godwho's diary

godwho's Diaryland Diary

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WWJD about PP?

The other day, I was driving through town and hit the stop light in front of the strip mall where the local Planned Parenthood is. I noticed two women sitting on camp chairs in the shade of some bushes, talking, and using their legs to prop up signs that had something written on them that was illegible if you didn�t stop to stare, which I didn�t. It gave me the creeps.

In one way, it was almost as bad as the group I�d seen the Sunday afternoon I�d stopped into Hastings in the same strip mall. In another way, it was worse.

On that Sunday, there were a whole line of people, standing, holding hands, carrying signs; the guy on the end had a bullhorn and was talking with a great deal of amplification at the cars as they passed. They were like a wall. A threatening wall, one which I�m sure was well-meaning, but they freaked the crap out of me, and I was behind them and not heading in for the Morning-After Pill or Norplant or anything. In fact, I was buying a book for a Bible study! And I felt naughty just for being in the vicinity and not being �with them.� They were menacing, and I�m certain menacing never wins anyone for Christ.

So, while these two women were somewhat less intimidating than the wall of vigilant pro-lifers, in a way they were more pathetic. First of all, they weren�t standing up for anything. They were sitting. In the shade. And they weren�t even holding their signs. They were propping them up on the ground, sort of facing the flow of traffic. Lukewarm vigilantes. I�m not sure what the point is there. I guess maybe they�re just trying to remind� um, folks in automobiles (?) that Jesus loves unborn babies. Which He does. But I don�t understand how what they�re doing is supposed to convert anyone�s thinking to their way of thinking. They make me feel defensive and angry and, on some points, I probably agree with their core beliefs.

While their purpose might be to speak for those who can�t speak for themselves (the unborn), their methods have to be doing more harm than good. If you put an arrogant, angry, judgmental face on the as-yet anonymous child, who�s going to be sympathetic?

You can shout �Jesus loves you!� through a bullhorn all you want, and if you�re just ticking people off, it�s not glorifying Him at all! And though I�m partially stymied as to why people do this kind of thing, especially en masse, if I am honest with myself and look deep into my most self-based fears, I can most likely guess exactly why they do it: Because the alternative, the true way to affect people, is messy and dangerous and exhausting.

Allow me to illustrate�

For all of our �WWJD?�ing, we don�t ever actually think about what Jesus would truly do and put that into action. I think WWJD? is just a reminder not to screw up, instead of being a call to engage in a lifestyle of loving others. So let�s say Jesus was plopped down into that strip mall this afternoon. What would that look like?

~~~~~~~~~~

He came into Hastings around lunchtime and sat in the Hard Back Caf�, leafing through the Entertainment Weekly. A young girl slunk into the booth across from him, throwing down a bag of Chee-Tos and a caf� latte. Her head bobbed to the beat of the punk band playing in her iPod, clearly audible despite her earphones. She unconsciously hummed while she chewed, and seemed lost in her own thoughts. Her thickly black lined eyes squeezed shut, enjoying the drum solo.

"Can I have some? " he asked, pointing to the chips. She didn�t hear him. He waited a moment and tapped her on the shoulder, �Share?� he asked again.

She pulled out an earbud while giving him the once-over. He was dressed conservatively, his beard neatly trimmed and his slacks pressed at some point though the crease was not fastidiously maintained. He reminded her of her dad, a thought that made her spine tremor.

�Are you talking to me?� she asked.

He smiled, �You�re the one who bought the last bag of Chee-Tos, right?�

�Buy your own,� she rolled her eyes and plugged the music back into her ear canal, careful not to get the wire tangled between the half-dozen earrings lining her lobe.

"If you knew the gift of God and who it is that asks you for a bite, you would have asked him and he would have given you an unbelievable feast."

Despite the quietness of his voice, she�d heard him. �Always refer to yourself in the third person?� she asked. Then she noticed the way he was looking at her. Not the way most men looked at her. He seemed concerned, caring. Not the kind of hungry fascination a petite firecracker like she usually generated. �Listen, buddy,� she pulled out her wallet, "do you need a couple of bucks or what? Your old lady threw you out? You�re just trying to get enough money to buy a bus ticket to see your sick kid? What?� She held out a five-dollar bill, hoping that would get rid of him.

He answered, "I don�t need anything. I have everything I need, and so can you."

The girl put her wallet away and rolled her eyes again. �Great,� she thought. �A philosopher.� Out loud, she said, �Well, if you have any extra you�re handing out..."

As she glanced away from him uncomfortably, he said, �Anyway, are you sure junk food is the most nutritious choice for a woman in your condition?�

�I�m not pregnant, wise ass, just fat� she replied angrily, trying not to steal a look down at her swollen abdomen.

He sighed, a momentary weariness flashing across his face. �What you have just said is quite true. You�ve had two kids, both of whom you gave up for adoption, with two different fathers. And you aborted the third one last week.�

Great! A stalker! She tried to hide her nervousness, but was caught off-guard. �Listen, if you�re one of those people, they�re out there, around the corner. You can�t miss �em.� She couldn�t help but notice, though, that this man couldn�t possibly be one of �them.� He didn�t seem offended by her accusatory tone, nor did he move to leave. �Let me ask you something, though,� she said more quietly. �If Jesus is so big on life, why doesn�t he try harder to fix the ones that are already here?�

�Believe me, the time is coming when all will be set to right,� his gentle tone matched hers. He reached down and put one of his hands on hers. Her hand was decorated with a henna tattoo, her wrist covered in black bracelets, partly for style and partly to cover the cuts. �Until then��

She looked up to see that he�d turned a bit and was gazing out the window at the group of people meant to be his hands and feet. He ached that none of them were loving this girl in a time when she needed love more than anything else. When he turned back to her, their eyes met directly for the first time.

�I didn�t expect it to be this hard,� she said, lacking better words to articulate her confusion and disillusion, but feeling he understood completely.

His face flashed a dozen things at once: empathy, sadness, love, gentle reproof, but total acceptance. He hadn�t said a word, yet she could feel more meaning in his comforting silence than in a thousand sermons.

Wiping a hard-fought-against tear from the corner of her right eye, she surveyed her blue-nailed fingers for smeared mascara. �I know. I could make better choices.� He smiled softly and nodded. �I will,� she promised. She�d never promised anyone anything, but there was something different about him. Something that made her want to be better.

