The Meanest Dad in the World

Today ended up being a pretty good day. I came home and was speaking with Lena about her day at school and I heard her speak and thought, "Wow, she speaks so well for a girl who has only been regularly speaking English for just over two years." During her retelling of today’s events she got on the subject of her English class and told me how she only got one answer wrong on her quiz about nouns, verbs, and adjectives. And I immediately felt a strange mixture of pride and guilt – pride that she did well on a second day of school pop quiz of something I didn’t think she could even pronounce (the word adjective. I’ve never heard her say it correctly and today she didn’t even pause in her story when saying that) much less identify among a list. And guilt because I’m pretty much the meanest dad in the world.

Those that know me well know that I regularly call myself “the meanest dad in the world” in jest when I make my kids do something awful like setting the table, emptying the dishwasher, and other times when I forbid them from drinking gallons of soda, playing in traffic, or jumping off the deck railing. But in this case I’m quite serious because while today ended on a good note it started off terribly. It started with a continuation of my and Lena’s battle from last night over homework. Again this morning I reminded Lena that all her stalling and sitting at her desk and staring at the paper “pretending to try” last night was for nothing. That if she had only done the simple task I asked her to do, summarize a note from her teacher – like I have showed her a hundred times, she could have spent the evening playing instead of sitting at her desk crying. If she would only try, instead of “try not to try” we wouldn’t have these kinds of fights. After our talk Lena stormed off teary-eyed to school but as angry as I was about Lena’s behavior I was proud of myself. Not once in all of my lecturing and ire did I raise my voice in anger, which is a new goal of mine. Success! But the problem with my attitude and my little speech is…

It’s complete and utter bullshit.

Lena lived in an orphanage until she was ten and we’ve come to find that what other parents who adopted older kids said is true: That each year a child spends in an orphanage can equate to two years of unlearning some of the socially-unacceptable, yet completely necessary for survival in a Lord of the Flies atmosphere, behaviors they developed there. And one of the behaviors that Lena learned was to stall until the teacher went away. However, I’ve discovered that whether that behavior was learned or just something that evolved from an undiagnosed learning disability Lena does not do this consciously. Again: Lena does not freeze up, become physically incapable of proper speech and unable to repeat even the simplest of sentences of her own free will. It has taken a while to wrap my head around this but it is true. This maddeningly frustrating behavior that causes both me and my wife to turn into unhinged lunatics is not from her conscious effort. The truly shameful thing about my actions with Lena is that I know full well that the problem is actually my approach since all her teachers seem to be able to educate her of things that I am clearly incapable (see that word “adjective”? Yeah…) without causing her to freeze up as happens with me. Despite my previous observations, my learned knowledge, my previous testing of this theory, my 15 years of formal pattern analysis experience, my 10 years of experience in leading all manner of Soldiers in all manner of situations, and 32 years of knowledge of the saving grace of Jesus… I still found it in my heart to berate, belittle, taunt, and chastise my daughter. Then I got a night of sleep to think about what I had done and come up with a way to apologize and do my job as a parent better. And then I woke up fresh this morning and berated, belittled, taunted, and chastised my daughter.

Again.

I am the meanest dad in the world and yet in my time of darkest self-hate and well-deserved self-flagellation I am reminded of Jesus’ compassion. I was adopted into Jesus’ family at the age of five and it took the requisite 2 years for each year of being an orphan for me to shed all my institutionalized behaviors. But by the age of 15 I was a model Christian and I’ve lived life beatifically and in the same manner of Christ ever since. I am always kind to the people around me, I help them, do kind things for them, love them unconditionally, and dispense wisdom when offering answers to their questions… except, of course, when I verbally assault my daughter.

And yet despite being shown the right way to be like Christ a hundred times, reading of His example a hundred times, and seeing Him modeled in others a hundred times, I still don’t get it. I daily fail miserably in every way imaginable – even with my own kids – yet Jesus does not berate, punish, or withhold grace from me. Furthermore He has never belittled me nor taunted me and has only gently chastised me in the most loving of ways. Jesus still loves me. In the 32 years since I’ve accepted the shocking fact that I am a sinner and that He died for my sins, Jesus has only heaped blessings upon me.

I was a poor kid from a farm town and He gave me a glorious house, in one of the most expensive areas, in one of the most expensive countries, in the world. I grew up a tongue-tied goofball, had a mullet until I was 19, and couldn’t get a date to save my life in high school (I believe there were 17 consecutive rejections at one point) yet He gave me this most beautiful and intelligent woman who after 14 years is still proud to call me “husband.” I sucked as a squad leader, platoon sergeant, got fired as a platoon leader, and almost left the Army but Jesus’ grace allowed me to work through my issues and make a comeback, do a fantastic job as a Commander and become respected by my peers, seniors, and most importantly my subordinates as a leader. And finally when I, at the age of 32, conflated the compassion, love, and grace of Jesus and the people that surrounded me with my own sense of self-accomplishment and told a father who was working three jobs in order to have enough money to earn a college degree that he should “just work harder and you can get to where I am”… Yes, I did... And Jesus still loved me enough to work through that completely unwarranted view of His gifts.

Then He blessed me with a desire to be more compassionate, more loving, and more graceful and to change. He encouraged me to truly empathize with those around me and then used me for a positive purpose. The biggest part of that transformation was my decision to adopt and even though I have admittedly and obviously mucked that all up on many occasions He still hasn’t treated me the way that I treated my daughter last night and this morning. He continues to shower down more love, more compassion, more empathy, more grace, and more forgiveness and for that I am forever grateful.

