Real love doesn’t meet you at your best.
It meets you in your mess.
— J.S.
[Art from Judith Bernice]
Category: Culture
The Irretrievable Vacuum of Unhappily Never After.
Part of my hospital chaplaincy duties is to write a reflection on how it’s going. Identities may be altered for privacy. All the writings are here.
—
No—it doesn’t always work out.
The storm doesn’t always pass.
There isn’t always closure.
Not everything will be all right.
I won’t know why.
There’s a moment in the hospital when our illusion of safety is shattered and the stark reality sets in:
Things won’t change,
they won’t get better,
there won’t be a miracle,
and there won’t be a happily ever after.
It looks like God has exited the building, and that maybe He’s not coming back, and that we will never, ever know why this awful tragedy had to happen.
Babies die. Spouses drop dead at thirty. Diseases take and they take and they take. Prayers go unanswered. Drunk drivers walk free and their victims die slowly in a fire. People die alone. Some people don’t know who they are when they die; some people don’t have a single number they can call. They’re cremated by the county without a trace.
I soon found that I was having a series of tiny panic attacks over faith, more and more disorienting, these little underground bombs that threw me into crisis and left me scrambling for answers.
After a particularly hard case where a young woman’s dad shot her mom and then himself, I came home and tried to pick up some random inspirational book from my bookcase. What I found inside was so unimaginably distant and disgusting that I nearly threw it at the wall. I went through a few more books, and words that had once comforted me were crass and trivial. I couldn’t possibly believe that any of these authors had really suffered or seen suffering. I’m sure they had—and that’s what I wanted to see. Their raw edges. Not these luxurious, over-privileged travels and extra tips on mental re-arrangement, completely removed from the wounded. I saw these first-world tales as they really were: shallow, out-of-touch, and bereft of consequence.
I was lost in the whirlwind of malheur, the pain underneath our pain. I was struck by intrapsychic grief, from the loss of what “could be” and would never come to pass. I was a wax thread in a hot oven, my old beliefs dripping and frayed.
I suddenly understood the intensity of the Psalms, all the anger and violence and whiplashes of doubt, encapsulating the moments when we can no longer un-see this garish void of the nether, the unreturned.
I wondered if maybe it was easier not to believe, because believing was so dangerously painful.
Continue reading “The Irretrievable Vacuum of Unhappily Never After.”
The Worst of Me, the Best of Me.
I believe people are worse than we think.
I believe people are better than we think.
As a Christian, I’m both a pessimist and an optimist at the same time.
I’m painfully aware that we are capable of the worst sorts of evil, and worse, that we too easily turn a blind eye to the real grief of others. Many of us are so sheltered that we deny how deep such depravity runs in our veins. We laugh it off, we whistle past the graveyard, we gloss over the wounded. I’m pessimistic because I see how awful we can be.
I’m also painfully aware that we can be manipulated into thinking people are one-dimensional cartoon caricatures, so much that we become cynical and jaded over the possibility of change. Our very real fears are often exaggerated by a binary social narrative that has us ravenous for blood. We forget that each of us do have hopes and dreams and passions that overlap and interweave. I’m optimistic because I see how harmonious we can be.
I’m hopeful that the best of us, within us and among us, can build bridges through open scars and new stories through broken hearts. That we can give a voice to our uncertainty. That we are on hand one not extremely dismissive, and on the other hand not completely nihilistic. That we validate each other’s concerns and lean into our very real wounds, while not buying into the back-and-forth backlash of answering hurt with hurt.
I am holding space for our fears.
I am holding space for our hopes.
I’m a cynic and a critic.
I’m a believer and I’m with you.
Will you be with me, too?
— J.S.
Photo by Image Catalog, CC BY PDM
What Love Doesn’t Do
Love doesn’t keep a score. It wipes the record clean each day. It says good morning today and goodbye to yesterday.
— J.S.
Art by jeannedarvin
Our Rest and Resolve: What Gets Us Through Deadlines, Demands, and Disorder
>Art by worshipgifs
Hello dear beloved friends! This is a message called, Rest and Resolve: What Gets Us Through Deadlines, Demands, and Disorder.
