To my brief but significant disappointment, I learned yesterday that I cannot take online classes with WTS after all.
Instead, I've pivoted toward pursuing a D.Min. from Liberty U, which is probably the best school for online opportunities (a large percentage of US soldiers get degrees from Liberty online). The nice thing about this program is that intensive courses on campus are required. I believe strongly in the value of the classroom and practicum experience.
I sat with a female soldier today as she wept over the crumbling life of her step-daughter. She has poured lots of time, energy, money and heart into this gal, but apparently for naught as the step-daughter now resides in a prison cell facing felony charges.
There were plenty of fascinating psychological avenues to explore, but the focus on the time was simply spent on distinguishing between matters under this soldier's control and matters that are not. This soldier can do little now to help her step-daughter but pray. But her step-daughter has four kids of her own who will likely now go through a chunk of childhood without their mom.
Thus, the tone of the meeting was mingled with grief and hope. There is a sixth grade girl who will have back surgery in a few weeks. She will be scared and in pain and looking for the hand of her mommy. There will be no hand to grab.
But from even out here, this soldier can extend her hand to her grandchildren and love them from afar until she returns from this deployment. And, as a fellow believer, this soldier can point these children past the shadow of their absentee mom to the unconditional love of the Father in Jesus Christ.
22.8.13
Conviction and Compromise
So, with widely diverging views on the issue of gay "marriage," me and my activist friend have reached three general points of compromise in the civil realm. When I speak of these imperfect compromises, I do so in my role as a citizen of this earthly kingdom, not in my capacity as a minister. These observations reflect my unavoidable engagement with these issues in the military context, and should be construed as such.
1) There is a shared humanity and dignity between advocates on both sides of this issue. This seems like common sense, but in an age of spiteful, sound byte rhetoric and adversarial "culture wars," this shared humanity and dignity if often a casualty in practice, even if upheld in theory. Traditionalists (including orthodox Protestants and Roman Catholics, but not limited to them) do not hate gay people, nor are they bigoted. Bible-believing Christians believe the lifestyle to be sinful; other traditionalists believe it to be a perversion of the natural order. All believe that marriage has a fixed definition that is not subject to the whims of an age. At the same time, many are friends to and family members with people of this sexual preference. They are not hateful. They (we) are called to and (in our own sin-tainted manner) love all unconditionally. The Westboro Baptists are non-Christian mutilators of the faith and are not representative of orthodox Christianity.
At the same time, gay marriage advocates do not pride themselves in being usurpers of language or perverters of the natural order. Many gay men and women genuinely believe that their sexual desire is a firmly-entrenched part of their biological makeup. As such, to critique their desire is to critique them as people (which I think is a result of the collapse of the philosophical distinction between a person's value and his/her function). They also see the pursuit of gay marriage as an equal application of the law, with marriage being regarded as a "right," much in the same vein as speech and bearing arms. Their legal grounding is typically the Loving Supreme Court decision affirming interracial marriage. This movement cannot be reduced to the half-naked, tambourine-clad masses often seen marching in DC, but includes a significant number of well-reasoned individuals who love our country.
2) Civil unions likely would have been an acceptable compromise for the vast majority of the country. The largest concern expressed by gay marriage advocates is the lack of economic liberty for gay couples. I think most Americans are outraged by excessive taxation, double taxation, or perverse forms of taxation. While I favor a bipartisan effort to drastically simplify the tax code, which would large reduce all exceptions, benefits and credits and simply tax a certain portion of everyone's income--the reality is that marriage is currently the gateway to a large number of tax benefits, and thus becomes an enviable goal for those who would like similar tax benefits. This is understandable.
The largest concern expressed by traditionalists is the preservation of a defined institution, which is by nature a compatible biological union that then becomes the platform for propagating a society through procreation. They (rightly) saw that for many gay lobbies, civil unions were a means to a greater end of acquiring the terminology and social standing of marriage. Thus, they opposed civil unions, not wanting to allow this disintegration of a vital civil institution. Hence the passage of the Defense of Marriage Act in conjunction with these debates.
For both sides, civil unions would have appeased the majority. The economic argument would have been decisive for most people. As one who initially opposed civil unions, I regret to think that in preventing access to these economic benefits, I aided the cause of the more fervent minority of the gay lobby that wanted "gay marriage." With the economic argument neutralized, the quest for a politically-imposed orthodoxy on a new form of marriage would've likely lost momentum.
3) Free speech and economic liberty must be jealously guarded. With the repeal of "Don't Ask, Don't Tell," many in the military began to bully traditional marriage advocates with briefs that often implied that one couldn't express their opinion on that matter without repercussions. Free speech was subsequently chilled. It was a bitter bit of irony, in that gay service members felt more free to speak of their sexual preference, but those who believe that it is not in accord with Scripture or nature felt silenced.
