Posted on

Righteous Indignation

This year has been one for the history books, and we only just made it to June. I’ve written periodically about the coronavirus over the past few months, and how as a believer I think we ought to respond. This was the first time (except for the 2016 election) that I’ve written about current events on my blog. Generally, I don’t think that there’s any reason for me to add my voice to such a vast conversation as the one surrounding the current state of our world. A few nights ago, there was a riot in my hometown and I was reminded, once again, that sometimes current events don’t happen a thousand miles away but in our own backyards, and I felt like I needed to say something, if only to distill my thoughts.

In this post I am going to be talking about racism and systemic corruption and before I go on, I must acknowledge that I am writing from the perspective of a white, Christian male. These aspects of my identity have fundamentally shaped the way that I have experienced the world and interacted with it. They give me certain blind-spots in life. There are things I can never understand. One of those is to understand what it is like to live in a culture that is systemically racist and prejudiced against me. I have never firsthand experienced the injustices of racism. There may be moments in my life where I experience situational prejudice, but that is not the same as racism. Racism is a complex and multilayered issue that I do not think I will ever personally understand. As a white man, it would be wrong to pretend I understand the individual experience of a black person, or other people of color. I do not. As a white person, I have what you could describe as the cultural benefit of the doubt. Culture historically has been on “my” side. This is privilege, plain and simple. Specifically “white” privilege. Privilege does not make me a bad person, but it is something that I must recognize. To deny it is to deny the injustice of the system that gives it to me, and to passively accept the unfair advantage I have because of it. This aspect of my identity means that my voice is far from the most important voice in this conversation. My voice and my words should not replace the voices and words of black people who have experienced these racism firsthand.

The death of George Floyd has prompted protests and riots. Believe what you will about the validity of various protesting forms and free speech–I am not here to talk about these protests. The one thing I will say: I think these events are symptoms of a deep anger. This anger stems from generations of injustice. It is an anger that comes from seeing the wickedness of our world and not knowing what to do with it.

I am using the word “anger” in a very specific way here. I am not talking about untempered, uncontrolled rage. That sort of anger is unproductive. Such anger can take control of us, and as Christians we believe that to be controlled by our passions, including anger, is not good. I am using anger to refer to a righteous indignation towards injustice. Perhaps the most notable example of righteous indignation, or righteous anger, is seen in the story of Jesus driving the moneylenders out of the Temple of the LORD (Mark 11). Moneylenders had corrupted the purity of the Temple and Jesus physically turned them out of the Temple, filled with righteous anger.

I think we have a right to be filled, now, with righteous anger. Why? Because of the basic definition of righteous anger.  To be righteous is to be in line with principles of morality and virtue. And to be indignant is to be angry because of an observed injustice or instance of immortality. To be indignant is to have a knowledge of justice and injustice. You know that emotion you might’ve experienced when you were younger, and your brother or sister broke something and didn’t get punished? That’s indignation, because you understood that something ought to have happened, and hadn’t happened.

That word “ought” is key here. “Ought” implies that there is a way that things ought to be, a way things should be. Seeing things as they should be will produce a sense of righteous satisfaction. Seeing things not as they should be will produce a sense of righteous indignation and righteous anger.

Things, right now, are not as they ought to be. Racism and corruption have been a part of our history, not only as a country but as a people, for about as long as history can record. And as for our own country, we cannot deny or ignore the history of slavery and the many injustices associated with it. Times have changed, progress has been made, but things have not fully healed. We can look around us and see the brokenness. We know that even now, things are not as they should be. And this sense we have of brokenness comes because we know how things ought to be.

I believe that God created Heaven and Earth and that He created humankind in His Image. This belief, the belief in the Imago Dei, is a core tenet of Christianity. It is the conviction that every human, regardless of race, nationality, creed, gender, sexuality, or socioeconomic background, has an innate value not because of anything they have done but by virtue of who they are. Psalm 139, my favorite psalm, which I frequently reference, says:

“For you formed my inward parts; you knitted me together in my mother’s womb. I praise you, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made. Wonderful are your works; my soul knows it very well.” (Psalm 139: 13-14, ESV)

This is a beautiful verse, one that brings me deep joy because of the promise it contains. It is a reminder that we all are beautiful. That we have all been fearfully crafted, wonderfully made. The incredible, unfathomable handiwork of God can be seen in the life and breath of any human, regardless of how much or how little that person looks like someone else. This value, present in all, should then prompt us to act with love and respect towards all around us, recognizing everyone else as fellow image-bearers, as fellow reflections of our own beautiful humanity.

Brothers and sisters, we know how things ought to be. We know that they are not there. As such, I believe we should be filled with righteous indignation. We know what is right and we are indignant at the injustice we see. We should be the first to stand up and stand against any instance of evil, including systemic oppression and racist institutions and actions. We should stand up and say that it is wrong, and we must hold our fellow believers to a higher standard, because we should know better. We know that we are all created in the Image of God–that we are all created equal. We must then act like it, and encourage others to do the same. We must confront any cultural biases that have skewed our own perspective, and learn, and grow. We must be willing to do better and be better because we know better. 

