker. After a brief hello and introduction, this is what happens:

Bush: How about a little hug for the Donald? He just got off the bus.

Zucker: Would you like a little hug, darling? [Zucker hugs Trump]

Trump: O.K., absolutely. Melania said this was O.K.

Bush: How about a little hug for the Bushy? I just got off the bus. [Zucker hugs Bush]

Zucker: Bushy, Bushy.

It’s a strange interaction to read through no doubt, and even if you watch it, it may seem rather harmless, but there is something underlying that needs to be spoken about. Neither Trump nor Bush has met Zucker before. These are strangers. When Bush asks for hugs for Trump and himself, it’s not a true ask. There’s power dynamics at play here, Bush and Trump with the clear leverage. “How about a little hug for the Donald?” is said in a way that you would tell a little girl to hug her uncle. Here’s the thing:

Women should not be treated in this way. At least in modern society, we’re starting to empower women to say no and teaching our little girls that their body is theirs and no one else’s, but what we’re not doing is teaching boys that it’s not ok to approach girls in that way. We’re teaching girls not to take it, but we’re not teaching boys not to make those attempts.

Women and their bodies are not objects for the enjoyment of others. Though no one would come out and say the contrary (hopefully no one would), we send that message implicitly as we raise our girls. When we pick our 4-year-old girl up from preschool and see that she’s playing with a boy, we ask “Is that your boyfriend?” As if she being just friends with the boy isn’t pure and good the way it is. We imply this when we say to our aging daughters, “How about a hug for Uncle Jon?” We send this message in churches when we tell our teen girls that they need to save their bodies for their future husbands. We have to be aware of the implicit messaging that is happening.

Men, clearly there are prohibitions for the ways in which we approach women that we don’t know, but there should also be prohibitions for the ways we approach women that we do know. At the end of the day, it doesn’t matter if you’re her teacher, pastor, or relative, there are still ways that you should not initiate physical contact with a woman. If she wants to hug you, she will come in for a hug. We have turned our heads and looked the other way too many times when pastors or family members abuse their power and position. 

 

Here’s the last thing on the tape that I’ll talk about. Talk of sexual conquests and objectification do not happen in a vacuum. As a man who has lived a mere 25 years on this earth, I have both heard and said things that I regret about women in front of other men. It’s not uncommon for men, but especially for teenage boys, to speak about women in ways that are alarming. Locker room talk certainly exists, though very rarely to the graphic degree displayed on the Access Hollywood tape. In every situation regarding this kind of interaction, there are two types of people, the talker, and the enabler. On the tape, you should be able to figure out that Trump is the talker, and Bush is the enabler. In my life, I have been both, and I would assume that most men have. Both positions are born out of personal insecurities and a lack of conviction. Neither are acceptable.

Three months ago, I was with some friends (men and women), and we were heading to our cars in a parking lot in Brentwood. For those not familiar with Nashville suburbs, most would refer to Brentwood as a “good part of town.” I think to most people, “good part of town” just means bigger houses and whiter people. We stopped to talk for a minute, and we were laughing as two boys aged 16 or 17 were walking past us to their car. One of the boys said to our group, specifically the girls, “B*****s always be playing, with your heart and with your d***.” One of the girls I was with responded and the boys proceeded to yell back as they drove away. I was honestly shocked. As far as fight, flight, or freeze is concerned, I was in full freeze mode. Once again, my intestines felt like they had tightened up and my face felt flushed. I legitimately was having a hard time processing what I was feeling or thinking about it. My surprise regarding the situation pointed to my naïvety. The girls weren’t as shocked. They had experienced moments like that before.

As I reflect on that experience, I think about how it was just one of the two boys doing the talking. The other was there, laughing along as if it were the funniest thing ever. And that’s most of us men, most of the time. For too long we have sat on the sidelines and shamefully chuckled as we have let our peers believe that what they do and say is not only ok, but it is valuable. And I certainly know the tension of the moment. There are too many times to count in my life in which I didn’t speak up. Too many times where I was intimidated at the thought of being ousted from a group. But enough is enough. We have to start taking one for the team. Men, let’s call each other to a higher standard. It will be awkward and difficult, but what’s worth doing that isn’t hard?