At the same time, following a decade long pattern in society at large, Christians and other traditionalists who objected to employing their services in a "gay marriage" have been subsequently persecuted and prosecuted through a system of "anti-discrimination" laws and kangaroo courts. They are forced to either compromise their conscience or be fined out of business and forced from the free market. Again, in another bitter bit of irony, a cause that largely employed the economic liberty argument is diminishing the economic liberty of another group.
My activist friend and I are agreed that free speech and economic liberty must be jealously guarded. He is concerned that businesses don't refuse to serve patrons simply because of their sexual orientation. A point of compromise here would be the distinction between refusing service to gays as people and refusing service to gays in order to avoid participation in the act of "gay marriage." No person qua person should be refused service, but a Christian baker shouldn't be compelled to bake a cake for a sexual orgy or psychic seance, nor should a gay baker be compelled to bake a cake for Christian evangelistic event.
Of course, it's almost impossible to engage this issue without offending people on both sides of the cultural divide, but it's still a worthy enterprise. A pluralistic society will only prevail in freedom and order if dissenting parties within the "city of man" can gather together and compromise. And as a lasting note, the now inevitable cause of gay "marriage" may harm the culture, but it will never harm the Church. The Gospel will remain undiminished unless compromised by heresy or made subservient to cultural causes. And as Christians now work to simply preserve religious liberties in the civil realm, they should also work to engage neighbors--including gays--with the Gospel.
1) There is a shared humanity and dignity between advocates on both sides of this issue. This seems like common sense, but in an age of spiteful, sound byte rhetoric and adversarial "culture wars," this shared humanity and dignity if often a casualty in practice, even if upheld in theory. Traditionalists (including orthodox Protestants and Roman Catholics, but not limited to them) do not hate gay people, nor are they bigoted. Bible-believing Christians believe the lifestyle to be sinful; other traditionalists believe it to be a perversion of the natural order. All believe that marriage has a fixed definition that is not subject to the whims of an age. At the same time, many are friends to and family members with people of this sexual preference. They are not hateful. They (we) are called to and (in our own sin-tainted manner) love all unconditionally. The Westboro Baptists are non-Christian mutilators of the faith and are not representative of orthodox Christianity.
At the same time, gay marriage advocates do not pride themselves in being usurpers of language or perverters of the natural order. Many gay men and women genuinely believe that their sexual desire is a firmly-entrenched part of their biological makeup. As such, to critique their desire is to critique them as people (which I think is a result of the collapse of the philosophical distinction between a person's value and his/her function). They also see the pursuit of gay marriage as an equal application of the law, with marriage being regarded as a "right," much in the same vein as speech and bearing arms. Their legal grounding is typically the Loving Supreme Court decision affirming interracial marriage. This movement cannot be reduced to the half-naked, tambourine-clad masses often seen marching in DC, but includes a significant number of well-reasoned individuals who love our country.
2) Civil unions likely would have been an acceptable compromise for the vast majority of the country. The largest concern expressed by gay marriage advocates is the lack of economic liberty for gay couples. I think most Americans are outraged by excessive taxation, double taxation, or perverse forms of taxation. While I favor a bipartisan effort to drastically simplify the tax code, which would large reduce all exceptions, benefits and credits and simply tax a certain portion of everyone's income--the reality is that marriage is currently the gateway to a large number of tax benefits, and thus becomes an enviable goal for those who would like similar tax benefits. This is understandable.
The largest concern expressed by traditionalists is the preservation of a defined institution, which is by nature a compatible biological union that then becomes the platform for propagating a society through procreation. They (rightly) saw that for many gay lobbies, civil unions were a means to a greater end of acquiring the terminology and social standing of marriage. Thus, they opposed civil unions, not wanting to allow this disintegration of a vital civil institution. Hence the passage of the Defense of Marriage Act in conjunction with these debates.
For both sides, civil unions would have appeased the majority. The economic argument would have been decisive for most people. As one who initially opposed civil unions, I regret to think that in preventing access to these economic benefits, I aided the cause of the more fervent minority of the gay lobby that wanted "gay marriage." With the economic argument neutralized, the quest for a politically-imposed orthodoxy on a new form of marriage would've likely lost momentum.
3) Free speech and economic liberty must be jealously guarded. With the repeal of "Don't Ask, Don't Tell," many in the military began to bully traditional marriage advocates with briefs that often implied that one couldn't express their opinion on that matter without repercussions. Free speech was subsequently chilled. It was a bitter bit of irony, in that gay service members felt more free to speak of their sexual preference, but those who believe that it is not in accord with Scripture or nature felt silenced.