There’s a quote famously (falsely) attributed to Dietrich Bonhoeffer, a pastor and a leader of anti-Nazi resistance from WWII. There is truth in this quote despite its nebulous origins: “Silence in the face of evil is itself evil: God will not hold us guiltless. Not to speak is to speak. Not to act is to act.” These strong words are an indictment against passivity, and they contain an idea that I (mostly) agree with. If we see an injustice, we should speak against it. We should not speak so loudly as to drown out the most important voices in the conversation, nor speak so loudly that we don’t have the humility to listen to those who might disagree with us, but we have the responsibility to speak in line with our convictions.

And as believers we hold the truth of consolation in our hearts and in our hands: the deep healing truth of unity with Christ. We know that the fullness of this consolation and rebirth and wholeness will only come in the new Heaven and the new Earth, but until then we are here and we have been given the divine commandment to preach this Good News to everyone. This Good News, this Gospel, starts with news which isn’t as good: the news that the world in which we live is broken. That things are dark, the world is depraved, and full of sin. We who know the light have a responsibility shine in the darkness because when the light shines in the darkness, the darkness cannot overcome it. We must not hide that light away, even when hiding the light might be more comfortable. We must push ourselves into discomfort and be willing to engage in difficult conversations with humility. And we must, we must, be willing to listen to the hurt of the world, because when we listen, we will know when to speak. Because to not speak, when we have seen and heard what is wrong, is to permit.

***

One thing that I have to keep reminding myself to learn and to grow and to be a good ally is more than just posting on Instagram–or even on a blog. I’ve tried to take some steps to educate myself. In a follow up post, I’m going to include some of the resources I’ve personally explored to educate myself and take some action steps towards being a better anti-racist ally, but I’ve included a shortlist of resources here. This is by no means an authoritative or definitive list, but rather some things that I have found personally helpful.

  1. Some books to explore
  2. Some podcasts to listen to
  3. The Black Lives Matter website
  4. An insightful article on what it means to be an ally
  5. A very comprehensive list of resources from Forbes

 

Posted on

A short reflection on hope

Yesterday Michigan’s stay-at-home order was extended to the middle of May, just as all around the country people find themselves facing longer periods of isolation than expected–and sometimes increased anxiety about health and safety as the COVID-19 pandemic continues in its spread. Personally I have found myself often discouraged in this time, though I also recognize that I have had the blessing so far of health and safety, a gift I do not take for granted. Despite this, I often find myself wondering–when will this end? How will this end?

Not long after my phone buzzed with the government alert to “STAY HOME STAY SAFE”, I was in our kitchen washing a dish at the sink. The weather this week has been pretty typical for a Michigan April–we’ve had everything from gorgeous sunshine to snow. That day had turned out rather pleasant. There were birds chirping and when I had gone outside to grab the mail I could smell the new life blooming on the trees. Back inside, washing that dish, I looked out the window. In our garden  below the window, something caught me eye: a blue jay, picking at a stick in the mulch.

It was a very simple sight and the bird flew away quickly, but for some reason the sight of it overwhelmed me and I kept thinking about it for the rest of the day. The image of that bird had brought vividly to my mind the promise of Matthew 6:26-27–

Look at the birds of the air: they neither sow nor reap nor gather into barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not of more value than they? And which of you by being anxious can add a single hour to his span of life?

All of Matthew 6 is rich and full of promises, but these verses, and those that follow, have always resonated with me. Growing up I was always someone who struggled with worrying. I won’t say anxiety, per se, but I definitely found myself concerned about the future to the point of it overwhelming, paralyzing me. There have been moments every now and then over the past few months where I have found myself falling back into those old patterns, spiraling in my head into feelings of anxiousness that grow ever-tighter until I feel trapped in them. I have had to very consciously choose joy and contentment throughout this period of unknown, as one of my greatest weaknesses is faithfulness in the unknown, when there is not a plan.

But then I remember this verse, and I see the promise of God in Matthew 6. And yesterday I saw that bird. Now, I won’t necessarily say that the bird was a sign from God–but sometimes signs are contingent on how we interpret them, and in that bird I saw a message, a reminder, a signpost of hope.

That blue jay isn’t aware of the COVID-19 panic. He (or she? I don’t know how to tell a bird’s gender) was not anxious about viruses or even about building his (or her) nest or finding his (or her) next meal. I’d venture to say that birds probably don’t have the capacity to experience anxiety. They exist in a world where their needs will be met, as far as they need to be.

But then again…so do we. We just have the added gift (and burden, sometimes) of having some agency in our lives, where we have been given the role of doing what we can to provide for ourselves. But sometimes we run up against something against which we have no power. A global pandemic, if you will. It is in those moments that we will be prompted to anxiety and fear more than ever before.

And even so, God’s promises still stand.

Something like a pandemic makes us brutally aware of our own inabilities, but in times like this God has not changed. He promised to provide for us and His promises are unbreakable. Jesus said that we have no more reason to worry than the birds of the air, and I’m going to trust Him on that.

Posted on

Reflections on a Calling

I’m now a junior in college, and as we’ve transitioned into online classes for (presumably) the rest of our semester, many of us juniors are facing the idea of senior year a bit sooner than we thought we would. At least, I am. I have two (and a quarter) semesters left in college, and by next December I’ll have finished my studies for my major, English, and my minor, Digital Entrepreneurship. I’ll spend my spring semester taking classes of interest and supplemental classes that’ll hopefully give me some hard skills as I go out into my future career.