There is a difference in acknowledging that conversations amongst men in which women are objectified are normal, and in viewing them as an acceptable aspect of life. In 2016, American Evangelical Christians showed that culturally, we are the enabler. As enablers, we don’t really believe that what is being done is right, but we have counted the cost of standing up to the talker, and we’ve decided that it’s not worth it. It’s easier to laugh along at what’s being said than it is to point out the talker for what he is.

We have failed in holding each other to a standard of morality and human decency. Churches have failed in extinguishing the fires of misogyny and objectification and, in many cases, have stoked them. More than that, American churches have for too long enabled male leaders to dodge the issues behind the facade of not wanting to be “political.” The “moral majority” that arose during the 20th century has become the immoral majority. Christians, we need to be speaking honestly about what we will no longer be standing for. It is time to rise up and cast aside our prejudices and broken systems. Even if that means blowing it up and starting over.

It’s easy to see these issues as too big to tackle, but the thing about time is that we can make major progress in just one generation. Let’s not hand down the same baggage to our kids that we were dealt. We have to start teaching boys from an early age that they need to respect the girls in their lives as equals, and that they need to stand up to other boys when they are speaking negatively or harmfully to or about girls. What our young boys hear now will shape who they become. Let’s stop shrugging off misogyny and objectification as “boys being boys” or as “locker room talk.” No more excuses, let’s be better.

Faith, Uncategorized

reflecting in the new year

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A new year is upon us. I feel fairly indifferent about it all. I think this is the first time in my life where I’m not excited to jump into another stage. 2018 was exactly what it was: a year. There were good days, bad days, and a lot of eh days. I learned a lot, and I grew a lot in 2018. Don’t get me wrong, I made some mistakes along the way, but that’s how we learn. I made some beautiful friends in the last year. Some days I was so content that I just wished those days would stretch on forever. Some days I was so discontent that I almost dropped everything and wanted start over in something else. Throughout all the wins and losses, the year was made special by those with whom I spent it. And I’m thankful for that.

Thinking about this blog and especially it’s contents in 2018, I am fairly happy with what I wrote and how I wrote it. Oftentimes, I’m writing as much to encourage myself to use my voice as I am to share my voice with others. Many people, maybe even most, find it more difficult to speak openly to flaws of the existing social systems than they do to affect change in their own hearts. I have the opposite problem. For me, to call on churches, governments, and others to do the right thing is much easier than acknowledging, even privately, the corners of my personhood that are not seeking justice and loving mercy.

I struggle with introspection. Strangely enough, I’m more self-reflective when I’m in the presence of others than when I’m by myself. Being self-reflective in public moments at least gives me something to talk about. I’m largely afraid of being found out to be who I most fear that I am: a fraud.

My family and close friends would be able to identify me as an often fairly disagreeable person. I remember growing up my mom would say things to me like, “If I said the sky was blue, you would say it’s not.” And she was right. My parents often referred to me affectionately as a Smart Alec, which turns out to just be the church appropriate way of calling somebody a smartass. I don’t really know at what age I became someone looking to poke holes in the rulings of authority figures, but by high school, I was in full bloom. I was never in trouble, ever, but that doesn’t mean that I was always easy to get along with. Youth pastors would be able to identify my high school self as that student who could be a great leader, but could also be a pain when they wanted to be. I quickly learned that there was always a way to pretty blatantly disobey while making it look like I had good motives. One time in high school a few of my friends and I walked out of the planned youth group events to have our own unsanctioned small group. As I made sure to tell my mom later, “We had our Bibles with us and everything,”

Of course I didn’t then have the self-awareness to understand that my desire to undermine authority figures was born out of my own insecurities. I know that now, so I have less of an excuse. I was insecure that I wouldn’t be known as smart, funny, or cool, but instead I was insecure that I would be simply known. Known to be only me, and I didn’t think that would be enough. On my worst days now, that scared teen still comes through.

What I didn’t know then was that who I am, behind the bluster and pseudo confidence, is enough. I still forget that sometimes. I often have to remind myself that I don’t have to earn my worth or have my worth voted on and judged by a panel of my peers. Any affirmation that I receive when I’m overcompensating doesn’t last in my heart because it’s not really affirmation of me, it’s affirmation of the character that I play. I need to remember that it’s ok to not know what to do and ask for help. I don’t have to have all the answers, and I don’t have to give all the answers to people who didn’t ask me what the answers were in the first place.