So this afternoon when Lena asked me to help her with her homework I told her no. As she stormed away I demanded that she return to me and obediently she did. As I realized that I was setting the wrong tone I paused… reflected… and started over. I started with the words, “I’m sorry,” and continued on to tell her that I was sorry because I truly was the meanest dad in the world and that it was absolutely not her fault. I explained that I’m not kind enough or compassionate enough to help her with her homework without being mean, and that is why I can't help her with her homework. Then I asked her to forgive me and because maybeI don’t completely suck as a dad, but definitely because Jesus still continues to bless me even though I don't deserve it, she did. And then she told me about her day and how in English…

Why Does This Have to be so Hard?

Those of you who have ever asked me a question along the lines of, “If your God is so loving and merciful, why do bad things happen to good people?” you know that I tend to not pull any punches. You will not hear me tell of how God is using someone’s situation as an object lesson for someone else, and you definitely will not hear me talk about how “it’s all going to work out for the better.” The answer you’ll get is “because He is God. You know – ALL POWERFUL and ALL KNOWING and WISE and WITH HIS OWN AGENDA.” Job, you know the guy who followed God with all his heart and all his mind and did everything God asked him to do and was struck with the worst the world had to offer, that Job, covered it pretty well when he said, “The LORD gave and the LORD has taken away; may the name of the LORD be praised” (Job 1:21). And for a lot of last year I lived my life with a “what are you gonna do?” kind of attitude when it came to life since it seemed like I couldn’t catch a break.

It was when I walked into church (grudgingly) one morning and the lead singer broke into a song entitled “Where is the Love?” that a switch tripped in my head. I was reminded that I’m not a Christian because God holds all the cards and I’d best be praising him up front for fear of displeasing him. No, I’m a Christian because God loved me first and sent His Son Jesus to die for me (John 3:16) and I want the people around me to know that by showing that same kind of love to them. And it hit me: I wasn’t showing that love. No one had any clue that I was a Christian from observing me because my actions and my attitude were not those of a loving response, but those of someone doing the bare minimum. I was so caught up in my own pity party focusing on the Majesty and the Glory and the Unquestionable Supreme and Divine Will of God as it applied to my life that I’d lost sight of why I even answer to His Mightiness in the first place. Where is the Love, indeed? Not showing in my life.

Life is a bit better, now. A lot of the issues that were going on at that time that were causing me to slump forward and plod through my life of drudgery and pain have been solved; and if not solved then in the process. However there is one issue that keeps coming up and that is my oldest daughter, Lena. There is a previous blog entry of mine that covers some earlier problems, namely bullying, with which I was dealing. And praise be to Almighty God. The little girl that was stealing from her brother and sisters, and bullying everyone around her has turned around. At school she is the shining example of “kindness to others” and at home she is slowly buying into the idea of “being kind; loving the people around you; helping them; and doing nice things for them”. However with all her behavioral advances there still exists a problem. A major problem.

She doesn’t care about school at all. She does the absolute bare minimum required and only with serious prodding by Jenn and I. Every night at the homework table is a battle. On the weekends when we require all the kids to do a little extra work in order to improve their weaknesses, she cannot express her displeasure enough. In many cases she will take the homework and sit at her desk for 2 or 3 hours without doing anything at all until either Jenn and I spoon feed her the answers, or one of us blows up, there are tears, and then the homework gets completed in about 10 minutes after the crying stops. In many cases she knows the answers and will simply refuse to answer correctly. Furthermore, after a year of school and all the extra emphasis, time, effort, and worksheets we have expended on the problem her standardized test scores DROPPED. Not dropped relative to her age group. But dropped from her own personal test scores at the beginning of the year. And so I find myself asking God, “Why does this have to be so hard?”

From the beginning of this adoption process, for the first time (and I’m guessing the only time) in my life I knew without a doubt that the adoption was GOD’S WILL. No kidding, read my blog post from that time. Throughout the two-year process it was clear that the hand of God was on us as roadblock after roadblock evaporated and we were able to accomplish things that no one else was able to do. To this day, almost two years later, only a handful of people have been able to follow in our footsteps. So why, God? Why, as I walk in your will, is this so #$%^ hard?

On the afternoon I received notice of my oldest’s test scores I was driving to pick her up from dance. The plan was to confront her and explain the error of her ways. I had a couple object lessons planned and a couple logic traps all ready to spring on her to help bring her to the light. Things like, “If daddy just stood around in the gym do you think he would get stronger? Then why do you think you can simply walk into school without working and get smarter?” It was going to be a continuation of months of warfare on the education front and I was frankly stoked. I finally had concrete proof that I was right about EVERYTHING regarding school and studying and now I could convince my 12 year old daughter to truly apply herself. And that stupid/wonderful song I had heard in church months past drifted through my brain, “Where is the Love?” Yes, Lena is not trying as hard as she could be. Yes, there are many things that she can do that she is not doing that require me as a parent to get involved. However, in this moment of clarity, this moment of quiet reflection and as the words “Where is the Love” and “You’re doing it wrong” quietly flitted through the back of my head I couldn’t help but think about Jesus.  

While on this earth Jesus unabashedly loved those around Him; particularly His disciples. These were the guys that had all an all-access pass to God and yet they JUST. DIDN’T. GET IT. And Jesus loved them. The wonderful, colorful, and fickle people of Judea followed Jesus, begged for his miracles, didn’t like a lot of his sermons, and ultimately decided to have him killed. And Jesus loved them. Jesus kept giving, and giving, and loving, and giving, and sharing to everyone, even up to that night in Gethsemane when after sweating blood and probably asking His Dad “Why does this have to be so hard?” more than once, He once again showed love and compassion to both a Roman soldier and to his idiot follower Peter who STILL. DIDN’T. GET IT. Furthermore, a couple millennia later Jesus did the same for me when I took a stroll on the not-approved-for-Christian-consumption path. And Jesus still loved me. Not only did He love me in spirit he also blessed me with an excellent wife a great job, and so many other things that I in no way, shape, or form deserved.  