The idea that within twelve months I’ll be facing graduation, a career, and “real life” is, I won’t lie, a little intimidating. Especially considering how about two years ago I was writing this post, about my freshman year, reflections that still seem so near and recent.

One of the biggest “themes” throughout my time at college has been the idea of calling. It’s something we talk about often at my school: what does it mean to seek your calling as a Christian in a secular world? For a long time I don’t think I necessarily had the right perspective on this. I thought that seeking my calling–seeking how I could honor Christ in my career–meant finding the one career that God had “ordained” for me to take. That by some divine revelation I would one day know that I was “meant” to be a journalist, or an editor, or a copywriter, or a lawyer. And this belief gave me a lot of anxiety.

I never felt that there was, necessarily, one career that I felt “called” towards. But recently I began to wonder if I had been thinking about it wrongly. Perhaps it isn’t that God necessarily calls people to a specific position. Rather, the LORD definitely calls us to use our gifts in a way that bring Him glory and that advance His kingdom. Last night, a friend of mine shared in a Bible study about the parable of the talents. In the Bible, Jesus tells the story of a manager who left his household for a bit, leaving his servants each with a bit of money to steward. Some of these servants took this money and invested it, or used to it earn more. Others hid the money and kept it safe. The servants who honored the master the most were the ones who used this money and got a return on it, taking the gift that had been given and using it to give back to the master.

That’s exactly what we’re called to do with the gifts the LORD has given us. First, if we have been given the gift of salvation, we must be witnesses with that gift, bringing more into His kingdom. But we have also been given other gifts, other “talents”, which we can use to honor Him. For some people, these gifts can be used to meet a very specific need–they might have a more specific and exact career, then, through which they will honor God by pursuing their calling of using their gifts to give back to Him. Other people (and I think I might fall more into this category) might be able to serve God in a really wide variety of careers, finding a diverse set of ways to honor God through the application of the gifts He has given us. I once found that overwhelming, intimidating. But I now see that, too, as a gift.

God opens doors in our lives, yet we have also been given free will for a reason. Over the past few years, God has blessed me with opening a number of doors for various job opportunities and careers, some of which are notable divergences from where I thought I would serve Him. He has opened these doors, but I must be the one who steps through them. That’s what faith is. He is not going to push me through the door. But if we seek to honor Him and seek ways that He has opened doors in our lives, then we might bring Him honor by stepping out in faith and making a choice. Choosing to honor Him in our vocation, because ultimately the calling all of us share is to give glory to God in and through all things.

 

Posted on

Christ’s Constancy

“Jesus Christ is the same yesterday and today and forever.” (Hebrews 13:8). I have been working through the book of Hebrews in my morning devotions and today, as I read through the final chapter of the book, this verse struck me as poignantly applicable.

Considering the context of the world around us, I once again remind myself that I am very blessed and that so far, I have been sheltered and kept safe through this uncertain time. Even as I was sent home to Michigan after my college transitioned into online classes, the most pressing impact this had on my life was social inconvenience, not medical danger or increased occupational hazard. God has been overwhelmingly faithful to me in this time.

As I eased back into life at home, unpacking my clothes, hanging my pictures, setting up a workspace in my room, I began to feel restless. I’m struggling to think of a more specific word that applies to how I felt but restless, or maybe “unmoored”, might be the best I can think of. Despite trying to do my best to maintain perspective, I had to recognize that I was feeling restless and unmoored, or anchorless, in this time and I knew that in recognizing this I had to try to confront the source of the concern.

When I am at school, I have a full day and follow a detailed routine to make sure that I can get everything done. I didn’t realize that I was Type-A until I thought that scheduling times in your calendar to eat and sleep just might not be normal. Coming home this schedule, obviously, has had to readjust drastically. For the first few days back in my old setting, not at school, I milled about, unproductive for the most part. I watched a LOT of Netflix. I wasn’t completely a sloth, thankfully–I organized my bookshelves, wrote some letters, and read a book I had been meaning to get to. But something felt off and I couldn’t put my finger on it. Then over the weekend I realized that I simply needed a routine. Not so much because I wanted to be “in control” but because as a person I am someone who desires order. I just have to be careful of where I look for that order: in something of my own creation, or in the faithfulness of God?

Yesterday, I finally sat down and laid out a daily routine, blocking out my time and days in much the same way that I do at school, but this time with some more hesitation. “Am I just a slave to my schedule?” I asked myself. Ultimately, I decided that (at my best) I am not. But in order for me to be at my  best, I require a routine. At my worst, my schedule controls me. At my best I remind myself that God controls my time, that it does and always has belonged to Him.

Sitting down this morning with my coffee and Bible, reading Hebrews 13, God spoke to me through His Word. I don’t know why we’re always surprised when He does that (or at least, I tend to be). “Jesus Christ is the same yesterday and today and forever.” What a beautiful promise that is. I felt unmoored not because I didn’t have a schedule, but because I wasn’t properly leaning into the promises of Christ’s constancy. In all things He is the same. In all things, He is good.