In the Bible in the book of Genesis, God comes to this guy Jacob in the night and God wrestles with him for hours. Eventually God knocks Jacob’s hip out of place, but Jacob doesn’t disengage, saying, “I won’t let go until you bless me!” So God blesses Jacob and changes his name to Israel, which means One who wrestles with God. Author Annie F. Downs takes this away from the story: God gives us a limp and a blessing. Our limps and our blessings are tied together, and we can’t have one without the other. For me this looks like being willing to address the brokenness and injustice of our systems (blessing) but at the same time struggling to address the brokenness and injustice inside of myself (limp). Or as Jesus might say, I am quick to attend to the speck in the eyes of others, but slow to attend to the log in my own.

The more conscious we are of our limps, the more we’re able to live into our blessings. I am enough, not because of what I’ve done but because of who I am: a person. And so are you. We don’t have to keep measuring ourselves against each other because God knows us and welcomes us without a pecking order.

 

So it’s a new year. And with this blog and my different platforms in 2019, I hope to put forth more introspective and vulnerable content like this. As I wrap this up, I’m aware that this isn’t the most eloquent thing I’ve ever written, but it is honest, and that’s where I need to be.

Thanks for reading!

-MC

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An excerpt from Martin Luther King, Jr.’s address at the Fourth Annual Institute on Nonviolence and Social Change at Bethel Baptist Church.

December 3rd, 1959

There is great need for positive leadership from the moderates of the white South in this tense period of transition. Unfortunately today, the leadership of the white South is by and large in the hands of close-minded extremists. These persons gain prominence and power by the dissemination of false ideas, and by appealing to the deepest fears and hates within the human mind. But they do not speak for the South; of that I am convinced.

There are in the white South millions of people of goodwill whose voices are yet unheard, whose course is yet unclear, and whose courageous acts are yet unseen. Such persons are in Montgomery today. These persons are often silent today because of fear of social, political, and economic reprisals. In the name of God, in the interest of human dignity, and for the cause of democracy, I appeal to these white brothers to gird their courage, to speak out, to offer the leadership that is needed. Here in Montgomery we are seeking to improve the whole community, and we call upon the whites to help us. Our little message to the white community is simply this: We who call upon you are not so-called outside agitators. We are your Negro brothers whose sweat and blood has {have} also built Dixie. We yearn for brotherhood and respect and want to join hands with you to build a freer, happier land for all. If you fail to act now, history will have to record that the greatest tragedy of this period of social transition was not the strident clamor of the bad people, but the appalling silence of the good people.

Faith and Culture, Uncategorized

Kingdom Manhood – Believing Women

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But very early on Sunday morning the women went to the tomb, taking the spices they had prepared. 2 They found that the stone had been rolled away from the entrance. 3 So they went in, but they didn’t find the body of the Lord Jesus. 4 As they stood there puzzled, two men suddenly appeared to them, clothed in dazzling robes.

5 The women were terrified and bowed with their faces to the ground. Then the men asked, “Why are you looking among the dead for someone who is alive? 6 He isn’t here! He is risen from the dead! Remember what he told you back in Galilee, 7 that the Son of Man must be betrayed into the hands of sinful men and be crucified, and that he would rise again on the third day.”

8 Then they remembered that he had said this. 9 So they rushed back from the tomb to tell his eleven disciples—and everyone else—what had happened. 10 It was Mary Magdalene, Joanna, Mary the mother of James, and several other women who told the apostles what had happened. 11 But the story sounded like nonsense to the men, so they didn’t believe it. 12 However, Peter jumped up and ran to the tomb to look. Stooping, he peered in and saw the empty linen wrappings; then he went home again, wondering what had happened.

Luke 24:1-12

 

Strange how God used women to share the most significant news in the history of the world. You would think God would get a man to do that, maybe a well-educated and wealthy one at that. If God had gotten a high ranking Roman official or a Jewish religious leader, perhaps that would be a more credible witness. Because this is kind of a one-time thing, you’d think God would want to put this truth in the hands of someone believable, someone whose voice mattered.

Not only did God choose a group of women, God chose some really unreliable sources. One of the women, Mary Magdalene, is believed to have had 7 demons exorcized in her life. One would think that your credibility really takes a hit after the first demon, let alone the 7th. Then one of the other women mentioned is Mary, the mother of James. Many believe her to be related to Jesus, if not Jesus’ own mother, so she certainly wouldn’t be an unbiased, credible witness. My mom is definitely not an objective third party towards me. We don’t know much about Joanna, but she’s believed by many today to also have been cured of evil spirits. So to put it plainly, one could look at the witnesses to the empty tomb and find them to be completely unbelievable.