At the same time, following a decade long pattern in society at large, Christians and other traditionalists who objected to employing their services in a "gay marriage" have been subsequently persecuted and prosecuted through a system of "anti-discrimination" laws and kangaroo courts. They are forced to either compromise their conscience or be fined out of business and forced from the free market. Again, in another bitter bit of irony, a cause that largely employed the economic liberty argument is diminishing the economic liberty of another group.
My activist friend and I are agreed that free speech and economic liberty must be jealously guarded. He is concerned that businesses don't refuse to serve patrons simply because of their sexual orientation. A point of compromise here would be the distinction between refusing service to gays as people and refusing service to gays in order to avoid participation in the act of "gay marriage." No person qua person should be refused service, but a Christian baker shouldn't be compelled to bake a cake for a sexual orgy or psychic seance, nor should a gay baker be compelled to bake a cake for Christian evangelistic event.
Of course, it's almost impossible to engage this issue without offending people on both sides of the cultural divide, but it's still a worthy enterprise. A pluralistic society will only prevail in freedom and order if dissenting parties within the "city of man" can gather together and compromise. And as a lasting note, the now inevitable cause of gay "marriage" may harm the culture, but it will never harm the Church. The Gospel will remain undiminished unless compromised by heresy or made subservient to cultural causes. And as Christians now work to simply preserve religious liberties in the civil realm, they should also work to engage neighbors--including gays--with the Gospel.
21.8.13
Words Have Meaning
Perhaps tomorrow I will jump on the proverbial grenade and mention four points of compromise and mutual understanding that I have reached with my gay activist friend.
Today, however, I would like to focus on the unspoken and unappreciated issue that lies behind many of these discussions: the nature of language. Do words have meaning? Here is a recent discussion:
(My activist friend)
(My future chaplain friend)
(Me)
Today, however, I would like to focus on the unspoken and unappreciated issue that lies behind many of these discussions: the nature of language. Do words have meaning? Here is a recent discussion:
(My activist friend)
Chaplain:
After our lunchtime discussion the other day about the
question, "What makes one 'devout'?", I read the two attached
articles and thought they were relevant.
One of the pieces covers an interfaith group of clergy who met at a
Unitarian church in Hawaii to sign a resolution supporting the legalization of
same-sex civil marriage in that state; the other story concerns a Jewish
community center hosting an event devoted to the topic of same-sex civil
marriage.
Two quotes jumped out at me. First, the Hawaii Unitarian minister
expressing his support for same-sex civil marriage: "It's all about
standing on the right side of history [. . .].
We will keep doing it until we're all prayed out"; and second, a
quote from a Jewish leader in the second piece: "We embrace the
opportunity to celebrate the lives of those fighting for equal rights and
gender equality [. . .]. Fighting for
justice is one of the highest Jewish values that there is."
I would not hesitate to describe either of these folks as
"devout," even though each one's concept of religious authority is
certainly quite different from that of a Protestant Christian social
conservative, a doctrinally conservative Roman Catholic, or a doctrinally
conservative Latter-day Saint. Food for
thought! : )
(My future chaplain friend)
Good morning gentlemen,
The word
"devout" is a term that is very relative. What one may consider
devout another may not. Being devoted to one's religion does not inherently
disqualify them from being devoted to their fellow man's equality or civil
liberties. Religious leaders have been historically committed to some of the
most monumental changes in our society. Sadly, however, often time they are
also responsible for some of the most horrific atrocities carried out in
civilization.
Being devout (to
me) means being devoted whole-heartedly to one's God. This means that the
devotion is to the faith and not the doctrine. Obviously, for Christians, faith
is exuded through their everyday actions, but ultimately they recognize that it
is the romance within the heart with God that determines one's level of grace.
People have the
right to serve and worship or not to serve or worship any God they chose.
Religious people who accept that God-given right for all of humanity ultimately
achieve greater effectiveness through their transformational leadership.
(Me)
Greetings, Friends.
I would agree more with [my chaplain friend] in his second paragraph
than in his first (minus, "to me"). A point I will continually make is that
words have concrete, objective meanings. This is the essence of the
multi-millennial debate between realists (those who believe words are anchored
in concrete reality) and nominalists (who believe that words display little
connection to their described correlates). A turtle is not just a turtle
because we call it a turtle. We recognize a distinctive "turtleness"
about him--otherwise, we might call him a dog, but we know a dog to be
something entirely different.