So after reflecting on all of that I decided to drop my plan of attack and went with Love. You see, there is a lot of tough love in our house and in my opinion that is a good thing. Just as God will remain ALL-POWERFUL and he should be feared and obeyed because HE IS GOD, Lena will have to do homework (and summer school). But since I’m factoring God into this little plan I can’t forget about Jesus. While Jesus did use tough love, he also used a lot of sacrificial love and a lot of “just because I love you” kind of love and it’s those other types of love that have been lacking in my house for a little while. It’s time to search my soul and find out exactly where those other kinds of love are. Because it’s not the knowledge of an all-powerful God, but the mercy, love, and joy of Christ that made me a Christian. So I’m going to make a bold assumption that I’ve been doing it wrong up until this point and that it will be my mercy, love, and joy that will help make my daughter care about school.

Snow Day

Last night before we went to bed Jenn and I made the assumption that due to the snow that school would be closed. We were right. Now, normally a snow day is a bit of a cause for concern for us because just because Howard County shuts down their schools does not mean that my office or Jenn’s office will close. It also means that one of us is usually left holding the proverbial bag of kid-watching. However today we were both already on vacation so it was no big deal. In fact while normally I’m kind of a grump when I get “stuck” home watching the kids all day I am taking this time to relax, enjoy the time around the kids, and make a concentrated effort to maybe be a bit less irritable; almost like a resolution of sorts. So today I will try to enjoy my day, I will spend time happily with the kids, I will relax, I will not go to the gym, and I will indulge in one last day of vacation and on this last day of vacation I resolve that I will live with more compassion to my family. Because if there is one thing that I learned in 2013 it is that I lack compassion in so many areas.

This lack of compassion has been an overwhelming theme in my year. Although things started out pretty tame it was about the time that we moved back to the U.S. that just about everything began to grate on my nerves. And unfortunately that grating had the most impact on my wonderful children and wife – those who have suffered the most of my impatience, my surliness, my bursts of seemingly uncontrollable anger, and my general disdain for all things fun. Many moments this year I have had to force myself to enjoy things that should have been considered fun: Trips to the County Fair, traveling to see relatives, playing games with the kids, and other moments that I should have been cherishing I instead had to grit my teeth, slap a smile on my face, and try to enjoy them. There were very few times this year when I was honestly joyful. Most of the times I had to work extremely hard at maintaining the appearance of peace and joy and many many other times I failed miserably.

At many points I had long conversations with myself about this as I was mostly aware of how unbearable I was being. I tried to reconcile my actions with my feelings with the feelings of those around me and I never could. I always came back to the realization that I was being a jerk and that I had to work harder and sacrifice more of my time, energy, and money in order to keep peace in the home. That was my solution: sacrifice more in the hopes that my heart would soften. I had hope that seeing the joy in my kids and wife would bring a little joy back to my heart and then I could get back to being a “good dad.” So I sacrificed more and I grit my teeth harder as I smiled wider. I spent more money that we didn’t really have in order to spend more time with the kids. I gave up personal time that I felt I needed in order to spend more time with my kids. I prayed FERVENTLY that I God would increase my personal resources so I could pour more of them into my family. Additionally I spent more time with the kids trying to help them with their homework, more time assisting Jenn in running the house so she could have time for her job. I was sacrificing and that was what I told God: “I’m sacrificing, God. Just like Jesus did on the cross. I’m living a Christian life so could you please help me out here? I’m running out of Schlitz and I need your help.”

Those were hard, hard days when I was doing everything right and I was working so hard and I just didn’t feel or see anything coming back from the big guy. My talks with Jesus were decidedly one-sided and on more tangible level I was failing miserably. My temper got shorter, my voice got louder, my patience got thinner, and my heart got harder. I stopped writing not for lack of ideas but for lack of will to put those ideas on paper (or digits as is the case). My inspiration was gone and my willingness to even TRY at being a “good dad” was gone. I continued to make sacrifices of my time and effort “for the kids” in the hopes that with enough repetition I might find joy in the habit but for the most part I knew that I needed something else. I had no idea what that “something else” was but I knew I didn’t have it. I was also losing at being a “good dad” and settled for the “I hope he’s not as angry tonight” dad. So in one of my more… ahem… spirited discussions with Jesus I may have possibly kind of yelled and swore and got all self-righteous with the God of the Universe.

Now, I’m not saying that my approach was correct (in fact I’ll humbly remind you all that I am the sinner of sinners and the product of an inexplicably deep fountain of grace) but I did get an answer. Jesus, in his best Jeremy Clarkson impression called me an idiot. More specifically he hit me up with Matthew9:13. Usually this passage is used when someone is trying to illustrate how Christians are urged to love others more and correct others less. But in this case it hit me hard because much like the Pharisees I had been sacrificing many things in the hopes of a good relationship. They had been doing it with God and I had been doing it with my family. Jesus reminded me that the best way to be a good dad was to show mercy and compassion to my family and worry less about sacrificing for them. Because sacrificing time and money and even energy is relatively easy. That’s the path that the Pharisees chose and the path that Jesus avoided. Jesus calls us to empathy and understanding in order to bestow mercy and grace – arguably much more difficult tasks. I realized that all my sacrifice was building resentment for those whom I love the most and that I was “doing it wrong.” For example I was so focused on driving the girls all over Columbia in order to get to their dance lessons that I missed the fact that they LOVED the extra time we spent together (when I wasn’t swearing at the other cars on the road and was instead just talking about life or music or funny stuff). Another example is that I was so focused on sacrificing my time helping Lena and Sujin with their English homework and struggling to help them get perfect that I missed the fact that both girls’ behavioral issues were rapidly eroding away and that I was closer to them as a father than I thought possible in only a year.