Based on our current cultural events, it should be a surprise to no one that the men didn’t believe her. Luke tells us that their story sounded like nonsense to the men. 10 out of the 11 men didn’t even think the women had enough credibility to investigate. 1 out of 11 was at least intrigued enough to go check out their claims.

All people who believe in a physical resurrection of the Christ, are staking their belief in the original testimony of a group of highly emotional, frantic women with some serious credibility issues. To claim to be a follower of the resurrected Jesus is to base your whole faith on a he-said-she-said from 2000 years ago. No evidence, just testimony.

 

OK, so by now you probably know where this is going. If any man could see the importance of believing a woman, how could a Christian man not?

To say that a woman’s voice is in any way less credible or significant than a that of a man is counter to the good news of Christ. I know a lot of people post things on social media (on my feeds at least) about how this or that is a threat to the gospel, and for that reason, I am hesitant to use that phrase, but the good news – gospel – of the Kingdom of God is that the old has gone and the new has come. Every voice that has been downgraded or marginalized is no longer to be cast aside in the new Kingdom brought on by Jesus’ defeat of sin and death.

In this new Kingdom that we are to be living out, people of every nation, gender, and socio-economic group have equal worth and value, not because of what they’ve accomplished, what family they were born into, or what school they attended, but because they are created in the Image of God. We all stand on equal footing as people who are 100% not worthy outside of Christ and 100% worthy because of Christ.

It’s utterly ridiculous that Believe Women has become a seemingly partisan rallying cry in our overly dichotomous world. Similar to Black Lives Matter, there are those who point to someone using this phrase as being divisive. There should be nothing less divisive in our churches than stating that a people group’s life or voice has worth. At some point, we have to ask ourselves where our loyalties lie. Do we want to be devoted followers of Jesus or do we want to be devoted members of a political party? In Matthew 6, Jesus teaches that a person cannot have two masters. Naturally, we will favor one over the other. Whether our master is money, a flag, the military, a political party, or a relationship, we have to choose between being beholden to that worldly thing or living into the Kingdom of God.

Men, we have to believe women. Not because they are somebody’s sister or mother or daughter, but because they are human beings. Women are not too emotional or the weaker partner designed for purely secondary roles, they are significant embodiments of the Image of God in our world and are telling the truth. To view women as more manipulative or less credible than men is to ascribe to the old way of thinking before Christ. We can choose to hold up the systems and powers of an unredeemed world, or we can be active workers in the new creation of God that has already begun.

Time and time again in the Bible, Jesus values the people with whom he interacts, not because of who they are or what they’ve accomplished; Jesus values people because they are simply that: people. 

How would our world look different if we woke up each day and chose to not write people off? If everyone had a chance to be heard by those in power, even when it slowed us down or forced us to change our agenda, our world would be better.

Christian men, brothers, we stake our faith in the resurrection of Jesus on a group of women’s unproven frantic testimony from 2000 years ago. To do anything less than believe the women in our lives and world today is beyond backwards, illogical, and misogynistic. Let’s always be the 1 out of the 11 who trusts the source and looks to find out more. We have the power to live into God’s Kingdom here and now, let’s do that.

 

 

Faith, Faith and Culture

privilege of walking

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I wrote the following essay a few months ago (June 5th, 2018). I don’t know why I didn’t share it then. I guess I was a little ashamed that I’m not further along with some issues than I am. I think I was also a little scared. Scared that my life may not live up to the ideas that I proclaim myself to seek out. I’m a person, and I don’t always walk the walk as well as I talk the talk. Maybe you can relate to that.

I think this afternoon, I needed to read this again. A couple weeks ago, a young black man, Botham Shem Jean, was killed in his apartment in Dallas by a police officer. For some reason, I felt this one more than a lot of other similar shootings. It could be that I know people who are close to the situation, and it could be that Botham was about my age, went to a school of the same faith tradition as me, and was heavily involved in his University’s community and his church family, much like I am. Maybe it was the Spirit of God giving me a feeling of conviction.

I have put off saying much publicly about my feelings regarding the painful situation in Dallas. I didn’t want anyone to feel as though I was trying to jump in on something that wasn’t mine to jump in on, and I hope that this isn’t perceived that way.