The only reason why "devout" might be
considered relative is because of the linguistic relativism (or nominalist's
revenge) that we see in our culture today. The term might have a more narrow
and broader meaning (as I'll get to in a moment), but it has a meaning. I would
firmly assert, as ever before, that societal and individual discourse is
ultimately rendered impossible by linguistic relativism. If we don't have a commonly
defined vocabulary, then it will be impossible to communicate. Even now, the
deterioration of language means that we must have lengthy discussions like this
simply to define our terms before we can engage in the discussions we intended
from the outset.
Dictionary.com provides the following as the primary
definition of devout: "devoted to divine worship or service; pious;
religious." There are certainly divine and authoritative tones to this
definition. It implies submission and accountability to a transcendent force
beyond oneself. That said, there is then a tertiary definition provided:
"earnest or sincere; hearty." This seems to simply imply commitment.
This gets to the heart of our discussion yesterday. I
wanted to know whether it was appropriate to call an environmentalist, for
example, "devout." Using the broader definition, that person or the
civic-minded Unitarian-Universalist or Reform Jew could be considered devout. But that must be
properly sealed up from "devout" in its more narrow and explicitly
religious sense, where it describes those "devoted to divine worship or
service." Those who live simply according to the dictates of their
conscience or by their own values cannot properly, in the narrow sense, be
called devout.
The same distinction (referring to the same website)
applies to the term "Christian." The primary definition is
"pertaining to, or derived from, Jesus Christ and his teachings." A
follow on definition speaks of "pertaining to...the religion based on the
teachings of Jesus Christ" (i.e. Spain is a "Christian"
country). From the definition, narrowly defined, Spain is by no means a
"Christian" country, but it can claim the broader label for cultural
reasons. Ultimately, we only know of Jesus Christ and His teachings from His Word,
and thus Christianity implies submission to Christ's Lordship through His Word.
Someone who settles for an authority beyond His Word is ultimately guided by
personal autonomy and thus cannot properly claim the term of Christian, except
as a form of describing his/her culture.
We can follow this logic ad nauseum as well. What is
justice? Rights? Equality? Marriage? At the bare minimum, friends, I am
thankful that we can engage in such an important (though admittedly, sometimes
tedious) discussion. This is why our conversations are marked by civility and
understanding, for which I am thankful.
20.8.13
A Day in the Life...
Update: Christina Hoff Summers has been a staunch defender of traditional masculinity and its virtues in recent years, and this article today in Time provides another rare defense: http://ideas.time.com/2013/08/19/school-has-become-too-hostile-to-boys/?iid=ent-main-mostpop2
Before the hustle and bustle of Cross Fit and a lunch with my fellow chaplains and an Afghan general, I enjoyed a relatively quiet morning.
I intended for the morning to be light, as my Tuesday afternoons tend to be heavy with counseling appointments. I plugged my headphones into my laptop, where I spent a couple of hours downloading the Les Miserables soundtrack (from the recent movie). Listening to the soul-stirring music, I continued through my sermon prep work. I translated the Ancient Greek yesterday and spent some time wrestling with the various components. Today, I finished reading a couple of commentaries (I use Hywel Jones, John Calvin, and J.B. Lightfoot), and got to work on an outline. I'm excited to preach the passage (Phil. 1:12-18), as it speaks of the Gospel being advanced in Paul's chains. What a powerful thought!
Since my dear pianist friend went home to Virginia, I am now "covering down" on her responsibilities. So I am also in the process of picking out the songs to be sung next Sunday. I will then print out the guitar chords to each of those songs so that I can make sure I have them down. Later in the week, I will rehearse with two other singers (one of whom is the Baptist chaplain).
Perhaps the thing I enjoy the most about Les Mis is the character of Jean Valjean (played admirably by Hugh Jackman, who has eclipsed my Wolverine typecast of him). Rarely do you have an image of a strong and compassionate man presented in modern entertainment. Most men are either strong simply in their sexuality, or just plain dunces (Simpsons, Family Guy, Everybody Loves Raymond, etc). In most commercials even, it seems men are being coached and corrected by their enlightened female counterparts.
But it is different with this story. The lead male is not the cause (at least direct) of the lead female's suffering, but her deliverer from that suffering. He learns about her child and acts to be her savior as well. His characters speaks of the unspoken virtue of masculine strength and chivalry, touched by the tender traits of compassion and humility (normally only associated with effeminate men today).
So the heroics of Jean Valjean speak to the heart of jaded men. It reminds men of their mighty calling to sacrifice. It reminds men to use their strength in service of the weak, whether it be sweeping the woman or child off the streets, or saving another man in an hour of need.