I would encourage you today to read the rest of Hebrews 13–even the entire book. It is a chapter (and book) filled with convicting challenges, powerful encouragement, and deep spiritual truth. But for now, I want to leave you with the benediction found at the end of Hebrews:

“Now may the God of peace who brought again from the dead our Lord Jesus, the great shepherd of the sheep, by the blood of the eternal covenant, equip you with everything good that you may do his will, working in us that which is pleasing in his sight, through Jesus Christ, to whom be glory forever and ever. Amen.” Hebrews 13: 20-21

Posted on

Meditations on fear, and a hymn

“Where shall I go from your Spirit? Or where shall I flee from your presence?” Such is the promise that comes to us in Psalm 139:7, my favorite psalm, and one full of the richness of the LORD’s love; a psalm that reminds us that before all, through all, and beyond all is God, great, mighty, loving, and beyond our comprehension. The psalm goes on:

“Where shall I go from your Spirit?
Or where shall I flee from your presence?
If I ascend to heaven, you are there!
If I make my bed in Sheol, you are there!
If I take the wings of the morning
and dwell in the uttermost parts of the sea,
even there your hand shall lead me,
and your right hand shall hold me.
If I say, “Surely the darkness shall cover me,
and the light about me be night,”
even the darkness is not dark to you;
the night is bright as the day,
for darkness is as light with you.”

(Psalm 139:7-12, ESV)

This psalm came to mind this morning. Something I needed to hear. The past few weeks for many have been a time of confusion and even fear. I have so far been blessed with shelter and safety, untouched directly or even tangentially by the spread of such an unexpected virus, though I know this could change any day, and I know that others have had another narrative. Many in these past months have had to confront the ultimate far sooner than they imagined, and I think that even those of us who have not been touched directly by the spread of the virus have been given pause. Panic is certainly not a Christian virtue, but empathy is, and all life is precious so all death is tragic. Statistics may be thrown about regarding the supposed severity of this event compared to others but for now I will set those aside to say that grief in the face of something like this is nothing to be ashamed of. Jesus wept when Lazarus died, though He knew He would raise His friend in only a few moments. Jesus wept because all death is wrong, and death should not be.

Before I continue, I will say that I am by no means a medical authority (nothing close, at all–I’m an English major). So I will say nothing about the mechanics of this virus. Nothing I would have to say would be of value, or add anything to the many conversations out there. I am not even going to speak so much about the virus, but rather a bit about my own testimony, and what I have learned from that about fear, trust, and the goodness of God. These thoughts come not from a place of objective authority, but from simply one person who has had a very good life, but a life like all lives filled with bumps of uncertainty and times of great fear.

Years ago, I had a small picture of what it means to face the fear of the unknown. At the age of fourteen, I underwent life-altering spinal reconstructive surgery. Though, to God’s glory, all things went smoothly with the surgery, there was a chance I would come out of the surgery paralyzed or blind or with a number of other complications. There were no complications, for which I will always be thankful. Even so, in that time, I learned what it meant to feel pain. I hope that nothing in my life will ever be as painful as what I lived through that week and the months that followed. And yet I will always be thankful for that week, for that surgery. I had spent years leading up to that surgery angry at God. Why had He not healed me? Why had He not taken from me the spinal deformity that had caused me so much pain and confusion for most of my life? Why was I now experiencing what I could only describe as agony, both physical and emotional as my spine knit itself back together under the hands of doctors. I realized how broken I was and how there was nothing I could do about it.

However–

“For you formed my inward parts;
you knitted me together in my mother’s womb.
I praise you, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made.
Wonderful are your works;
my soul knows it very well.
My frame was not hidden from you,
when I was being made in secret,
intricately woven in the depths of the earth.
Your eyes saw my unformed substance;
in your book were written, every one of them,
the days that were formed for me,
when as yet there was none of them.”

(Psalm 139: 13-16, ESV)

I realized I had been given a gift. Not a burden, but a gift. How many people are so blessed that their bodies are and always will be an inescapable reminder of God’s grace? I will always walk around with the physical scars that remind me of a deep truth: I was born broken and through nothing of my own strength could I make myself whole. And though I prayed for healing, I had to learn to trust that God would answer my prayers, but He would do them in His time and in His way. That way was painful and it involved suffering but it was through this pain that I was reminded that I have no strength of my own, but the LORD is always with me. I came out of the other end of that surgery physically whole in a way I never had been before, but blessed with a deeper gift: I now saw in myself a physical reminder of the humbling power, everlasting grace, and aching beauty of sanctification.

Was I afraid going into the surgery? Absolutely. But did I have to trust the LORD? Yes. Something I have needed to remember countless times in my life: we are creatures who have been given the gift and the burden of feeling things, sometimes so deeply. We are beings of emotion, of passion and pain, love and of fear. I think it is wrong to deny an emotion, even one like fear, because to do so is to deny the solution and the consolation for that fear: that is, God, and the promise of His Son. We must let ourselves acknowledge and feel through our fear so that we do not dwell on it, and so that we remember we must trust God.

So if you now feel fear, remember that in all things God has been, is, and will be with you. There is nowhere you can go to flee from His presence. And there is nothing greater than God. God is greater than fear, than panic, than uncertainty and confusion and pain.

Lastly, I wanted to share the lyrics of the powerful prayer and hymn It Is Well With My Soul, which became a part of my devotions this morning. This hymn was originally composed by Horatio Spafford in 1873. Written not in a time of good fortune, but in a time after he had lost his business, livelihood, and all of his children in a series of horrible catastrophes. I did not know that for a long time, and after learning this, I came to see the hymn for the aching prayer that it is, the words of surrender and of trust even in the midst of great pain, fear, and uncertainty. There are many versions of the hymn out there after 150 years, and I have included one here:

When peace like a river attendeth my way,
When sorrows like sea billows roll;
Whatever my lot Thou hast taught me to say,
“It is well, it is well with my soul!”
It is well with my soul!
It is well, it is well with my soul!