I hope that I am not the only one that this injustice has awakened.

 

 

Tonight I went for a walk through my neighborhood.

I started going on walks through my neighborhood last summer due to some stress and a consistent need to clear my head.  I have found that these walks have given me space to talk to God, or to be more clear, talk to myself about myself in front of God.  Yeah, I talk to myself often.  Those who have ever lived with me or walked in front of me can probably attest to that.  I don’t think I have a clinical disorder, maybe it’s just more that I really like to hear myself speak.  Either way as I walk the neighborhood, a lot of my thoughts just come out.  They come out free and unedited.  Sometimes as I walk, I learn that I think and feel things that I didn’t previously know that I thought and felt.

It’s a beautiful evening out in Nashville tonight.  The weather is perfect, and a lot of people have chosen to spend it on their front porch, playing with their dog, or going for a walk themselves.  As I passed other people, we exchanged a smile and a wave, sometimes a hello.  People have always seemed to be pretty receptive to me right off the bat.  Maybe it’s my face or my approachable, non-threatening body shape, who knows.  As my thoughts wandered out of my head tonight, I kept coming back to one thing in particular:  how might this walk be different if I weren’t white?

…

I remember a time before I was white.  In elementary school, most of my friends at school weren’t white, and they never told me that I was.  We ate lunch together, played together at recess, and participated in a school percussion group together.  On Valentine’s Day I gave everyone a Spiderman valentine.  I got a bunch of different valentines too.  I was good at a lot of things, mostly school stuff.  I won a bunch of awards for the school’s core virtues: responsibility, respect, trustworthiness, citizenship.  I was really good at math and spelling.  I don’t know that my self esteem has ever been higher than it was in elementary school.

I’m not really sure at what age or point in my life it clicked that I was white and some people weren’t.  Somewhere in middle school probably.  I think I’ve subconsciously blocked out most of middle school.  I had to go to a new school in 5th grade.  A private, Christian one at that.  People at my new school had more money than people at my old school.  I guess no one ever really feels like they fit in when they’re in middle school, but I definitely felt like a fish out of water.  The idea of race started to creep in.  As I got older, I noticed that the few black kids at school were all friends with each other.  I heard a joke here, told it there.  It doesn’t take long before that becomes the new normal.

In high school, I still didn’t realize that I was white.  Intellectually I did, but I didn’t have any grasp whatsoever on the weight of what it means to be white.  Being white was normal.  If I was telling a story about one of my white friends, they were never “my white friend,” they were just my friend.  If I was telling a story about one of my few non-white friends, they were “my black friend” or “my hispanic friend.”  I spent hours upon hours in parking lots in high school just talking with my other white friends.  I don’t remember ever getting a sideways glance.  One time in particular, after church, my white youth group friends and I went to Wendy’s.  I maybe ordered a frosty, if that.  We stayed at a table at Wendy’s until they closed for the night.  Then we went out in the parking lot and talked for another couple hours.  Those times are some of my fondest memories from high school, just sitting in public places until late at night, talking and joking with my youth group friends.  Never one time did I even have a thought of “could we do this if we weren’t white?”

I think the Trayvon Martin tragedy was the first time I ever thought that perhaps someone might be viewed differently than me because they aren’t white.  I remember seeing LeBron and the rest of the Miami Heat wearing hoodies.  I knew it was related to the Trayvon Martin story, but I didn’t really feel it.  I remember being a 20-year-old Junior in college at my predominantly white, private Christian university here in Nashville and seeing the events in Ferguson on the news after the Michael Brown shooting.  I remember being in my dorm room with my friend Cedric as we watched on CNN.  In that moment, I knew deep down in my gut that something wasn’t right.  I remember within a week or two of that memory, I went with a group of friends to Nashville’s Live On The Green when, during the show, protesters made their way to the front with signs chanting “NO JUSTICE, NO PEACE.”  At that time I thought, “Why are they protesting here and now and in this way?  Couldn’t more be accomplished by sitting down and having a civilized conversation?”