Men are told in today's society that they no longer be a hero. Until they buck the conventional wisdom, they will remain the villain in these drummed up gender wars.
Before the hustle and bustle of Cross Fit and a lunch with my fellow chaplains and an Afghan general, I enjoyed a relatively quiet morning.
I intended for the morning to be light, as my Tuesday afternoons tend to be heavy with counseling appointments. I plugged my headphones into my laptop, where I spent a couple of hours downloading the Les Miserables soundtrack (from the recent movie). Listening to the soul-stirring music, I continued through my sermon prep work. I translated the Ancient Greek yesterday and spent some time wrestling with the various components. Today, I finished reading a couple of commentaries (I use Hywel Jones, John Calvin, and J.B. Lightfoot), and got to work on an outline. I'm excited to preach the passage (Phil. 1:12-18), as it speaks of the Gospel being advanced in Paul's chains. What a powerful thought!
Since my dear pianist friend went home to Virginia, I am now "covering down" on her responsibilities. So I am also in the process of picking out the songs to be sung next Sunday. I will then print out the guitar chords to each of those songs so that I can make sure I have them down. Later in the week, I will rehearse with two other singers (one of whom is the Baptist chaplain).
Perhaps the thing I enjoy the most about Les Mis is the character of Jean Valjean (played admirably by Hugh Jackman, who has eclipsed my Wolverine typecast of him). Rarely do you have an image of a strong and compassionate man presented in modern entertainment. Most men are either strong simply in their sexuality, or just plain dunces (Simpsons, Family Guy, Everybody Loves Raymond, etc). In most commercials even, it seems men are being coached and corrected by their enlightened female counterparts.
But it is different with this story. The lead male is not the cause (at least direct) of the lead female's suffering, but her deliverer from that suffering. He learns about her child and acts to be her savior as well. His characters speaks of the unspoken virtue of masculine strength and chivalry, touched by the tender traits of compassion and humility (normally only associated with effeminate men today).
So the heroics of Jean Valjean speak to the heart of jaded men. It reminds men of their mighty calling to sacrifice. It reminds men to use their strength in service of the weak, whether it be sweeping the woman or child off the streets, or saving another man in an hour of need.
Men are told in today's society that they no longer be a hero. Until they buck the conventional wisdom, they will remain the villain in these drummed up gender wars.
19.8.13
Life Lessons Learned
I woke up unnecessarily early one morning in Malawi and cast off down a path before the cresting sun. The thoughts of possibly stumbling upon a black mamba would normally make me paranoid, but those thoughts were cast off down a mental path that wouldn't be traveled for the remainder of my journey.
For an hour or two, I blazed trails up a mountainside that had allegedly not been traversed by a westerner in over twenty years. I wanted to break that streak. The mountain was not particularly steep, but it was treacherous, often providing me a way up but not a way back down.
I had just shimmied up one of those points and looked out upon the risen sun when I heard snarling and went numb. I could not climb back down and in my foolishness, had not even picked up a stick with which to protect myself. So, fear-tinged numbness, I continued to look out at the sun and await the inevitable. But it didn't come. I slowly turned and saw a baboon about 50 yards away, across a small ravine, and about 30 feet up on a ledge.
I took a step or two, and while the baboon continued to snarl viciously at me, he didn't move. Slowly, I continued to shuffle up the mountain, keeping as far a distance from the keeper of the territory as possible. After several hours of climbing, I finally reached the narrow summit of the mountain. The strong gusts of wind kept me clinging closely to the boulders at the top.
Between the two largest rocks at the very peak, I noticed a small cleft. I raised my leg high into the air and was able to climb into the cleft. I sat down, sang "Rock of Ages," journaled, and prayed.
A bit later, I set back out, looking for an alternative way to get back down the same mountainside. Again, I heard the snarling, but this time the sound seemed close enough to reverberate down my spine. I turned and again saw my hairy friend--still across the small ravine--but now about eye level. I took a few steps to continue downward and he climbed off his crest and disappeared from view.
Seeing and hearing him was frightening; not seeing or hearing him was alarming. I beat back across the peak and began to descend the other side of the mountain, though it would put me miles from my village. No thoughts about snakes. I just began to jog and jump whenever I found opportunity. I would rather sprain an ankle than be torn apart.
Gradually, I found a village at the base of the mountain. They had not seen many azungu (white people) before, especially coming from the mountainside through their village. When I got to the main road, I strapped my backpack on tighter and used my coursing adrenaline to jog around the base of the mountain and settle upon my old village.