So in this New Year I am consistently seeking to know the hearts of my kids and wife. I want simply to understand their point of view and work less on sacrificing for them (outside of the love and empathy required) and more on showing mercy, understanding, compassion, and grace. I firmly believe that Jesus’ actions in the gospel – the ones that caused throngs of people to follow him, believe his words, and inspired them to try to act like him – are the same actions I need to embody in order to lead my family. The people of Jesus’ time did not follow him because He sacrificed for them. They followed Him because He loved them, He taught them, He showed empathy and compassion for them, and He truly had their best interests at heart. So let that be a lesson to me and to you.

Asymmetric Spiritual Warfare

     While I was growing up I was introduced to Christian Rock by some friends at church. There were quite a few different styles all equivalent to some of the mainstream artists of the day to include Steve Taylor (Weird Al), D.C. Talk (Beastie Boys), Amy Grant (Belinda Carlisle/Tiffany), Michael W. Smith (Peter Cetera), Carmen (Henry Rollins post Rollins Band), Tourniquet (death-metal) and my all-time favorite Petra (pick your hair band). My dad (who reads this blog and will either chuckle at this or shake his head and sigh deeply) still referred to all of Christian Rock as “the screams of Satan” even though it was Christian because electric guitars and hair band metal were not the way he was raised to praise Jesus – but I digress. I had a couple favorite albums by Petra but the one that I automatically think about when I hear “Petra” is the Album “This Means War.” In fact in a fit of inspirational genius I just purchased the album from iTunes and am currently rocking out to it. It is so fantastically hair band awesome I know why I liked it so much. The whole album is about, you guessed it, spiritual warfare in quite the literal sense.  That album sings and plays on numerous different themes we hear in church on a regular basis: Put on the full armor of God; be prayer warriors; be available to God’s call; we each fight the good fight in our own ways; etc. So I grew up wanting to be a warrior for the Lord, in fact I had the t-shirt and everything. Somewhere along the way I must have gotten my wires crossed because I ended up enlisting in the U.S. Army as opposed to God’s Army and in 2005 I found myself in Iraq… yes folks, it’s time for some war stories.

Very important qualification that I want to make up front: This post is not about Lieutenant Galstad. This is an allegory. The fact that I am in this story is completely inconsequential to the message I’m trying to convey. I am DEFINITELY not trying to put myself on a pedestal because as you will see this post is quite self-deprecating. As my friend most eloquently stated once: Jesus Saves. I’m no Jesus. On with the war story…

     When we arrived in Ad Dawr, our first area, one of the first things we did was go for a little area-familiarization tour. And of course that tour was interrupted by excitement so I spent my first day on the ground doing exciting things like shooting locks off houses with shotguns, clearing rooms, and running over donkeys with armored Humvees. The unit as a whole started off driving around in tanks, setting up checkpoints, and generally trying to keep the peace. Since I was one of two assistant intelligence officers it was my job to identify and find the bad guys and then send our Soldiers out to get them. After a couple weeks of getting acquainted with the area our intelligence shop got pretty good at finding the bad guys. Meanwhile the Squadron Commander started to change things up a bit. He started to really truly engage with our local hosts. He started to invite them onto the FOB, talk to them, find out what they needed, go visit them at their houses, and promise and deliver money to them for projects. There was a distinct lack of talk of finding bad guys and I also took issue with giving money to the local leaders because they were all corrupt and that money would them be used to fund operations against us… and me. But I was very junior and was not in any position to argue with the boss so I saluted, moved out, and continued to find the bad guys while the boss was out dealing with the local sheiks and civic leaders.

     Eventually our unit, due in no small part to the excellent intelligence section, had calmed our first area of operations. We had found our #1 bad guy, attacks were way down compared to the rest of the theater, the local Iraqi Army unit was getting better, and there were other places to use our expertise. Our unit was ordered to move and as a farewell gift my boss put together one last project for the local leaders: he turned our entire base over to them and gave plans and money to turn it into a factory to create jobs for the local community. I thought that was a pretty decent going away gift. We said goodbye to everyone in Ad Dawr and headed to our new assignment, Muqdadiyah, one of the most unstable and violent areas in all of Iraq at the time. Muqdadiyah had it all, Sunni on Shia on Kurd violence; lots of attacks against the Iraqi Army; regular mortar attacks; corrupt government; areas that if entered would guarantee a firefight; basically Iraq 2006 in a nutshell. There was also, as we would discover, a then-quiet minority who were actively seeking to stop the violence.

     Once again we took a little time to learn the area but right away I noticed that the Squadron Commander took no time to start getting to know the leaders. From the beginning there was a shift far less “find the bad guys” and a lot more “let’s work on building this area back up,” despite the fact that there was roughly 1000% more attacks and violence in this area than in our previous area. I was still working the “find the bad guys” angle of all of this and we were EXTREMELY busy with ongoing operations so the boss consorting with the enemy (as I saw it) was of even less concern to me than before. However, one morning I was providing intel support to one of the units out rolling around the battlefield.

     The unit called in on the radio that they were at a Sheik’s house and that the Sheik’s name matched that of a name on their target list. I tried to find the target packet for the Sheik but I couldn’t find it. The Intelligence Officer (remember, I was only one of two assistants) was out of the headquarters and my counterpart had just gone to bed after an 18 hour shift and none of my Soldiers knew the answer to the question, “should we arrest this Sheik?”. The leader on the ground was losing patience and I made the “safe” decision to have the unit arrest the Sheik and bring him in. Wrong answer, Lieutenant. Not only was the Sheik not the same guy as the name on the list, but this particular Sheik had been working with the Squadron Commander on the “calming the violence” campaign. We now call that campaign “The Sunni Awakening” and it was that initiative that I, single-handedly, almost aborted. And I almost aborted it because I was stuck with the “kill or capture the bad guy” mindset while my boss was desperately trying to get the unit into a true counter-insurgency mindset. It was only after my boss apologized profusely and ate a lot of humble pie that the Sunni Awakening continued in Muqdadiyah.