Though Satan should buffet, though trials should come,
Let this blest assurance control,
That Christ hath regarded my helpless estate,
And hath shed His own blood for my soul.

My sin—oh, the bliss of this glorious thought—
My sin, not in part, but the whole,
Is nailed to His Cross, and I bear it no more;
Praise the Lord, praise the Lord, O my soul!

For me, be it Christ, be it Christ hence to live;
If dark hours about me shall roll,
No pang shall be mine, for in death as in life
Thou wilt whisper Thy peace to my soul.

 

My prayer now in my own life is for the peace of Christ to be whispered in my soul. I will praise Him in all things, and I will pray as always, for His goodness and healing in a spiritually and physically broken world. Nothing surprises the LORD, and in and through all things He will be will work His plan.

Posted on

Don’t Lose the Wonder

Merry Christmas! (If a few days late). Christmas is my favorite time of the year. I have always loved it and the traditions that go along with it in my family and in my community. Every year, however, over the past three or so years, Christmas has felt different–or rather, the way I feel about Christmas leading up to it feels different. I think that part of that can be attributed to college. It really can be hard to feel the joy, wonder, and anticipation of Christmas and the advent season when you spend most of your days between Thanksgiving Break and the end of the semester holed up in a classroom or the library studying for finals. But I also think a part of it (that is, not feeling that sense of wonder leading up to Christmas as much now) comes from “growing up.” As we age, our perspective on Christmas changes.

Christmas is a beautiful time of the year, and aside from everything “secular” that has come to surround the holiday, it is an important day in the Christian faith as it commemorates the birth of Christ. As a people we have crafted around this day a series of rich traditions built on love, community, generosity, and hospitality. But deeper than these sentiments are some very key truths: Christmas is about salvation, and about the ultimate gift of Christ coming down as a man to die for our sins. That is beyond any gift we can give to each other.

I think that, as kids, it is difficult for us to comprehend the fullness of the truths behind Christmas. We do, however, as children, experience the love of our families, communities–and the joy of anticipating a gift that we know is to come. As we age, we might not appreciate some of the more material aspects or traditions of Christmas as much (whether that is because we now see some of the stress that goes into the traditions or we are not able to interact with them as much, or some other reason), but we now have the ability to appreciate the deeper wonder behind Christmas: the wonder of the Incarnation.

Perhaps I am unique in this, but I found myself over the past few years simply growing away from some of the childish wonders of Christmas and not growing into the more mature appreciation for what this holiday represents. On Twitter or with friends, the feeling of jadedness about Christmas or the lack of “holiday spirit” or “festiveness” was affirmed as something that just happened as you grew older. But, how could this be right? As I found myself reflecting back on Christmas and some of the thoughts I had begun to develop during the Advent season based on discussions I had with others, I realized, or decided, that as an adult, I really should be in even a deeper wonder at what Christmas means than when I was a child. Are we not called to have faith like a child? I think now is a perfect time for that to apply.

When we were children, we appreciated the “childish” (and by this I don’t mean immature or worthless) things of Christmas. These things are still beautiful and important traditions and can be discovered in a new way as adults–I’ve recently fallen back in love with cheesy Christmas movies! But also now, as adults, we can appreciate the things about Christmas that maybe we could not as children, but we should appreciate them with the same wonder, awe, and joy of children. Is not the LORD coming to Earth as a humble infant so that He might grow up as a human, be tempted by sin, remain pure, and ultimately die for the sins of the world far more wonderful, awe-inspiration, and joy-provoking than the idea of a jolly old elf delivering gifts to all the children of the world? I think it is.

And this Christmas, that idea, of the Incarnation, of the gift of salvation, that filled me with wonder. Though this is something I have believed in for as long as I can remember, and the Christian faith has been a part of my life since before I was born, I felt like I understood the way I interact with my faith a little better this year. I was convicted of a lack of wonder, and reminded that I must take a posture of humble, childlike, awe-filled wonder both during this season of Christmas, and during every day of my life.

So, as this Christmas season is drawing to a close, I wanted to encourage both myself and others to remember this posture of joy and wonder. This is something I hope to carry into the New Year with me, as the gift of salvation is with us every day, not just during the month of December. It is my prayer that you feel the joy of the LORD and the knowledge and assurance of His salvation in your life if you have accepted Him, and that you would live in wonder, and in a longing to share that gift with others as we always share gifts in the time of Christmas.

Posted on

May Is Mental Health Month

Psalm 40: 1-3 (ESV)

I waited patiently for the Lord;
    he inclined to me and heard my cry.
2 He drew me up from the pit of destruction,
    out of the miry bog,
and set my feet upon a rock,
    making my steps secure.
3 He put a new song in my mouth,
    a song of praise to our God.
Many will see and fear,
    and put their trust in the Lord.

It’s been a while since I’ve posted, because I’ve been caught up with schoolwork and other end-of-the-semester things. My second semester at Grove City has been just as good or better than my first, and in a few weeks I hope to post a reflection on my freshman year as a whole–I’ve learned a lot that I want to share. As May starts and Spring finally arrives (our last snow here in Pennsylvania was only a few weeks ago), I wanted to take some time to reflect on the importance of the month of May: May is mental health awareness month.