It’s about what gets us through when we want to give up. You can stream above or download directly here. I’m also on iTunes here.
I talk about Jesus versus Peter at the Transfiguration. Some other things I talk about are: That moment of exhaustion when you sigh for a long time before you walk through the door, the burn-out check-out from school and marriage and career, the strange beauty of enjoying something you can’t pay for with nothing to offer, the greatest miracle Jesus ever pulled, faith as a long-distance relationship, a word for both perfectionists and slackers, and the one crucial question they ask you at a car accident.
All messages can be streamed here. Be blessed and love y’all!
— J.S.
People Are People: And Some Days Will Drive You Absolutely Insane
Today I’m unusually bitter and sad about people, and I’m so very tired and cynical over everything, including myself.
May I be honest here? People are people and sometimes people will drive you insane, and some days I just want to pack up and take the next spaceship off the planet.
I know I’m not supposed to say any of this because Christian bloggers and pastors are so inspirational and full of “never-give-up” pep. We love our slogans and re-tweetable one-liners. I want to be part of the cute punchy Instagrams with the sugary Christianese quotes. But days like today, I just want to give up on everyone. At times being positive makes me feel downright sick. I want to flip a table and go to sleep for a month and I look at my Bible and laugh.
People can be so maddeningly frustrating, and I know this because I disappoint myself too. We can be in the trenches with someone for months and months, pouring out grace and absorbing all the hurt and sharing life to the bottom, but that person might do what they want anyway. I know that no one owes me anything and this isn’t about “listening to me.” I’m not trying to pull pity here. It just hurts to see a person that you invested in so completely lose it and drop off the face of the earth.
I usually hear from people when they’re desperately in need. I never get to see the other side when it’s better, and maybe I have to be okay with the unresolved-ness of it all. What I’m asking for sounds petty and unreasonable, and again, that’s not to say, “Oh poor me.” But I wish I had more reason to hope, more reason to stay. It’s so selfish, but I wonder why I keep doing this.
I’m learning that faithfulness is more important than fruitfulness, because even when there are no results and rewards, I’m still meant to run this race. Yet I’m also learning that most of the race will be hard work, in silence, amidst people who often don’t care, with little evidence that we’re making a difference and many failed heartbreaks of seeing others walk away. I’m learning this can be a cruel, thoughtless, heartless world, and to be a fleeting flash of light is so much better, and so rare. I’m learning again and again to trust God for what I cannot see, because He’s the only one who heals hearts to glory. I’m learning to encourage others along the way, because so many never get to hear that they’re doing all right, and I want to be the one voice in the crowd that actually breathes life, even when it’s for a second and forgotten.
— J.S.
Breathing New Life.
How Is God’s Love Different Than Human Love?
Art from Diane of 1of1doodles
germandreambaby asked a question:
Do you think that the love God has for us and for the entire creation is somehow different than what we understand as love? I mean, does the love of God have (entirely) different characteristics than human love? thanks for answering!
Hey dear friend, the short answer is: sort of yes and sort of no.
The love of the Christian God is so unique in that it purports no agenda, has no need for reciprocation, and has the motive of no-motive. God’s love exists simply because it does, for no reason except that He loves. There is no transaction, no equal exchange, no real economy. It is like a waterfall with no source and no ending, a constant wave after wave.
At the same time, God is unflinching when it comes to justice as being a part of love. Love is not merely sentimental, but also incorporates the safety and health of the other. That means telling the truth and keeping others accountable and gently persuading others away from the cliff of self-destruction. C.S. Lewis said it best: “Love is not affectionate feeling, but a steady wish for the loved person’s ultimate good as far as it can be obtained.” In fact, Lewis said this within the context of WWII, in the midst of atrocities, referring to how we can love the “enemy.”