~~~~~~~~~~

Before anyone accuses me of heresy: this is just a loosely-paraphrased retelling of a conversation Jesus had with an �unclean� Samaritan woman in the book written by one of his best friends, John.

There is no scriptural precedence for picketing, and it bothers me that people picket in the name of Jesus when all it does is negatively inflame those who are for whatever the picketer is against, or vice-versa. Jesus made it clear that the way to change lives is to be involved in lives. When his disciples came back from buying food in the Samaritan town, their first question was, �Why were you talking to her?� So if we really want to do what Jesus would do, we need to get into relationships with people of whom the religious elite might wonder, �Why?� And not as charity cases. As friends. If we say we love God, how can we not love those people?

My understanding of God is that he loves every person he has created (and that�s everyone). Since the activist pro-lifers seem to see God the same way, it�s ironic that they don�t realize that God loves the mom walking into the clinic as much as he loves the baby. And this one would blow their minds: God loves the abortion doctor just as much as he loves the baby, and just as much as he loves the people standing out in a line with signs and a bullhorn.

8:15 p.m. - 2006-09-22

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Damn it

There is an article on MSN right now called "The new naysayers: 3 scholars argue for atheism." It's a well-written piece, but lengthy enough that I won't regurgitate it here.

We're on our way out the door on vacation right now, so I won't attempt to visit any of the objections specifically (though I might later), but I will note that the couple of times the above-referenced scholars mention people being pleased about another human's damnation just show that we, as Christians, still have a LOT of apologizing and genuine loving to do. What kind of Christ follower would actually gloat or find any peace in thinking about someone's eternal separation from God? That's really sick. I'm ashamed people feel that way, and I'm even more ticked off that they've given voice to it.

5:51 a.m. - 2006-09-10

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Part II

(continued from the previous post)

So my next logical step was to see if this guy from my high school days was available. I�d had the biggest crush on him for three years, and we�d been good friends. But he fell in love with a classmate of mine pretty soon after I met him, and he was obsessed with her. They�d gotten married when she and I were still seniors, but they�d gotten divorced. He was dating some girl, but in my mind, I had dibs, right? I�d known him longer.

I was living with my parents when this guy came to visit me, when we saw each other for the first time in the better part of a decade. There were sparks immediately. I knew he had a long-term girlfriend, but her happiness never occurred to me. I wasn�t concerned. Being with him, acting silly at an arcade, walking down the street sight-seeing in too-high heels (then later barefoot as my toes gave out), and holding hands in a darkened theater gave me an enormous sense of self-worth and happiness I hadn�t had in months. So I staked a claim.