     Welcome back from Iraq. We’re here in 2013 and now I’m going to talk about the Christian church and our propensity to go to war against sin – and consequently against sinners. Our boss Jesus is desperately trying to get the message of his love and forgiveness of sins out to people and a lot of Christians, to include me, get stuck on eradicating sin and seem to miss the fact that for most of his ministry Jesus was focused on healing, loving, teaching, and preaching about how Pharisaical Law (there he goes with the Pharisee thing again) was not the way to God. We preach to and teach our kids that the way to be a good Christian is to be abstinent, stay away from drugs and alcohol, and try to live a good life instead of focusing on helping others and loving the unlovable. There is nothing wrong with encouraging our children to abstain from sex because sex has the remarkable power to make a young person lose their ever-loving mind and make some bad bad life choices. An easy goal to identify (yet very unreasonable) is to wait for marriage but at a bare minimum we should make them aware of the real and life-altering consequences of unprotected sex and even sex using protection. We should encourage our kids to be EXTREMELY cognizant of the addictive power of drugs and alcohol and make sure they understand the types of possible negative outcomes that they are dealing with. But we fail miserably teaching these things because it’s HARD to get all that info in a 90 minute youth-group session. And there are a lot of hard questions and awkward silences and maybe even some terrible revelations that might get out like, “Mr. Galstad didn’t wait until he was married to have sex! O. M. Goodness.” And so we simplify things.

     But during the simplification process the message is getting lost and we’re teaching our Christian youth that they are better than the other kids because they are Christian. We don’t mean to do this but we’re giving them an attitude of superiority and we are setting them up to go to war against sin and the sinner. And then those youth grow up to be adults who teach their own kids those same terrible terrible lessons. As Christians we tend to look at other people like single parents, drug addicts, the poor, and other less fortunate folks as sinners caught by sin. “You see, that’s the consequence of bad decisions, right there. Now be more like Jesus or you too could end up pregnant at 17/addicted/poor/whatever.” Everything becomes a morality play and a lesson and a modern-day Christian fable and the idea of compassion is relegated to the potential chance-encounter on the road like the Good Samaritan.

     And meanwhile Jesus weeps because that’s not what he came to do. Jesus was a counter-insurgent against sin. He went to the people of the world and even though they were tainted with sin he gave them his love, his hope, his healing, and his everlasting life. He did not separate himself from the people and drive around in his armored tank of holiness. Instead he walked amongst the people, ate with them, loved them, showed compassion to them and pissed off the Pharisees to no end. Jesus did not call on us to put on the full armor of God in order to attack our neighbors. No, in Ephesians 6:12 we are told specifically that we wear that armor not against our flesh and blood neighbors but as spiritual protection. Our war is not with our neighbors our war is with sin and we defeat sin by acting like Christ which is by loving our neighbors; doing nice things for them; helping them in their time of need; wrapping our arms around them when they are sad and offering solace; rejoicing with them when they are joyful; and being there to answer their hard questions with a spirit of gentleness, love, and care. Leave the eradication of sin to the Holy Spirit because that is its war.

     Our war is one of compassion on a daily basis. Our daily prayer as Christians should be to live with compassion and love and understanding. Because here is the reality: we are all saved by faith and by grace. That’s it. We are all one bad decision/moment of weakness away from tragedy. I grew up relatively poor in small town in Minnesota and I turned out OK but only by the grace of God. I was one moment of passion too long; one drink too many; one credit card charge too much; one choice of the wrong drug away from terrible life consequences. So I encourage you all to remember that Jesus came not to condemn the sinners but to save them and I encourage you to do the same. Jesus waged war on sin and saved the sinners through compassion, healing, love, and sacrifice and we are called to do the same. That sounds like an Army into which I would enlist.

Why Billboard?

I just got back from a back-and-forth trip to Minnesota from Maryland. So before anything else I want to say “I miss you” and “Thanks” to my Mom and Dad. Now that the formalities are out of the way back to the posting.

During my trip across the country I saw ALL manner of billboards, bumper stickers, and advertisements and a couple of them really got me to thinking. “Lion’s Den Adult Emporium” made me think “Really? There’s a market for huge porn stores on the interstate in 2013? I thought those all died with the advent of readily available broadband internet.” Apparently not, since there are at least 4 outlets for that chain located along two different major interstate arteries. I also saw an old school multi-sign reminder to support gun rights. There were 5 signs with 1 line apiece with a little poem about a criminal breaking into a house and the owner stopping the robbery with a gun. Rural Indiana looks to be an NRA stronghold if that little display is any indicator. I also saw any number of anti-abortion advertisements, defense of traditional marriage billboards, lots of anti-porn billboards (oddly enough they were located right after the ads for the Lion’s Den), and any number of other ads supporting one side or the other of various divisive issues. And I started to wonder about what would possess someone to spend a lot of time, money, and effort to design, pay for, and erect a billboard to broadcast their position.

Since I was on the road for almost 36 hours over two days without a traveling companion with whom I could speak I had plenty of time to mull this question of “Why Billboard?” over in my head quite a few times. The simple answer is “because they feel really passionately about that particular subject.” I respect that answer and it adequately explains a single aspect of the question “Why billboard?” but since I’m of the scientific persuasion and I had the time I started to look for the ULTIMATE answer to the question “Why billboard?” and not the PROXIMATE answer because the answer of “passionate feelings” begs the question of “where do those passionate feelings come from?” And the answer I came up with was “from church”. Notice that I said “from church” and not “from Jesus”. [Good Christians that are reading this article, kindly pause right now and put aside your righteous indignation and finish reading the blog before you blow up my comments section. Thanks.] That distinction is VERY important to me for a number of important reasons. Let me list out those important reasons for you:

1. The homosexuals
2. The atheists
3. The women at the well
4. Assorted “sinners” of the world

Those particular people are very important to me because those are my friends whom I love. I love them dearly and see a clear tendency in “Christian” circles to attack my friends. This particularly angers me because, and read this carefully, JESUS WOULD NOT ATTACK THEM. I’m so sorry to break it to you but I can’t see Jesus gay-bashing, I can’t see Jesus slut-shaming, and I can’t see Jesus – even though he is GOD – indulging in elitism. And every day I see “Christians” all around me do those exact things and even have the gall to justify their actions with the Bible.