The reason I bring this story up is because it portrays a particular psychological defense mechanism of mine, taught in childhood, and continuing to this day. During many of the harder childhood years, my method of self-preservation came from drawing inside of myself and becoming numb to my surroundings. No thoughts. No feelings. I became a spectator inside a shell, waiting to see the horrid games play out.
While I would physically freeze as well as mentally freeze as a child during times of trauma, I gradually grew out of the physical portion. (Otherwise I would still be on the mountain with the giant mountain monkey.) Whenever I faced physical or mental trauma in ensuing years, my rational and emotional faculties would simply shut down. This is why most of you have likely not seen much emotion from me (aside from normal hyperactivity and animation). My wife sometimes complains that I never get excited about anything. That's why.
Emotions make me vulnerable. I associate vulnerability with weakness (wrongly), and I subconsciously steel myself. My range of emotions are limited to a child's vocabulary (happy, sad, mad) and pale in comparison with those of an actual child (like Baby Seth!).
And while this defense mechanism has proven a burden to my marriage, requiring a good bit of counseling, it has proven a blessing on occasions like the one described and now on this deployment. I am often cautious, but rarely ever afraid. In a convoy, while others sweat, snap at each other, and stress out, I sit quietly, scanning the scene for potential threats, and beside that think and feel nothing.
I gave a homework assignment to a soldier I counseled recently. He also has a problem with vulnerability. This past week, we both committed to spend time individually kneeling before the Lord in prayer--a position of vulnerability. This was once suggested to me by a wise counselor (and as Irving Yalom points out, all counselors should themselves be counseled).
And even as I continue to grow out of this defect, with stubborn sluggishness, I rejoice that like all circumstances, internal and external, this has been used in the providence of God for my good and His glory. We can stand unashamed of our various psychological defects, knowing that the Father's love secures us, Jesus' blood has redeemed us, and the Spirit's power sanctifies us. And God's strength is manifested in our weakness.
God has raised me up to counsel the broken because in me, the worst of sinners, He has made the bones He has broken to rejoice (Ps. 51). I pray that I can do so with emotion!
For an hour or two, I blazed trails up a mountainside that had allegedly not been traversed by a westerner in over twenty years. I wanted to break that streak. The mountain was not particularly steep, but it was treacherous, often providing me a way up but not a way back down.
I had just shimmied up one of those points and looked out upon the risen sun when I heard snarling and went numb. I could not climb back down and in my foolishness, had not even picked up a stick with which to protect myself. So, fear-tinged numbness, I continued to look out at the sun and await the inevitable. But it didn't come. I slowly turned and saw a baboon about 50 yards away, across a small ravine, and about 30 feet up on a ledge.
I took a step or two, and while the baboon continued to snarl viciously at me, he didn't move. Slowly, I continued to shuffle up the mountain, keeping as far a distance from the keeper of the territory as possible. After several hours of climbing, I finally reached the narrow summit of the mountain. The strong gusts of wind kept me clinging closely to the boulders at the top.
Between the two largest rocks at the very peak, I noticed a small cleft. I raised my leg high into the air and was able to climb into the cleft. I sat down, sang "Rock of Ages," journaled, and prayed.
A bit later, I set back out, looking for an alternative way to get back down the same mountainside. Again, I heard the snarling, but this time the sound seemed close enough to reverberate down my spine. I turned and again saw my hairy friend--still across the small ravine--but now about eye level. I took a few steps to continue downward and he climbed off his crest and disappeared from view.
Seeing and hearing him was frightening; not seeing or hearing him was alarming. I beat back across the peak and began to descend the other side of the mountain, though it would put me miles from my village. No thoughts about snakes. I just began to jog and jump whenever I found opportunity. I would rather sprain an ankle than be torn apart.
Gradually, I found a village at the base of the mountain. They had not seen many azungu (white people) before, especially coming from the mountainside through their village. When I got to the main road, I strapped my backpack on tighter and used my coursing adrenaline to jog around the base of the mountain and settle upon my old village.
The reason I bring this story up is because it portrays a particular psychological defense mechanism of mine, taught in childhood, and continuing to this day. During many of the harder childhood years, my method of self-preservation came from drawing inside of myself and becoming numb to my surroundings. No thoughts. No feelings. I became a spectator inside a shell, waiting to see the horrid games play out.
While I would physically freeze as well as mentally freeze as a child during times of trauma, I gradually grew out of the physical portion. (Otherwise I would still be on the mountain with the giant mountain monkey.) Whenever I faced physical or mental trauma in ensuing years, my rational and emotional faculties would simply shut down. This is why most of you have likely not seen much emotion from me (aside from normal hyperactivity and animation). My wife sometimes complains that I never get excited about anything. That's why.