At the time, I started deciding that perhaps the reason I never had a steady boyfriend in high school wasn�t that I was particularly fat, but that I had a reputation for not putting out. In fact, I remember one boy telling a mutual friend of ours that the reason he�d gone back to his ex-girlfriend instead of staying with me was that �a dead fish is better than no fish at all.�

I think maybe I bought into the romantic movie idea that if that one guy could just do it with me one time, a switch would be thrown, and the light would dawn, and all would be right with the world. In fact, I manipulatively did the most un-girly thing the next morning: I announced that it hadn�t meant a thing, I didn�t expect any more from him, and that I just didn�t want to spend the NEXT twelve years of my life wondering �what if?�

And it worked like gangbusters. He told me he didn�t have the heart to go on if it didn�t have the chance of being �real.� He even moved away from the town where he�d met his girlfriend to get some space between them. He never told her �the truth� about us, but figured she�d get the hint and give up after he was out of the picture. A few months later, he called me and invited me out to visit him. He said he had something he needed to talk to me about. Several weeks and several hundred dollars later, I sat in his apartment, dolled up like a whore, while he told me that he and the girlfriend had gotten in a terrible argument during which she�d given him an ultimatum: either they broke up, or they got married. His choice: marriage. He �owed� her for all of the time she�d put into him. He was sorry, but he knew I�d understand.

If understanding involved a hysterical combination of hyperventilation, screaming, and tears, then, yes, I understood. I was broken again. Broken and lost. I called my mom back home, not knowing to whom else I could process this new information. Then I called an old family friend to see if I could stay with him and his roommate, since I could not bear to stay at this guy�s apartment after what he�d put me though.

My friend agreed, picked me up, and I once again self-medicated by sleeping with him. Yes, the very night my heart was broken by the long-time crush. I had to feel like something more than nothing, and that seemed the most immediate way to do it.

I didn�t realize it, but I, the same person who had saved herself for nearly 20 years, was quickly on the road to desensitizing myself to sex altogether. I was still the same screwed-up high school kid, but I had added sex to the list of ways to finesse guys into paying attention to me. And it wasn�t working! Even though I�d done it with the long-time crush, he chose someone else, anyway� ironically, someone who was still a virgin at age 29, holding out for marriage.

The absolute worst was a one-nighter I�d met on the internet. I hated him when I met him, I knew I never wanted to see him again because he was a jerk, and I couldn�t tell you his name today. It was on Christmas Eve, and I had to go to my parents� the next morning and act jolly� And, actually, I don�t think I felt a lot of irony, because I was in complete denial about how empty and lonely I was.

Soon afterwards, I met my husband. I was still damaged goods, and I think he was getting closer to healing, but he had a bit of residual messed-up to overcome, as well. We were quickly married, and the first few years of our marriage were a roller coaster. We got along and enjoyed each other for the most part, except when we didn�t. And when we didn�t, those were long and dark times.

The biggest problem for me, I think, was that I went into what is supposed to be a committed and selfless relationship with the same unhealthy mindset I�d had all along: In order for me to feel important, you have to treat me a certain way. Otherwise, I�m hurt and angry, and you�re going to pay.

My husband had been going to a church near where we lived, and I started going with him. It was easy enough to plug back in to that churchy lifestyle since I already knew the lingo and the rhythm. The main difference, though, was that this congregation felt alive, and I could see people living honest, messy, glorious lives right in front of me. They used dramas and musical elements to illustrate Biblical truths� stuff that works for this theater major. And, at some point, without my noticing, things started sinking in.

In a matter of a couple of years, I went from being hopelessly adrift at sea to being buoyed by grace and brought onto solid ground by the truth of God�s unconditional love for and earnest desire for a relationship with me. It couldn�t have happened at a better time, either.

A few months before our fourth anniversary, my husband (are you tracking with me here?) told me I was overweight and needed to lose 50 or 60 pounds. It broke my heart and took me totally by surprise. The day he told me, I�d taken a picture of our year-old daughter and me before we went to a niece�s birthday party because I thought I looked so good. After the initial shock and anger, however, I determined to lose weight. Much, much later, I had to admit that I had put on weight after the pregnancy, continuing to eat like I was carrying or nursing when I wasn�t. The weight came off, slowly but surely, as I implemented a healthy eating pattern and increased exercise.