And because of those actions by “Christians” I have the hardest of times sharing the Gospel with my friends whom I love. Because every time I bring up “Jesus” my target audience goes into super-religious defense mode. It’s like they are battle-mechs with a big red button that reads “Wingnut Protection System” instead of “Missile Defense System”. That means even when talking about my reasoning for adopting my daughters – a relatively safe topic – I have to thread the needle very carefully because the moment I mention “it’s a Jesus thing” my friends’ hackles go up, missiles and chaff are deployed, and the conversation is very much in danger of being aborted.

This is because my well-meaning “Christian” friends have erected billboard-esque arguments that directly attack my beloved non-Christian friends’ lives.

“Homosexuality is an abomination” 

“If she wasn’t such a slut she wouldn’t be in that situation” 

“Atheists are stumbling blocks placed in the paths of Christians by the devil.”

In response to years upon years of being judged and hated my non-Christian friends rightfully are a more than a little skeptical anytime someone brings up the big “J” or “G”. In fact the more scientific-minded of them have already formulated a fantastic plan. That plan is to instantly throw up every single scientific, logical, and well-researched argument as fast as they can in the hopes that the crazy right-wing evangelical will go away. And it works all too well. Congratulations, Christians, we have taught the world to hate us. “But Greg, in John 15 Jesus says that the world will hate us, so we must be doing something right.” Wrong. If the world hates us because we are loving the people around us, healing the sick, feeding the poor, and bringing comfort to the masses I would agree with you. But THAT is not the reason we are hated. We are hated for being intolerant, hypocritical, and arrogant pricks and for being modern-day Pharisees.

We as a Christian church have become as legalistic as the Pharisees and religious leaders of the pre-Christian era Hebrew synagogues. We have exchanged the love and openness of Jesus for the legalism of Paul. We have stopped eating of the fruit of the Spirit and indulged in practicing the judgment of Revelation. And all of my non-Christian friends know it and that breaks my heart.

And we do it because it’s easier than loving our neighbor. This is the real ultimate answer to the question of “Why billboard?” It is easier to classify and judge our neighbor and then justify our actions than to reach out to them. “Gay sex is icky and I don’t like or understand it” is not a palatable answer in today’s world so instead we say, “Jesus forbade it” which is false. We write off the atheists as enemies of the faith instead of embracing them with love, joy, perseverance, and GENTLENESS. We are so scared of our daughters and sons growing up and being damaged by drugs, alcohol, and the very real fear of an unexpected child that we cloister our children and teach them that those other kids are on the pathway to hell and that our children are to be “in the world, not of the world.” That’s a polite way to say that we’re teaching our kids to avoid the very people WITH WHOM JESUS WOULD HAVE HUNG OUT.

So do not write off my statement of “We are hated for being intolerant and arrogant pricks and for being modern-day Pharisees,” as hyperbole or exaggeration. Go read the Gospels with a critical eye and substitute “Pharisee” with “Stereotypical Christian”. “But Greg, you said ‘stereotypical Christian. I’m not…’” Yes you are and so am I. There are stereotypes for a reason and as soon as we wrap our heads around the idea that we’re not perfect, we’re not the exception, and we’re not acting like Jesus the sooner we can start to undo YEARS of hateful religious dogma. Notice how I used the word “religious.” We’ve been religious and it’s time to stop. It’s time to start acting like Jesus and I think I have a plan to do just that. Project Mayhem.

With many apologies to Chuck Palahniuk I exhort all my Christian brothers and sisters to start an insurgency within their own churches. I’m not talking about creating yet another denomination. I’m talking about subverting your current church to start acting more like Jesus and talking less like a Pharisee (I see you squirm when you read that word. I’m not going to stop writing it.) I have no concrete plan, no tracts, no 3-step path to restoring the legitimacy of the Christian church in the modern world. But you can start by guiding discussions away from the “don’ts” (Don’t listen to rock music, don’t drink alcohol, don’t wear skimpy clothes, don’t watch Harry Potter) back toward the dos (Love your neighbor as yourself being the big DO, here). When your Christian cohorts start to say things like “I love my gay friends I just can’t accept their lifestyle” I want you to think really hard about how that sounds to someone who is truly in love with a member of the same sex. And then I want you to realize that JESUS WOULD NEVER SAY THAT. Look in the Bible. Find an example of Jesus saying something like that – ANYTHING like that – to anyone but a Pharisee. You won’t because Jesus, despite being God didn’t really judge the sinners. And he certainly did NOT gay-bash – and non-acceptance of the gay lifestyle is gay-bashing. (No, really. Imagine your friends didn’t approve of your hetero-marriage and reminded you of that each time you saw them. How long would you remain friends? It’s gay-bashing. Stop it.)

Outside of the church in your everyday life I encourage you to truly love your neighbor. Do kind things for them, love them unabashedly, help them out when they need it, take care of their needs, be wise and gentle in answering their hard questions. Instead of judging, comfort them. Instead of moralizing, rejoice in their happiness. Allow someone who is broken hearted to simply cry on your shoulder because you truly love them and empathize with them. This is Project Mayhem – teaching your church to love the unlovable, take care of the needy, feed the poor, and generally both act and preach LIKE Jesus and trying to do it yourself. It’s revolutionary.