Mental health awareness is extremely important, especially as we gain the ability to identify and treat more and more mental illnesses. Fortunately, the stigma against mental health issues is slowly going away. However, it’s not yet gone, and I think it is very important and powerful for people with personal testimonies about mental health to speak up. That is why I wanted to write this blog post.

The issue of mental health, and treatment of mental illnesses, and the stigma around it all, are very important to me. For large portions of my adolescent and young adult life, I battled depression. It was a silent battle that went on inside of me for many years before I recognized and identified it. I assumed that my symptoms for depression were just mood swings related to puberty and the normal burdens of adolescence. I didn’t want to burden others with my problems so I didn’t share them with even those closest to me. Once I realized that what I struggled with was probably depression, I didn’t want to talk about it, because I didn’t want anyone to think I was weak. Eventually, however, I realized that I was doing nothing to help myself by holding everything inside me. I was only supporting the cultural stigma against anyone, especially young men, expressing concerns about their mental health.

Young men are encouraged to be strong, to not show their emotions. I completely support encouraging growing young men to be strong, charismatic, and character-driven, but not to a point of discouraging them from expressing their emotions, their feelings, and their fears. Unfortunately, this stigma and this attitude is one that I see often in the Christian community, where too often mental illnesses like depression and anxiety are labeled as signs of sin. And that’s simply not true. I can speak from personal experience and say that, yes, unconfessed sins can contribute to depression, but they are not the ultimate cause. We live in a fallen world. Our minds and our bodies are not perfect, and our brains can get sick just like the rest of our bodies. When we are called to take care of our bodies as God’s temple, that includes our brains.

Having depression or anxiety is not a sign that you do not trust God with your life. Mental illnesses are not punishment for sin. For too long I tried to simply “pray” my depression away, while ignoring the very people and resources God placed in my life to help me. In the past year, I have found incredible peace in the LORD, much of which is related to the fact that I have humbled myself and sought help from others. In this, I realized that I am not weak.

I can look back and identify depression in my life going back at least four years, a constant internal battle against my own mind. And that battle has not made me weak. If anything, that battle, and more importantly, winning that fight, has made me stronger. Nothing is more a sign of strength than admitting that you need help. Admitting that you can’t do everything on your own. Realizing that you don’t have to.

I do think I have conquered my depression. While there are still times where I experience depressive episodes, our bouts of anxiety, I no longer let them consume me. They do not rule my life. I have learned to recognize my own worth and value in the LORD, and come to appreciate the resources God has put in my life.

Constantly, during this fight, I had to remind myself that I am not alone. And that’s something I want to say to everyone who is struggling with this: you are not alone. You are loved. People care about you, and can and will help you. Seeking help does not make you weak–it makes you strong. To people who haven’t struggled with mental illnesses, but want to be there for those who do struggle, I say: listen. Sometimes that’s all someone needs–someone to listen to them. Don’t invalidate someone’s feelings by insisting that it is “nothing” or “is all in their head.” That will only discourage them from seeking help. I would encourage everyone to take this month to educate themselves. Too often we believe stereotypes about mental illnesses, rather than seeking the truth. Knowledge and understanding will inform our approach to mental health. Mental illnesses are not easily overcome, but they do not need to define you. Again, I would encourage anyone who struggles to seek help, and always remember that you are not alone.

Posted on

Reflections on My First Semester

August 24th, 2017: The day I moved into my new home – Grove City College, PA. That’s not a day I’ll ever forget, from the moment we pulled into campus to the moment I said a very-nearly-tearful goodbye to my parents. Leading up to that day, I had gradually grown more and more numb to the idea that I was actually packing up and leaving the little world in which I had spent my entire life, and moving to someplace six hours away from home, where I didn’t know anyone. I knew I should be nervous, but I didn’t feel it yet.

The nerves hit, though, when I started actually moving in.

Instantly I was faced with a thousand new scenarios. I met dozens of people in the span of a few minutes, and all of us were trying to act as if everything was perfectly okay. I’m sure some people were perfectly okay, just like I’m sure others were emotional wrecks, and there were others like me…floating somewhere in the middle.

And then, before I knew it, my parents were gone, and I was on my own. The college experience had started.

The basic strategy was to bombard freshmen with so many meetings, mixers, seminars, events, lectures, luncheons, and more that no one really had time to think. By the time all the events were done, we were so tired that we easily fell asleep. I needed that week to adjust and to realize that we were all in the same boat. And it was during that week that I met some of the people who would quickly become my closest friends.

The semester continued at a break-neck speed. Each day seemed like an eternity, and then each week passed like a moment. Almost before I knew it, I was taking my finals and packing up to come home. One of my last days there, I was talking to a friend, and we agreed that the semester had gone by quickly, “But I feel I’ve known you guys for years,” she said, and I agreed.

Now that I’ve had almost a month to rest, recover, and reflect, I wanted to get into writing some of the things I learned my first semester of college, as well as some general reflections. Ask just about anyone and they’ll tell you that your first few months at college are life-changing, and that they can either be amazing…or pretty terrible. Fortunately, I had an overall  wonderful experience at college. Now, does that mean that my first semester was perfect? By no means. There were days and weeks when I really struggled with grades, or relationships, or mental health, but I wouldn’t wish for it to have gone any other way. It was those struggles, as well as all the great moments, that worked together to shape and grow me.