Emotions make me vulnerable. I associate vulnerability with weakness (wrongly), and I subconsciously steel myself. My range of emotions are limited to a child's vocabulary (happy, sad, mad) and pale in comparison with those of an actual child (like Baby Seth!).
And while this defense mechanism has proven a burden to my marriage, requiring a good bit of counseling, it has proven a blessing on occasions like the one described and now on this deployment. I am often cautious, but rarely ever afraid. In a convoy, while others sweat, snap at each other, and stress out, I sit quietly, scanning the scene for potential threats, and beside that think and feel nothing.
I gave a homework assignment to a soldier I counseled recently. He also has a problem with vulnerability. This past week, we both committed to spend time individually kneeling before the Lord in prayer--a position of vulnerability. This was once suggested to me by a wise counselor (and as Irving Yalom points out, all counselors should themselves be counseled).
And even as I continue to grow out of this defect, with stubborn sluggishness, I rejoice that like all circumstances, internal and external, this has been used in the providence of God for my good and His glory. We can stand unashamed of our various psychological defects, knowing that the Father's love secures us, Jesus' blood has redeemed us, and the Spirit's power sanctifies us. And God's strength is manifested in our weakness.
God has raised me up to counsel the broken because in me, the worst of sinners, He has made the bones He has broken to rejoice (Ps. 51). I pray that I can do so with emotion!
18.8.13
Always a Student
I have conducted about thirty counseling appointments since arriving in country, not counting those whose circumstances I know and simply drop by to update me every so often, or those who I visit and engage on a more informal basis.
In my tracking these appointments, I divide between "Tier 1" (a check up), "Tier 2" (in need of repair), and "Tier 3" (a full breakdown). Thankfully, there have been no Tier 3's, though there have been plenty of time-intensive, emotion-investing Tier 2's. I break down these cases by type, and while there is the occasional case of combat stress or professional stress, most of the cases are related to family--upbringing, marriage, parenting, and financial hardship.
With these things in mind, and always eager to get more education, I applied for, and was admitted into the Masters program for counseling at Westminster Theological Seminary in Philadelphia. I will hopefully take 6-9 credits for each of the two semesters I am out here, and an addition 2-3 during the winter interim. They have graciously allowed me to do a fair number of initial credits online, though I'll need to snag some of the remaining classes in person through intensive training at later points.
I am blessed to be a part of this WTS program. There are a lot of schools out there that provide degrees online, particularly in conjunction with the Army, but I wanted to go to the best school of biblical counseling and I have been convinced over the years that WTS is the place. Their professors have been trained in the best psych programs in the country, thus they are incredibly learned, wide-ranging in their analyses, and piercing in their critiques. And their books are just freaking good!
In an attempt to get a jump on the first semester, I have already read Sinclair Ferugson's The Christian Life, which provides a doctrinal basis for understanding the Christian life. I am now reading secular psycho-analyst Irving Yalom's work, Love's Executioner, which begins with a though-provoking approach and analysis of psychology, followed by eight stories in his intense engagement with highly complex cases. The messiness of the cases remind me a lot of some of my own cases, and I appreciate that this reknowned psychologist is often as flummoxed and humbled as I am. Psychology is more of an art than a science. And as useful as Yalom's work is--it is clear that his patients are all wrestling with theological and philosophical issues at the core of their psychological problems. Yalom highlights the problems, but can offer only temporal satisfaction to the deep wrestling with death, love and life.
In Song of Songs 8, life and love are presented as barriers--even brazen defiance--to the overbearing reality and hardship of death. Where can that love be found? And how can it be trusted?
I have one soldier who wrestles with a lot of hard life circumstances. He has been abandoned, abused, abandoned again, and have committed acts of abuse. Like me (and a therapist can never entirely remove his own experiences and emotions from his cases), the soldier has a hard time becoming vulnerable. Why? It seems that he views his vulnerability as weakness, and as has been his life history, weakness and other flaws results in the severing of bonds of love. And he can't forgive himself for some of his own sinful acts. Why? It seems that the conditional love he has always been shown has been embedded deeply in his own self-perception. He cannot love himself.
But he professes faith in Jesus Christ, and as such, he has the resources to start combating these vicious philosophical and psychological deceptions. The common denominator in most cases I deal with is an inability to trust in unconditional love. Most of my soldiers grew up in broken and dysfunctional families, where love always seemed conditioned on behavior. They now perpetuate these patterns into the next generation.