Just before Christmas of that year, only a couple of weeks after the �fat� day, we�d gone up to the mountains to see the snow and take pictures. He hadn�t said two words to me all day, though he was plenty friendly with our child. As we walked into the house, I suggested we get counseling. He said, �Okay, and if that doesn�t work, then we should try a separation.� �No!� I refused. He said, �Okay, then. Divorce.� Without thinking, I said, �Why? What would that solve?�

He got back in the car and left the baby and me alone. I put her down for a nap and called everybody I knew: my sister, his parents, my best friend, the pastor on call at our church� I knew my own parents would still be in church, so I didn�t even try their house. I got busy signals or no answers all around. And in the quiet, I felt God reaching out to me, asking, �What about me?� I had an incredible sense that He wanted to comfort me. And as I saw that, I realized that was what He�d wanted all along� and what I�d wanted, what I�d searched for, what I�d manipulated people and events to get, and what I�d never let touch me. I�d had unconditional love, support, and approval all along. I�d just never slowed down enough to let it wash over me. And when I did, everything changed.

My marriage did not improve rapidly. It was probably a good year before I�d say we had a reasonably healthy relationship. What�s amazing was that as soon as it hit me that who I am, ultimately, is not changed by situations, I was a lot less defensive and more willing to honestly examine what I might be doing to damage my marriage. Imagine my surprise when I realized I wasn�t the perfect wife with just some big inconsiderate dolt for a husband.

More than two years after this, my husband broke down and cried when he told me that, six months after all of it had happened, he could see how I�d turned everything around. He said he was ashamed that he hadn�t told me at the time, but his pride would not let him admit it. That he would say these things was evidence of how he�d turned around, too.

I�ve often looked back to see how, in my life, significant things have happened in twos. I�ve had two �you need to drop a couple of stone� from people very close to me, and can only explain the difference in my reactions to being firmly rooted in who I am as a person the second time around.

And the first time I was in a marriage in which I wasn�t having a good time, the second I saw an out, I was gone. The second time was a lot harder to endure, but pressing on and working through, with faith that God will bless the efforts, has been an amazing journey.

Having done both, I now have such a heart for both marriages in distress and for people behaving �badly� from all appearances. My girlfriend and I talked once about our post-divorce �slut periods.� It�s not something of which either of us are proud, but I think it�s a reality that hurt people make poor decisions out of their pain, and preaching to them is not going to turn their hearts around. The same can be said for people in marriages that aren�t working for them.

When people found out I was planning to move out of my first husband�s and my apartment, I was discouraged. Several people told me I couldn�t because it was wrong. One elder from the church where we�d attended offered to come talk to me. Not one person from a church environment just put her arm around me and said, �Oh, baby, come here,� and let me cry or talk or process. I think they all had good intentions. They were trying to stop me from making the first in a couple of years of very damaging decisions. But the only people who seemed interested in how I was feeling were the �heathens� at work, telling me I needed to do whatever it took to be happy. They were the only comfort I received.

Just after I got married the second time, I had a girlfriend from college separate from her husband. She�d call me sometimes to talk about it. I never offered her any advice at all. I just listened. She made the comment once that she loved talking to me because I understood. She said that when she�d tried to talk to her best girlfriend at home about frustrations with her husband, this girl said, �You can�t even THINK about divorcing him! It�s a sin!� She said she told the girl, �What do you know about anything? You have the perfect marriage to a perfect little lawyer, and you don�t have to worry about anything!� I don�t believe anyone has a perfect marriage, and I think that Christians do a disservice to each other and the world when we try to put on a happy face and pretend that we don�t have the same struggles everyone else does. The great ending to this story is that, within a couple of years, this couple had worked things out and have been back together ever since.

Another time, more recently, a couple at our old church had had an affair. Both were married and both involved in a prominent ministry together. When the proverbial feces hit the proverbial fan, it was taking on the spin of �well, he�s just a poor, stupid moron and she�s a terrible seductress out to destroy his family.� I didn�t like it, so I took it upon myself to contact the girl, whom I only knew in passing. When she returned my call, she was sheepish, but agreed to meet with me. For the next two months, we talked every day. I listened as she said selfish, foolish things that would have sounded so much uglier to someone who hadn�t thought and done the same kinds of things. It was a little overwhelming, actually. She was, of course, needy in the first place, and suddenly the one from whom she was getting the lion�s share of her attention was gone. I told my husband that �bearing one another�s burdens� was quite draining, which made me realize I�d never actually committed to doing that before.

During these weeks of intense conversations, this girl was alternately ready to divorce her husband and start over or rebound to her husband since the boyfriend thing appeared not to have worked out. The only advice I offered at the time was, �Don�t do anything permanent. Just process for a while until things calm down.� Otherwise, all I said was, �Yeah, I remember when I� was in a parallel situation, �I did� almost the same thing. And I�d tell her how it worked out or didn�t.