All that being said, here are some things I’ve learned:

Self-identity: This first semester, I came to understand myself a lot better. I know it’s cliche, but it’s true. When you’re placed in a wholly new setting, you learn who you are, and I learned that pretty quickly. I had met a few people from my class before going to GCC, but I didn’t know any of them well enough to consider them friends. I had, essentially, a blank slate. No one knew me from my past, and I could in theory be whoever I wanted to be. All I wanted to be was myself, though, and so that’s what I did. And I really learned what it meant for me to be myself. I discovered flaws I need to work on, and things I can be proud of. Overall, I would say I came out of this semester a more self-confident, self-loving person.

I also learned the importance of owning my faith. Would I go to church? How seriously would I take my devotional and prayer life? How exactly was I going to live out my faith in my everyday life? I decided immediately that I wouldn’t skip church, and that I would have to make devotions a priority. I would have to schedule that quiet time just as I would budget my time for homework. Without my faith as my foundation, I don’t think I would’ve made it through this semester. Observing others, I realized I still had a lot of growth ahead of me, but I also regained an appreciation for my own testimony and the work God has done (and is doing) in my life.

Relationships/friends: As I’ve shared before, I was worried about making friends going into college. But, God answered that prayer almost immediately. You know that old clip of Oprah going “You get a car! You get a car!”? It felt almost like God was going “Here’s a great friend! And there’s a great friend! And there’s another friend!”, because within days I had formed some of the closest friendships of my life. With this, I learned to love people at their worst and their best, and to let people love me when I was at my worst. Adjusting to college is going to be an emotional time no matter where you’re from, and I know I had my fair share of “worst” moments. I had to learn to let people in during these moments, instead of shutting them out. I learned how to care for others and be there for them in each unique way they needed.

I went into college single, and so did most of my friends, and we all quickly discovered an interesting aspect of “Small Christian college” culture: the infamous ring by Spring. Though mostly used ironically, this expression is indicative of a subtle pressure to be in a committed relationship. While at public universities, people might experience the pressure to be a part of the hookup culture; you don’t feel that at smaller Christian colleges (at least not to the same extent). But there’s a different pressure, and one that’s almost as dangerous. The unsaid belief that if you aren’t in a loving, committed, Christ-centered relationship, then there must be something wrong with you. As someone who is still happily single, I can tell you that said idea isn’t true.  It did take me some time to accept that. I saw many friends in healthy, wonderful relationships and I wanted that (and I still do). But God showed me, again and again, that I was a complete and valuable person without being in a relationship. I realize now that it’s a good thing I was single this first semester, because otherwise I probably wouldn’t have made as many friends.

Self-care/mental health: You’d be hard-pressed to find a group of people more universally stressed-out and exhausted than college students. We’re under immense amounts of pressure in a variety of areas, and it can be hard to cope. I quickly learned that I would need to find ways to deal with stress and anxiety. Those methods are different for everyone, but for me it meant very intentionally setting aside time for rest (unless it was unavoidable, I didn’t do homework on Sundays), and talking to others about my anxiety, whether that was my parents, or a school counselor, or a close friend.

College students are notorious for out-of-whack sleep schedules, and I’m no different. In high school, I usually functioned well off a consistent 7 or 8 hours a night, generally going to bed around 11:30 and waking up around 7. But once college hit, and with it, mountains of homework and a blossoming social life, I found myself staying up to 1, 2, or even 3 in the morning finishing homework, only to get up at 7 every morning to make it to my early-morning classes. I found myself averaging 5 hours of sleep a night. At first I thought I was fine, but I realized eventually that this lack of sleep was doing nothing good for the other areas of my life. I started to make intentional decisions to go to bed, even if I hadn’t finished all of my homework. Once I started doing that, my ability to focus, and manage my time, skyrocketed.

* * *

Has college changed me? Yes. I’m still myself, but I’ve matured and I’ve grown. I’m more motivated to succeed, but I’m also more able to accept my limits. I’m more self-confident, while also more self-aware of my flaws. Yet I’ve only learned to love myself more because of that. I’m a more loving and forgiving person, and I’ve really learned the importance of listening. I’ve learned to deal with bad grades, and hard assignments, and difficult people, and situations that you just can’t fix and have to accept. I’ve learned that the world is so much bigger than I thought before, and I want to explore it as much as I can.

My second semester starts in just over a week and I can honestly say that I am excited to go back and see what this semester has in store.

Posted on

An Entertainment-Based Culture

 

Our culture is oversaturated in entertainment. It is inescapable. Everything from our news feeds to our Netflix queues is designed to entertain us in some way. This preoccupation with being entertained is starting to have visible consequences.

Entertainment is, in itself, not a bad thing. The problem arises now that entertainment has become the lens through which we perceive our entire world. No longer is entertainment reserved to the television, or the novel. We want to be entertained by our classes, our news stories, our church services, our politics.

But, why is this dangerous? Why shouldn’t we seek entertainment from all these areas?

Because often when we are entertained, we are passive. Entertainment pours into us and requires nothing back. I would argue that this causes us to lose our ability to think critically. We don’t need to, because we are told what to think. We become susceptible to the agendas often contained in shows, movies, news stories. Visual media, by its very nature, is biased, because it can select what parts of a story to show. Now, this can be a useful tool when telling a fictional story. But it is incredibly dangerous when it comes to something like reporting the news.