For those who have faith in Jesus Christ, there is a concrete model for unconditional love. It is found in the God, who in love, elected a people from before time began. It had nothing to do with one's works--good or bad--but entirely upon His own will. And as the origin of the Father's love is completely unconditioned (Eph. 1), and as God never changes (Mal. 3, Js. 1), then His abiding love is never conditioned either. His affection has been permanently set upon His people through the work of Jesus Christ and sealed unto eternity by His Spirit. Because Jesus, in the Father's justice and mercy, was forsaken, God's people will never be forsaken. Nothing can separate them from the love of God in Christ Jesus. No one can snatch them from the hand of the Good Shepherd.
So instead of bringing the baggage of a life of conditional love into a new marriage and family, Christians have the opportunity to bring the light of yoke of God's unconditional love in Jesus Christ. This is what breaks the bonds of divorce and abuse and what enables hearts to become vulnerable and intimate--a healthy view of God's love and mercy. A knowledge that in His love, we are safe.
In my tracking these appointments, I divide between "Tier 1" (a check up), "Tier 2" (in need of repair), and "Tier 3" (a full breakdown). Thankfully, there have been no Tier 3's, though there have been plenty of time-intensive, emotion-investing Tier 2's. I break down these cases by type, and while there is the occasional case of combat stress or professional stress, most of the cases are related to family--upbringing, marriage, parenting, and financial hardship.
With these things in mind, and always eager to get more education, I applied for, and was admitted into the Masters program for counseling at Westminster Theological Seminary in Philadelphia. I will hopefully take 6-9 credits for each of the two semesters I am out here, and an addition 2-3 during the winter interim. They have graciously allowed me to do a fair number of initial credits online, though I'll need to snag some of the remaining classes in person through intensive training at later points.
I am blessed to be a part of this WTS program. There are a lot of schools out there that provide degrees online, particularly in conjunction with the Army, but I wanted to go to the best school of biblical counseling and I have been convinced over the years that WTS is the place. Their professors have been trained in the best psych programs in the country, thus they are incredibly learned, wide-ranging in their analyses, and piercing in their critiques. And their books are just freaking good!
In an attempt to get a jump on the first semester, I have already read Sinclair Ferugson's The Christian Life, which provides a doctrinal basis for understanding the Christian life. I am now reading secular psycho-analyst Irving Yalom's work, Love's Executioner, which begins with a though-provoking approach and analysis of psychology, followed by eight stories in his intense engagement with highly complex cases. The messiness of the cases remind me a lot of some of my own cases, and I appreciate that this reknowned psychologist is often as flummoxed and humbled as I am. Psychology is more of an art than a science. And as useful as Yalom's work is--it is clear that his patients are all wrestling with theological and philosophical issues at the core of their psychological problems. Yalom highlights the problems, but can offer only temporal satisfaction to the deep wrestling with death, love and life.
In Song of Songs 8, life and love are presented as barriers--even brazen defiance--to the overbearing reality and hardship of death. Where can that love be found? And how can it be trusted?
I have one soldier who wrestles with a lot of hard life circumstances. He has been abandoned, abused, abandoned again, and have committed acts of abuse. Like me (and a therapist can never entirely remove his own experiences and emotions from his cases), the soldier has a hard time becoming vulnerable. Why? It seems that he views his vulnerability as weakness, and as has been his life history, weakness and other flaws results in the severing of bonds of love. And he can't forgive himself for some of his own sinful acts. Why? It seems that the conditional love he has always been shown has been embedded deeply in his own self-perception. He cannot love himself.
But he professes faith in Jesus Christ, and as such, he has the resources to start combating these vicious philosophical and psychological deceptions. The common denominator in most cases I deal with is an inability to trust in unconditional love. Most of my soldiers grew up in broken and dysfunctional families, where love always seemed conditioned on behavior. They now perpetuate these patterns into the next generation.
For those who have faith in Jesus Christ, there is a concrete model for unconditional love. It is found in the God, who in love, elected a people from before time began. It had nothing to do with one's works--good or bad--but entirely upon His own will. And as the origin of the Father's love is completely unconditioned (Eph. 1), and as God never changes (Mal. 3, Js. 1), then His abiding love is never conditioned either. His affection has been permanently set upon His people through the work of Jesus Christ and sealed unto eternity by His Spirit. Because Jesus, in the Father's justice and mercy, was forsaken, God's people will never be forsaken. Nothing can separate them from the love of God in Christ Jesus. No one can snatch them from the hand of the Good Shepherd.
So instead of bringing the baggage of a life of conditional love into a new marriage and family, Christians have the opportunity to bring the light of yoke of God's unconditional love in Jesus Christ. This is what breaks the bonds of divorce and abuse and what enables hearts to become vulnerable and intimate--a healthy view of God's love and mercy. A knowledge that in His love, we are safe.
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