Many of us will lean too much to one side or the other. In other words, every culture will have an incomplete misinformed idea of “love” because it’s either too sentimental or too safe. We go for sappy careless love and end up enabling and spoiling. We go for “tough love” and end up controlling and wounding. We get our boundaries wrong all the time, either too much or too little. We might pour out until we’re irresponsibly draining ourselves, or we might speak so much truth that we come off shrill and unapproachable. Sometimes we hold on too long or we let go too early. Such a perfectly balanced love is impossible for us, and we will never get it completely right.
Continue reading “How Is God’s Love Different Than Human Love?”
Ridiculous, Reckless Grace: My First Pastor.
Photo by Matthew Kang, CC BY-ND 2.0
My very first pastor, Pastor Paul, was a ridiculous person. What I mean is, he kept pouring out his life to other people without any kind of tactical advantage to himself, and he never asked for anything back. He took strangers to job interviews, frequented the local hospitals, sent handwritten letters to everyone in the church and across the street, volunteered for clean-up at the park, brought bottled water to the beach all the time, counseled every church member at any hour, and somehow managed a marriage while making it to 6:00 am prayer every morning and preaching three times per week. Try to picture Korean Jesus, and that’s him.
I started attending church a bit late in life, around college, and I was one of those punk kids that any pulpit-pounder should’ve written off. I showed up hung-over on Sundays and bleary-eyed from partying on Saturday nights. I talked loudly in the back-row during the sermon. Church was just an extension of socializing at the club, and I endured the service stuff because I liked the hanging-out stuff. But Pastor Paul was just one of those guys who really brought it in the pulpit, and more than that, he was the real deal outside of it. Some of his sermons started to creep into my brain, and when I met up with him, he never judged me and never flinched at how I lived. He just loved. And without really knowing it, I became drawn to that supernatural pulse that was beating in his veins. I wanted to be like him—and by extension, like Korean Jesus.
I’ve thought about how my pastor’s job was often a thankless role with so much resistance against him, sometimes for no other reason than people just have their own thing going on. He took the hits and stayed around. He somehow served very personally without ever taking it personally. He was really for the other, never using ministry as a way to validate himself first, not as some kind of catharsis, but because he was invited into a story and a calling and a life that was meant to be given away. I loved that about him. I still do. He’s always looking for an angle or avenue to serve, even when he’s not wanted, not in an intrusive way, but to be available. I want to be about that, too.
— J.S.
Breaking Up and Getting Back Together: About Me and My Wife
Photo by Jenny Kaczorowski, CC BY-NC-SA 2.0
Anonymous asked a question:
Can you please give the testimony of you and your wife?
Hey dear friend, I wrote on that a little bit here.
I met my wife about nine years ago (!) and while I eventually grew interested in her, she really did not want to be with me. At some point, she said she’d pray about it, and I waited about seven months. We sort of semi-dated, and at the three year mark, she broke it off. I was devastated, but I also understood: she had seen my darkness and it was too much for her. I was addicted to porn, I had anger problems, I lacked self-control, I was not the man I could be. Any rational woman would’ve broken it off with me.
She thought it was over but I kept a bit of hope. Over the ensuing months, I quit porn, sought counseling, and I had a complete breakdown. I took a two month sabbatical to really confront my own issues and reinvigorate my faith.
Here’s the cool part. During the two month break, I happened to be traveling up north on a personal road trip, and my wife-to-be, who I hadn’t seen in about six months, happened to be in the area I was driving through. She had just quit med school to rediscover her own career path. And we met at a cafe. I told her I still loved her, and she said, “Okay. Let’s try again.” Three years later, we were married.
Continue reading “Breaking Up and Getting Back Together: About Me and My Wife”
Seven Questions to Ask Before Voting
Some questions to ask ourselves before voting:
How will my vote affect the story and direction of our country?
Is this candidate I’m voting for going to help defuse our current racial tensions?
Is this candidate going to hold themselves accountable as an example?
Is this candidate capable of proper foreign policy as well as bridging the divisions between American individuals?
Is this candidate a step forward in the tapestry of progress and history?
Is this candidate the kind of person who can address grief, loss, and prayers with sincerity and movement?