This subject is of particular interest to me because of those four people groups I mentioned earlier. Notice how I used the term “beloved” and “love” when describing my friends. That is because the homosexuals, the atheists, the women at the well, and the “sinners” of this world have brought so much joy into my life. I love them all dearly not because they are in need of my saving message of Christ’s love but because they are simply some of the most fun, most intelligent, and most lovable people in the world. I want to spend eternity with them because they are just that cool and unless I can undo about 400 years of dogma-damage I’m not going to get that chance. I truly love my neighbor and want to see them in heaven and the way of getting them there is not to judge them, not to convince them with your bullet-proof theological argument (my atheist friends will SOOOOOO eat your lunch so do not even try), not to convince them of the error of their ways. The way to get my friends into heaven is the same way that Jesus convinced me 2,000 years ago: through his unending love and his absolute joy in ministering to the people around him. So help me out and be more like Christ. I have a lot of cool friends.

The Face of Fear

I’m having a hard time writing this article. First off I don’t want to come across as some sort of holier-than-thou internet spokesman. “Look at me! I HELP THE HOMELESS!” So allow me to remind you what started this whole chain of events: I caught myself judging a pan-handler; judging them to the extent that I cooked up an imaginative world where there was a sinister group of people with nothing better to do than stand on street corners in 95 degree heat in order to collect money… just because. I didn’t want to help a pan-handler because I wanted to believe they were debasing themselves as part of a game. THAT is what started this. So to reiterate: I’m really a jerk. [edit: for anyone new to the blog here is the posting that spawned this one.]

The next reason I’m having difficulty writing this article is because I’m trying to come up with good answers for some inevitable questions that people may have. And the bottom line is that I don’t have any really good answers. Questions like: Do you think this is really going to change anything or are you just doing this so you feel better as a Christian? I really don’t have a good answer to that one. I very well might be doing this in order to pay penance for being a jerk. I very well could be that shallow and this might be an elaborate spiritual bandage that I’ve cooked up.

I’m also afraid that writing this article might make me lose sight of the humanity at stake in this operation. I met a guy. He’s homeless. He’s trying hard to straighten out his life. He very well may have lied to me for an hour over lunch today and I very well could be the sucker of suckers. But at the end of the day there’s a homeless guy out there and judging by some of his stories there are a lot of people just happy to curse at him for that reason. Correction: There are hundreds of thousands (650,000 in 2009 numbers) of homeless people with a lot more folks happy to curse at them for it. I am afraid that this article could detract from the plight of these PEOPLE. Not numbers, people. Lots of them but today I want to focus on one: The one standing in the median of HWY 175 and Dobbin road who was very worried when he saw me walking down the middle of the street to the median on which he was standing.

I was coming back from ferrying around some of my children and decided that it was a good opportunity to swing by Target to see if anyone was pan-handling. Yesterday the 3 or 4 times I drove by there was no one there but today on the first shot I saw him. A skinny white kid with a black baseball hat on, a small sign that I didn’t get a chance to read as I pulled in. I was conflicted because a: I had been trying to do this for the last couple days and I finally had my chance – and – b: I had been trying to do this for the last couple days and I finally had no choice. I pulled into the parking lot with a million what-ifs going through my head. I got out of the car into the hellish heat (95F with really high humidity, not a cloud in the sky, just after noon, mid-July in Maryland) and started walking down the hill playing through any number of possible scenarios in my head. As I approached the kid I saw his backpack on the ground slumped up against a street sign as well as a couple empty water bottles. Surprisingly the kid walked away from his backpack to the other end of the median as I approached. When I called to him and asked him if he wanted to grab lunch he froze. I saw the look on his face go from fear to shock to gratitude in less time than it took you to read that sentence. And that change was amazing and I instantly remembered something my parents or some teacher had told me regarding dangerous animals. “They are more scared of you than you are of them.” The kid quickly agreed, asked if he could grab his bag and then guided me over to the crosswalk. I had planned on walking back up the hill. The smart homeless kid knew that there were more and better restaurants across the intersection – ones that did not involve walking up or down large hills in the sun. I asked him his name and he told me it was Sam.

I had been afraid that I would have to force myself to not talk and endure a bunch of awkward silences but that wasn’t the case. Sam was quick to start up chatting and immediately told me how he had been frightened that I was going to cuss him out or beat him up. He was animated, well-spoken, very polite, and a bit defensive. He had quite a bit to say about the people who judged him and even more to say about his history. We sat down in Chik-Fil-A and he explained how he got to where he was: Christian High School student, kind of a wallflower, started hanging out with some drug users, found out he really liked heroin, finished school and got kicked out of his parents’ house, just came off heroin last year and has been on methadone since, has a job, currently pan-handling to pay to get his car (in which he’s living) tagged and titled, and generally trying to get his life put back together. The longer we sat and ate the less defensive he got and the less he talked about people judging him. He got comfortable enough to confess that he was going to grab some cigarettes before he headed back out and that he really needed to kick that habit, too. He seemed genuinely shocked after lunch when I handed him a couple bucks and wished him well. I think I did pretty well with the whole “less talking more listening” thing but he did ask about my job so I did talk about the Army a little bit. So what?

And that’s the big question I’m trying to answer right now: So What? At the very root of all of this is my desire: that other people who call themselves Christians will do the same thing because I believe it will help make you a better Christian. I know it’s definitely restored my focus on the dignity and humanity of the people around me and caused me to look more at those around me as I think Jesus Christ would look at them. But what else? Do I have an endstate? Do I have an all-encompassing plan to start up a church ministry in my own community and spread the love of Christ on an industrial scale? No I do not. I will champion Social Justice. I will wholeheartedly support David Batstone’s “Not For Sale” campaign, I will volunteer in my church’s outreach and ministry programs. I will do all these things as part of a greater movement to spread Jesus’ love. But in this little aspect I’m going to do it alone. Call me selfish (Greg, you could do so much more GOOD if you applied yourself) if you must – and I very well might be – but this one is for me.