Over the next couple years, the back end of college, I grew a lot.  As more of these cases of policing came to light, I learned about implicit racial bias.  In short, implicit bias is you feeling different about seeing someone that looks like me (white, 24-year-old man) walking through your neighborhood wearing a hoodie at night than you would feel about seeing a black 24-year-old man wearing a hoodie walking through your neighborhood at night.  Or to give another example: someone might feel different about 5 black young men hanging out in a parking lot than they would 5 white young men.  I learned that everyone in the world, based on their life experience, has some sort of implicit bias.  Perhaps most importantly, I learned that I have implicit bias.  I don’t say that everyone has implicit bias to communicate that there’s nothing that we can do about it, I communicate that as a way of saying that I believe coming to grips with our implicit biases is a key beginning step in our growth.

I also learned towards the end of school that once the person or people in power are dictating how someone else chooses to express themselves in protest, it is no longer a protest.  Protests are designed to disrupt in order to get someone’s attention.  The reason people feel the need to protest is not to ruin my concert or an NFL game, often a reason that people protest is because they were not invited to the conversation and feel unheard.  So when we are upset by someone’s protest, perhaps we should invite them to the table, not write them off.

By the end of college, I felt much more of the weight of what it means to be white.  So much so that I had begun to dissociate with my whiteness.  I began to feel a sense of shame about what it means to be white in America.  I felt overwhelmed with the history of how white people in our country have oppressed black and brown bodies.  First with colonization and slavery, then with Jim Crow, and now with mass incarceration.  When confronted with the dark realities of U.S. history, it’s hard to not want to run and hide.  Being naïve is one thing, but once we have faced the reality of systemic oppression throughout our history, what we absolutely cannot do is shrug it off.

Only in the last year have I begun to realize that being ashamed of being white is not a helpful posture either.  To be white and socially conscious, I believe we have to understand our privilege.  The more I think about my life, my history, and my current day-to-day dealings, the more I see myself benefitting from white privilege.  To my white friends, me claiming that white privilege exists in our culture today is not me saying that white people do not work for what they have.  I would go more in depth on the realities of implicit bias, systemic oppression, and white privilege, but that would take many more words.  Furthermore, many more learned men and women writers, authors, and speakers have tackled these issues in great depth, and I would much rather leave you to read their work.

So now I find myself in a position where I ask myself the question: As a white man, how do I use the platforms that I’m given?

The conclusion that I am coming to is this: When possible, use my seat at the table to bring diversity to the table, even if this means giving up my seat.

Granted, I’m 24.  I’m young, and I have a lot of growing up to do still.  Perhaps in a few years I’ll look back at this time and think, “Wow I was young and dumb.”  The great thing about writing for me is that later I get to look back and see where I’ve come from.  I don’t know if anyone will ever read this, but I hope that if you do, you will grant me some grace because I know I probably said some things wrong.  More than that, I hope reading this may propel you to growth.  We all have room to grow, a next step to take, a new conversation to start.  Me included. Scratch that, especially me.

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Kingdom Manhood – Image

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So last week, I did some writing on a view of what it means to be a man, and I called it Kingdom Manhood. The more that I think about this masculinity conversation, the more I am convinced that what we–men especially–believe manhood to be, deeply informs the way that we perceive our worth, relationships, and life’s direction.

Thinking back on my upbringing, I keep coming back to this idea that being a man was about being put-together. I guess what I mean by put-together is not having need. Being a man was about having a job that could not only support myself, but could also support a family. I think I overheard a lot growing up from church and media that being the man of the house was about meeting the financial needs of others in order to meet the physical needs of others. There was a notion that a man works, and a man who doesn’t work doesn’t eat. Men should pull themselves up by their own bootstraps, by their own merit.

Manhood was also about not having to ask questions. Whether it was knowing how to literally get from point A to point B or knowing how to have an important conversation with a coworker, I thought men shouldn’t have to ask questions because being a man is about being the person who has the answers, not asks the questions.

And being a man also seemed to be about not having emotional need. Man up was a phrase that I commonly used in response (in my head or with my words) to others’ tears. I thought men didn’t cry because men were supposed to be the strong emotional rock of their family. Men were supposed to keep their emotions under control, and tears are a sign of losing that control. We had what I believed to be an overly emotional preacher at our church for a few years when I was in the youth group. My friends and I would text each other about the odds of tears from the pulpit during church.

Believing that manhood was about not having needs, I got really good at pretending to not have needs. My sophomore year in high school, my grades were in free fall in my chemistry class. I had never had to ask for help in school. To add some inner conflict, my dad is a college chemistry professor. I really didn’t want to ask for his help, but man, did I need it. I had some really awkward and intense moments with my dad that year while refusing to accept and apply his help. I was embarrassed and really didn’t like the extra attention. Eventually, out of desperation, I accepted his help, and I actually got good at it.