Now, I need to acknowledge that some forms of entertainment do encourage critical thinking. A great movie or fantastic book will stretch your beliefs and stimulate your mind and encourage you to think deeply on the issues it addresses and the questions it raises. But these movies, these books, are generally not as popular as, say, Reality TV, which does not require any sort of critical thinking. It is mindless.

Passive entertainment would not be so dangerous if it hadn’t bled into other areas of our culture. Specifically politics (and religion, but that’s a topic for another post). Look at the 2016 Presidential Election: it was controversial and filled with scandals, but it was a product of our culture. It’s what we asked for, even if we didn’t know it. We no longer seek out political candidates who can eloquently express their opinions on modern world issues. No—we seek out celebrities. That’s what the two major candidates of the election were, even if not in the traditional sense.

We idolize celebrities because they are entertaining. They have become our cultural leaders. Many celebrities offered opinions on the election (and other current issues), and many people listened to them as authoritative sources. I know that many celebrities are educated people, and can speak wisely on world issues, but just as many of them are as unable to articulate a clear opinion as the average person. Nevertheless, because of their high exposure by the media, we listen to and repeat their views.

President Trump’s election opened the door for a relatively new idea. The idea that anyone can sit in the Oval Office, even without political experience. I did a quick Google search for “celebrities for President” and I was shocked by how many articles had been written in complete seriousness discussing which movie stars or talk show hosts would make fantastic candidates for the 2020 election. The top ones: Oprah Winfrey, Tom Hanks, and Dwayne “the Rock” Johnson.

While many of these celebrities are fine people who have done great things for the world, they do not belong in politics, just as politicians do not belong in entertainment.

I don’t know where our culture is headed next. I don’t have the wisdom, experience, or tools necessary to predict its direction over the upcoming years, but from looking back, I can see that culture swings in a pendulum. It goes to one extreme, and then swings to the other. I think we are approaching the entertainment-extreme, and will likely swing back in the other direction in the next few decades. I stand somewhere between cultural optimism and cultural pessimism. I believe that humanity is born sinful, but is ultimately redeemable.

As always, if you liked this post, feel to like it on Instagram, WordPress, or Facebook! You can also follow me on Instagram @stuartrozendal_author. If you’d like to receive regular email updates from this blog’s activity, please subscribe by submitting your email address on the right.

Posted on

Negative Narcissism: “My Problems Are Worse Than Yours”

I can’t count the number of times I have witnessed and participated in conversations that essentially boil down to “my problem is worse than your problem, and thus I am better than you.” I remember conversations like this going back all the way to early elementary school, when our teachers tried to get us to stop comparing our problems, because it “wasn’t nice”. As I wasn’t particularly inclined towards deep introspection as an eight-year-old (I don’t think many eight-year-olds are), this wasn’t something I thought seriously about until the past few years.

In high school, especially, I saw the problem of “negative narcissism” escalate. So many times I found myself insisting that I had it worse than my fellow students; that I had more homework, or that I had a harder test coming up. And I wasn’t the only one guilty of this. Just about every student talks like this. And it’s not just students. You hear talk like this all around you. Someone had a rough commute to work? Well, it wasn’t as bad as yours!

By insisting that our problems are worse than those around us, we assert a false martyrdom and imply that we have, by our own strength, risen above whatever trials we face, while simultaneously disregarding the legitimate troubles of our peers.

This is an issue.

I chose the term “negative narcissism” because I felt it summarized this concept pretty well. Narcissism is craving admiration, and “negative narcissism” is craving that admiration for things that are, well, “negative”. Negative narcissism is problematic for a number of reasons. It creates an atmosphere of jealous competition for who has it worse. It makes us callous to the genuine issues those around us face, and gives us an attitude of tragic self-superiority.

I had to really confront this issue in my own life my senior year of high school. I had taken on an admittedly heavy load of classes, extracurriculars, and work, but they were all things I had committed to and freely chosen to do and thus I had no right to complain about them. However, I did complain about them. Extensively. I lamented continually to anyone who would listen about how I, tragic, heroic me, had taken these many responsibilities on, and how I was being tried and tested by them, but I was, despite all odds, overcoming them. Finally it came to a point where my parents told me that I had no right to complain about this and either I had to shape up or drop some of the responsibilities. I realized then that I didn’t actually dislike being involved in so many things, I just needed the affirmation of others, and I wanted them to recognize and admire how much I was struggling.

I am not saying that in the few months since I have graduated I have overcome negative narcissism in my own life. It’s something I still struggle with daily, but I have become conscious of it, at least, in my own life. It is important to recognize that we all struggle with things, and maybe, in our own eyes, our struggles are “worse” than someone else’s. But that doesn’t mean we are better or worse than them because our trials are different. Ultimately, we need to encourage each other in brotherly love and build one another up selflessly, with no agenda.

As always, if you liked this post, feel to like it on Instagram, WordPress, or Facebook! You can also follow me on Instagram @stuartrozendal_author. If you’d like to receive regular email updates from this blog’s activity, please subscribe by submitting your email address on the right. (A note to past subscribers: your subscription was removed when my site’s domain was updated, so you will need to re-subscribe).