Who are we more or less comfortable with in directing our social and cultural narrative?
— J.S.
Photo by Saint Julian, CC BY-ND 2.0
God’s Greater Vision.
I hope we have eyes to see that God is doing something we cannot see. This takes discipline, but we have help. God has a vision far greater than my sight. He has an imagination that infinitely outweighs mine. We think a person is an impossible case: but God is in the business of the impossible. After all, He saved you and me.
— J.S.
Art from thehopeletter
How Do I Know If It’s God or the Devil? A Mega-Post On Pain, Evil, and Suffering
Anonymous asked a question:
Would God purposely put His children in a situation where they would be hurt in any way (rape, kidnapped, something like that)? Or is this the work of the devil? I don’t think He would, but I don’t know.
My dear friend: There’s probably a huge list of questions I’d like to ask God the second I see Him (right after I collect my eyeballs back into my head). So right upfront: I’m not sure why the devil is given such a long leash. I’m going to ask God about that one, probably with my arms crossed and eyes rolled (and my head on fire).
The Question of Evil has not been adequately answered by the greatest philosophers of history, and I probably won’t be the one to crack it today, either. It’s the kind of stuff that makes me doubt God everyday. Even if I did have some solid theology on why certain atrocities happen, I still doubt it would satisfy the victim of abuse and slavery and oppression and terminal illness, no matter how much “logical sense” it makes to the brain. Even if I concluded, “All the bad stuff is really from Satan,” then a suffering person could only reply, “So what?”
I can only offer a few thoughts that might help you on your journey here, because this tension of why bad things happen will never be resolved by any single answer. Anything we say on pain will always be inadequate for the actual suffering person. No such all-encompassing answer from any belief system really exists. I say this as a chaplain who works in the hospital, who has seen the very worst kinds of suffering, knowing that any amount of inspiration or explanation will never be enough.
I can only say that I believe the Christian perspective best accommodates the problems we see today. I’m also aware that some of us will never meet eye-to-eye on this and we can “deconstructively reduce” anything I’m saying with snark and cynicism. That’s easy mode. And that’s okay. We’re free to disagree and wrestle and think for ourselves.
And please know: I would never, ever enumerate these reasons out loud the moment after a person has been seriously harmed. I would never bring this to the bedside of any of my patients in their inexplicable grief. None of this theology really matters as much as you being there in the trenches with a heart of listening and love.
As always, please feel free to skip around.
Continue reading “How Do I Know If It’s God or the Devil? A Mega-Post On Pain, Evil, and Suffering”
Jesus Welcomes the Worst of You.
Jesus welcomes doubts, questions, confusion, frustration, venting, and disbelief. He welcomes those who draw near and say, “I feel so far.”
If you haven’t talked to him in a while, he will not bite your head off.
His arms are always open. Jesus can handle your clenching of the teeth and shaking of the fist. What he does not want is for you to stay there.
— J.S.
Art from worshipgifs
Don’t Believe All That You Believe
Occasionally I’ll binge-read atheism blogs to re-examine my faith and to remember what it was like when I was an atheist. Some of the online debates are absolutely terrible, but a rare few are civil, compelling, and thoughtful. I have to really pause and consider the implications of a godless universe.
It’s always such a balancing act to question your own faith, but I also think most Christians are too afraid to look over the edge, to dance on that precarious cliff of hard questions, so we run to easy answers and bad arguments. We’re too scared to investigate doubt. We’ve equated a lack of confidence in faith to some kind of moral value judgment, as if “doubt” means personal failure. I refuse to believe that questions must mean a lack of character. I propose the very opposite: that we must have a place of safety to ask those questions and to not be threatened by curiosity.
I hope that whatever you believe, you would investigate it thoroughly to the very bottom and think through every foundation. Please do not let anyone do this for you. Simplistic platitudes will not get us through the darker times, but we also believe more lies than we think.
— J.S.