This was three years ago. She and her husband reconciled and they have a year-old son now, in addition to an older daughter. I don�t claim to have saved her marriage; I know God did that. But I was one of only a few people who would give her the time of day for a long while. And I feel like my being able to do that was a blessing, and it continues to be a ministry for which God has given me a responsibility and a passion.

Having just finished John Burke�s �No Perfect People Allowed,� I was viewing our church service today with a critical eye toward its friendliness to people who don�t know God at all. I was delighted when they showed a video of a couple in our congregation who were saying, �Six months ago, if you�d told me I�d still be married today, I wouldn�t have believed it.� They were talking about the problems they�d had and how they�d started turning it around, and how glad they were to still be together, but how it was a process with which they were not through. I know it was encouraging and touching because there were lots of sniffles during the following prayer.

I�m glad that we go to a church where you don�t have to appear to have it all together to get in the front door. I�m glad it�s an environment of honesty and openness in struggles, and a body which is sincere about opening the arms of Christ to people who need Him. I hope these same things characterize my own life.

3:12 p.m. - 2006-09-03

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Lookin' for love (in all the wrong places)

�Boy, know your place.
Lies do not become us.
Real is more attractive than a slick and polished mask.
Girl, dig down deep,
I know there's more between us.
There's bound to be a question
You're just dying for me to ask.

�If you can be honest
I can be, too.
If you'll take the first step
I'll follow you through.
But no one wants to bleed.
No one wants to hide.
No one wants to hurt alone inside�� Kendall Payne

I didn�t have sex until I was married (the first time), and I wish I could say it was some moral high ground I took, but that�s not the case. Seeing my girlfriends destroyed emotionally by sexual relationships which, of course, never turned out the way they wanted them to, I was keenly aware of the fact that I was screwed up enough without physically melding with another person on such an intimate level. I didn�t need to provide any further inlets for angst; I had enough as it was, thank you very much.

Regardless, I see, looking back, that male approval has always been a huge issue for me. This is not because of any love withheld from my dad, as the entirety of my home life (of which I was aware at the time) looked very Norman-Rockwell-esque.

I don�t remember how or when it started, but I do remember walking onto my elementary school campus in second grade, the day after I�d gotten glasses, and seeing first Mikey Rodenbeck. He took one look at me, said, �Oh, no!� and made a face of horror before running off. I chased him, like a monster, playing along, but inside I was crushed.

Over the years, I�d fall in �love� and get hurt time and time again. I grew shallow and manipulative as a means of trying to protect myself. I realize those stages are a part of growing up, but it took me an excruciatingly long time to throw off the games, and I can admit I�m not above reverting to them now when I feel hurt.

When I was in sixth grade, a boy with whom I�d been best friends for several years seemed interested in one of our friends. Now, this was a kid with whom I�d played handball with a bovine heart after a science fair once, so we�re talking serious closeness here. This girl he liked was a sweetheart, but when I found out they were doing something together, my first thought was, �She�s fatter than I am!�

Throughout my adolescence, I assumed my inability to interest guys was because I was fat. I felt like I was funny and smart and talented, so it had to be the blubber that was keeping guys away. But, maybe because I have severe control issues, I never tried to lose weight, really. I was always resentful that one of my best friends in high school could eat two or three candy bars a day and still weigh 95 pounds to my same-height-155.

And although I didn�t try to drop pounds, I would exercise� Not the healthy kind, either. The only thing that kept me from being sedentary was my temporary cure for depression, which meant slapping on the headphones and walking until I felt better. And since I was into showtunes, these walks often lasted hours. No, my more regular exercise involved standing in front of the mirror in my parents� bathroom, turning sideways, sticking out my stomach, and saying to myself, �You�re so ugly. I hate you.�

So, even though I didn�t �do it,� I did give emotionally more to guys than I should have at such a young age. And as much as I might have thought I loved the several young men to whom I gave my heart during those years, the truth was that once they showed even the slightest interest in me, I expected them to treat me like I saw, from my jaded perspective, all of my friends� boyfriends treating them. It didn�t matter if they showed me love in their own unique way, I was mad because he didn�t write me notes during the day anymore like he�d done when we were �just friends.� Or I was cheesed off when he didn�t make ME a birthday cake like he�d made his last girlfriend. Or I was furious when he broke up with me three days before Valentine�s, and I�d never ever gotten anything on Valentine�s Day before.

I was a brat.

But I was a hugely insecure, vanquished brat.

So.