So maybe I’ve answered my own hard question with a bad answer: This might be an elaborate spiritual bandage that I’ve cooked up. However, for one kid out there that bandage came in the form of an air-conditioned lunch, a couple bucks for cigarettes and anything else he might need, and an hour of someone listening to him. My Jesus-shaped bandage will hopefully motivate others to make themselves feel better by helping others, loving the unlovable, showing kindness where it is unexpected, and maybe even providing wisdom. I’m strangely comfortable with that.

P.S. Dear Sora, remember when I told you to focus on acting like a good Christian instead of trying to be a good Christian? I said something along the lines of, “Just get out there and help the people around you, do kind things for them, love them, and be wise and try to answer their hard questions. If you do those things your heart will follow the same path.” I don’t just say these things.

Blame my daughter for this one

Last night as I do from time to time I sat down with Sora and just talked to her before she went to sleep. We were just chatting about stuff and for some reason I asked her what she wanted to do when she grew up. She started to answer by talking about how she wanted to buy a house like the one in which we now live and some other things she wanted to buy. I interrupted (because I do that sometimes). She hadn’t answered my question about what she wanted to do or who even she wanted to be, she answered about things she wanted to buy. So I gently tried to correct her and convince her that it’s not about buying stuff but impacting the people around you. I talked about how it’s OK to want stuff but to not get too attached to those wants. I gave her the example of the Ferrari 458 Italia that I want but that I will never have – and that’s OK because I have 4 awesome kids instead.

And then we talked about what she was learning at church, it being Sunday night and all. After she told me she was learning to be a good person – a better Christian – I stopped her (a bad habit, I know) and told her how her father might be an idiot and COMPLETELY DISAGREES about going to church to be a better person. We then talked about who daddy believes that Jesus is and the people with whom Jesus would have hung out with if he was here today (the answer was he would most likely hang out with the kid that broke into our garage the other morning versus hanging out with the people at church). We talked about how it’s my thought that I go to church to learn about how better to help the people around me – how to show them love, how to help them, how to do nice things for them, and how to become wise in order to answer hard questions. Little did I know that I was setting myself up for a pretty massive test (spoiler alert: I failed). We chatted a little longer and then we all went to sleep.

So fast-forward to this afternoon. Since I have a little time off from work I’ve been playing the role of soccer-mom and errand runner. So at 12:30 in the afternoon with a sun-shiny 94F degree temperature and relative humidity well north of comfortable I was pulling in to the Target parking lot in order to pick up some cat food and cat litter. On the way in to Columbia Crossing I saw one of the pan-handlers in the center median with some sort of sign, obviously looking for cash. I see pan-handlers on that corner pretty regularly and I’ve come up with a completely asinine theory that there is a pan-handler cabal that actually collects all the profits from different corners here in Columbia and that the people I see out there aren’t actually homeless or destitute. And mid-thought I felt that warm and comforting embrace of Jesus’ love wrap itself around my heart and the Lord of Hosts softly whisper in my ear, “You’re an idiot. And a jerk. And you call yourself a Christian.”

I spent the next 30 minutes parking the car and shopping for pet products in a vicious spiritual battle with me on one side trying to explain that I really do love all of the people in the world and that I really do show them the love of God every day. On the other side was Jesus who really only said two words: Prove it. And so as I left Target I grabbed an extra $20 bill. I walked the cat litter and food out to the car and put them in the trunk. Then I walked across the parking lot, down the embankment and went up to the pan-handler and offered him $20 if he would come into Starbucks with me and have some iced coffee or water and tell me about himself. No judging, no ulterior motives. Just me acting like I think Jesus would and treating someone like a human being because they might like that. He could probably use some humanity.

No I didn’t. I got the pet products into my trunk and then remembered that my phone was at home and I was expecting an important phone call. I rationalized that as soon as I got home and got my phone, emptied the car, and checked my work email I would head back to Target. And I did exactly that. I also found that my phone was not at home, it was buried in my glove compartment. On the way to and from the house I tried to figure out what else I had to offer the pan-handler and what exactly I hoped to accomplish (I still am, actually) and I settled on “I’ll talk to the guy and trust that Jesus will help me figure out the next step.”

Unfortunately I suck (Captain Obvious Statement of the Day, right there). Yep, by the time I got back to the shopping center the pan-handler was gone. I even did a full casing of the complex and couldn’t find him. I was very disappointed with myself and now I have to tell my daughter that her well-spoken father with lots of good ideas can’t follow through.

But even though I sucked at being like Jesus today I don’t have to suck tomorrow. That’s the awesome thing about grace is that Jesus still forgives me and even better he knows that tomorrow I’ll have another spiritual battle and I’ll lose. I’ll head over to Columbia Crossing and see if there is someone else in need. I’ll even bring some contact numbers for the outreach ministry from our church as well as the $20 and good ideas.  And now I’m asking you to do the same thing.

You know where they are. You know how to find the pan-handlers. Take some time out of your schedule and go meet one. Talk to them and find out their names, if they are married, if they have kids, what are their dreams, where they are from, all the stuff you would ask a new coworker or… someone new at church. Just treat them like a person because that is what Jesus would do. I would ask that you don’t go on a full-court Jesus press. Just let them talk and end by asking if there is anything with which you can help. If they ask you why you’re doing this a simple, “It’s what Jesus would do,” will most likely suffice. Try to avoid talking. I’ll do the same and let you know how this works out on my end. I have no idea how this will turn out but at the very least there will be at least one person a little less hot and thirsty with a little more cash in their pocket to use for their needs. And perhaps I’ll have a little more humanity the next time I look at a pan-handler and start imagining that they are there because of any other reason than terrible circumstances.

Matthew Chapter 25