My Faith Is Up and Down and All Over The Place
Multiple anonymous questions —
[As always, please feel free to skip around]
– Hey Pastor. I guess I’m just wondering if I’m the only Christian who blows hot and cold. I’m terrible about reading my Bible or even praying. I tend to go in phases where I’ll do really well and be on it every day and then I hit a spot where I go weeks without cracking open my Bible once, and then I just sorta feel guilty so I keep staying away. Sometimes I second guess myself and wonder if I’m even saved, because if I was, wouldn’t I love Christ enough to give Him that time? I know that I am born again, and I also know that Christ has enough grace even for this, even though it’s the same thing over and over, and I know that I am the one shaming myself. I guess I’m just wondering if you’ve ever struggled with this yourself, and if you have advice on how to combat it?
– I’m glad I came cross your blog, I’ve been lacking my relationship with God. You can say even wondering about His existence … But lately I’ve been struggling and tried to talk to God but I don’t get answers and feel like He either left me or everything that happened was in my imagination…
– I need help, I’m lost I’m a struggling Christian who sometimes finds it hard to believe in god and other times it’s easy, but I still attend church every Sunday. I love being a Christian however over the last few weeks I’ve been getting into things like drugs, alcohol, and lots of sexual activity. what should I do? I’m questioning weather I should give a testimony at my church about who I really am, and the things I do, the truth, but even in the house of god I know I will still be judged.
My dear friends: You’re not the only ones who feel this way.
Most Christians are shocked that they can’t maintain a certain level of excitement and discipline in their spiritual walk — but I’m wondering where we got all these crazy parameters from.
It’s probably the unfair church culture that has hyped each Sunday into a let’s-top-last-week rock show. Or it’s the way the preacher keeps guilt-bombing with, “When was the last time you really read your Bible and sang from your heart?” Or it’s the Westernized ideology of performance and competition. Or it’s just our own self-criticism. Or you’re exhausted.
But please allow me to give you a little grace and freedom here.
Not everyday of your marriage can be like your wedding. No one is expected to duplicate the first feelings of chemistry into their fifth decade of a relationship.
Faith is a tough, messy, muddy, organic sort of thing.
I know that’s probably the hipster thing to say. But so long as we live between a perfect loving God on this hostile fallen world, we’ll have trouble believing the unseen eternal. Some of us will struggle with that more than others, and no one can blame you for that.
Continue reading “My Faith Is Up and Down and All Over The Place”
A Faith Crisis: When My Theology Is Shaken by Science, Debates, and Headlines
Anonymous asked a question:
So I’m taking an honors world history class taught by an atheist teacher and we’re learning about evolution and it’s really really testing my faith. Honestly I don’t know what’s true right now. My theology isn’t the greatest because I’ve only accepted Christ for two years now. I’m just now finding it hard to believe in the Bible and God right now.
Hey dear friend, thank you for sharing this with such honesty.
The truth is, every single type of belief system will eventually get shaken somewhere. When this happens, we can 1) investigate deeper into what we really believe, and 2) incorporate the new information into our beliefs somehow.
We each experience a kind of cognitive dissonance when our worldview is shaken. It can actually make you disoriented, nauseous, and depressed. Sometimes it’s from learning more about the world, or it’s from a terribly brutal tragedy, or it can be a very persuasive argument that uses flowery language. And these experiences will inform our theology and philosophy, and vice versa. But none of this has to be a threatening, stomach-punching trauma.
While we’re certainly going to feel what we feel, we can still explore this new information in light of what we currently know, and then navigate a way through it. It’ll be tough, and you may be scared or surprised by your conclusions, but it can actually make you a more thoughtful, whole person, too.
Continue reading “A Faith Crisis: When My Theology Is Shaken by Science, Debates, and Headlines”
I Don’t Feel Bad for the Bad Guy
Photo by beverlyislike, CC BY 2.0
[An angry post.]
You know, I’ve dealt with abusive, manipulative people nearly my entire life—and more and more, people want to show “empathy” for the abuser instead of the abused, and we’re too quick to explain away how much suffering that the abuser has actually caused.