I remember many times in my life I cried and really, really, really didn’t want to. It’s one thing to be 13 and cry at my grandfather’s memorial service, but it’s another to be 14 and have multiple tears run down my cheeks at football practice because someone hurt my feelings. My Freshman year at college, I ended up crying for 30 minutes in the dorm bathroom because one of my best friends called me out on something (he was right), and I showed up 20 minutes late for my next class.

During my senior seminar class in college was one of my more healing and vulnerable moments of public tears. We had been talking about something, and I got on one of my hobbyhorses (which it turns out I have several). As I was talking, I got going about this idea of manhood and how it shapes the men in our churches. I felt my voice begin to shake and crack (a scary feeling). As I finished speaking, my face felt full of warmth as I could no longer hold back a tear. I was really embarrassed that I had lost control. For one, I had just cried in front of 20 of my peers. Secondly, I also used the word asshole at one point. Whoops! that’s not for Bible class. It’s funny because no one really knows how to react when a normally uneventful and borderline sleepy class turns into a teary diatribe. After class, a close and trusted friend told me that maybe there was a reason that I felt so passionately… could be a calling thing. I’m thankful for that moment.

Growing up, what I knew of being a man and what I know of being vulnerable were at odds. If people ever found out that I am afraid, worried, or ignorant, what would they think? I need people to be convinced that I am strong, independent, and intelligent. That’s the image I want on display, and that’s the image that I put on display.

To make matters worse, it’s 2018, and we can make anyone in the world think anything about us that we want them to think. Personally, I am very conscious of the image of myself that I am curating on social media. If I want people to think I’m about social justice, I can make them think that. If I want people to think I read my Bible, I can make them think that. If I want people to think that I do fun things, I can make them think that. 90% of people who know me are familiar with the image that I want them to know. Do you have any idea how many things I think or say that don’t make it to Facebook? 99.9%. People love the .1% that we show, and the thing is, we love the .1% that we show too. The problem is, we don’t always love the 99.9% of ourselves that we don’t post, and we’re afraid that others might not love us either.

Since we’re talking about social media, this is relevant. Today, one of my favorite podcasters, Science Mike (Mike McHargue) from The Liturgists and Ask Science Mike tweeted this thread out:

Yesterday, I got so overwhelmed trying to meet up with @WilliamMatt22 in San Francisco that I had a meltdown. I looked distressed enough that a homeless woman stopped screaming at people walking by and asked me if I was ok. Here’s why I want you to know about this:

Society puts a lot of pressure on us to look successful, and to look like we have it together. And many of us pull off that image, even if reality isn’t quite so clean. That expectation means I felt a lot of shame yesterday–I really didn’t like myself at all.

So, the next time you feel like you can’t take it anymore, or you feel like a fraud, or you feel like a failure, I want you to think of me, sobbing on a sidewalk in San Francisco, being comforted by a woman who is absolutely rejected by our society.

It’s not just you.

-@mikemchargue

We all want to be viewed as successful, competent, and strong. We feel awkward and ashamed when we aren’t living up to that. In curating our image to perfection, we have added pressure that we were never meant to bear. We have become so concerned with our own image, that we forget that we are created in God’s image.

I’ve always wanted to be viewed as a man of God, but I think a better way to identify myself is as a child of God. To me (because of cultural baggage), being a man of God implies that I am a provider or that I am measured by what I do. Identifying myself as a child of God is a flip in perspective. As a child of God I am fully dependent on God. What I will eat, what I will wear, and where I will go is dependent on my Father who knows my deep ineptitude and cares for me. To be a child of God is to understand that I am valuable not because of the image I have created for myself, but because of the image that my Father created in me.

As a child of God, it is acceptable to ask all the questions, even the ones that seem insignificant. It’s acceptable to fail, and it’s acceptable to cry. Life is too difficult to go about it pretending to be okay. Men, we are going to have questions, we’re going to fail, and we will lose control of our emotions. Do we want to curate an image of ourselves that has space for vulnerability, or do we want to fall off the wagon when we inevitably don’t live up to the expectations that we have placed on ourselves?

I’m a child of God, and you’re a child of God. Not because we’re competent or successful, but because we are created in the image of God.