One thing the movies get wrong is that they give the abuser some “depth” and “layers” and “multi-dimensionality.” Terrible villains are given backstories to justify their behavior and make them seem like “underdogs” who got dealt a bad hand. While this idea has some merit and it makes good movies, it also creates a harmful narrative where abusive people have a supposedly good reason to be abusive, or external factors are to blame, or you should feel really bad for them.
This completely leaves behind the abused person.
It’s as if abusive behavior can only be redeemed after the abuser sees how much suffering they’ve caused, and if that’s the cost to redeem an abuser, it’s too high of a price. Remorse shouldn’t be born at the expense of trauma.
I can see why the media would “feel bad” for a disgusting rapist and his future, because we’ve become trained in glorifying and empathizing with the bad guy. We offer way too much benefit-of-the-doubt. And yes, some people are just terrible. Not everyone has depth and layers and sad backstories. No, they’re not irredeemable, but we underestimate the detestable capacity for evil and we over-promote self-esteem (perhaps because we then must admit we’re also each capable of the same evil). We use words like “empathy” without also considering boundaries, safety, and trust. Good people get used up because they are fearfully obligated to a morally heightened, hyper-dramatic view of “love,” when it’s really just enabling. And some of us selfishly appear to have empathy to be awarded as outstanding citizens, when there’s neither an ounce of compassion for the abuser nor the abused.
In all this, we force the victim to take the “higher ground.” We trivialize and simplify the victim’s role to be the “bigger person” all the time.
But if we only place the impetus on the victim to forgive, to rise up, to heal, and to reconcile, then we’re not any better than the abuser. Doesn’t the victim have to be redeemed, too, from the pain that was caused? The abuser can certainly feel remorse, but are we going to ignore the remorse that the victim feels from both their pain and “blame”? The abuser can feel bad, but are we going to ignore how awful the victim feels from the actual wound?
It seems unfair to appeal to both sides when nothing about abuse is equal, and it must be on the abuser to pay for their crimes, to make reparations, and to be restricted unless they can prove otherwise that they can be trusted again.
I always want to hear “both sides of the story,” but in cases of obvious abuse, I’m not forfeiting justice out of some misguided sense of courtesy. Justice was already forfeited by the abuse. I must stand staunchly and stubbornly with the victim, and to do that, I must sit with them first, in their pain, not at my tempo but theirs, and to look evil in the eye with courage, unflinching at excuses and rationalizations, and to offer grace when it is no longer foolish, by the plumb line of wisdom and trust.
— J.S.
Better Than You Think.
You’re doing better than you think. You’re in the middle of your motion, so it’s hard to see where you are. But so long as you’ve been taking one heavy step forward after another, no matter how awkward your stumbling, then this is worth celebrating. Every moment you’ve done right is a miracle in itself.
— J.S.
Art by here_as_in_heaven
Can God Really Fill My Loneliness?
Anonymous asked a question:
As a christian how can we be intimate with God so that he fills the void of companionship?
Hey dear friend, I’m afraid that this might be a false dichotomy. In other words, intimacy with God and companionship with people are not two separate things. Jesus told us the Greatest Commandment is (paraphrased a bit), “Love God with heart, soul, mind, and strength … and love your neighbor as yourself.”
To quote Timothy Keller:
Adam was not lonely because he was imperfect. Adam was lonely because he was perfect. Adam was lonely because he was like God, and therefore, since he was like God, he had to have someone to love, someone to work with, someone to talk to, someone to share with.
All of our other problems—our anger, our anxiety, our fear, our cowardice—arise out of sin and our imperfections. Loneliness is the one problem you have because you’re made in the image of God.
Loneliness is not a sin, but points to a very real need that we’ve had since the very beginning. Certainly, if our loneliness leads us to idolize others or people-please or squeeze unhealthy expectations, then we will be crushed. On the other hand, if we only “rely on God” in a sort of monk-like asceticism, then we will either grow resentful of “these worldly people” or we will never participate in the stream of God’s loving activity, which involves people.
J.S. Park: Hospital Chaplain 