Monday, March 09, 2009
God Help Us
As I age, I am recognizing my hot spots-- not hot flashes, yet-- but those people, places, things, and ideas that I am prejudiced against... the things that make me mad. You might call them hot buttons, I guess. I know, for example, that I've been prejudiced against homeschoolers, Bobbi McCaughey, and the Duggars. (I've rescinded my disdain for the Duggars. I wanted to hate them, but I just couldn't when I actually watched the show. They are sincere, non-judgmental. They would accept me with open arms.) I've been a food snob, a drinking snob. I've really been a condescending bitch in my life. I know this.
One of my hot buttons is evangelical Christianity. This button was installed for me, like for so many people, by my family. In my church, being a fundamentalist Christian meant being one of the only people in the world who actually got religion right. It meant being smug. It meant lacking compassion. It meant that dancing was sinful, but clogging was all right. It meant that people with schizophrenia had demon possession. It meant burning books, t-shirts, and cassette tapes. It meant WIVES SHOULD SUBMIT TO YOUR HUSBANDS! It meant wanting sinful uneducated people who fornicated and had babies out of wedlock to find Jesus, but to visit him somewhere else, especially if they were poor and black. It also meant converting the rest of the heathen world.
My aunt has been converting heathen Catholics in metropolitan South America for over 25 years. She does not seem to know that her son's Facebook page features a hookah. She does not seem to know that he liked reading The Anarchist's Cookbook and hurling fiery packages out of upstairs windows. If she does know this, it hasn't put a damper on her confidence that she knows what's right for the rest of humanity. I love my aunt. She was so great to me as a kid, and still loves me madly. I'm very lucky. When she invited me to join Facebook, I did so with the intention of maintaining the page primarily as a way to keep in touch with people, especially family (something I've been pretty bad at), without much emphasis on politics, religion, etc. I know that I'm prejudiced against what my aunt does for a living, but she's never expounded on anything to me-- at least not in the past twenty years. Once, when I was visiting her in Manhattan, she did consider having me go harass two gay men holding hands since they probably wouldn't bother a little girl.
There is a student in my class whose parents are also missionaries. I don't get what church they represent, if they do mostly social programs or religious projects, what their schedule is. I get that they're nice people. I get that their daughter, a lovely, smart, athletic, well-spoken girl anyone would be proud to call a daughter, doesn't want to go. She wants to play on the volleyball team. She wants to go to school dances. She wants to go to the mall. I think she should be allowed to do this.
Recently we discovered another reason she doesn't want to go to the mission field. A few years ago, she was molested. For awhile she held it together. She got straight A's. She posed for newspaper pictures. She told newspaper reporters how lucky she was to get to go the middle school AND be with her parents on the mission road, the best of both worlds. She was a good Christian girl. This year, however, she came to school late most days. Stopped doing homework. Became withdrawn. Turns out that lately she's become promiscuous, too. She went to my principal and guidance counselor, unable to keep up appearances any longer. "My parents think I'm up here," she said, holding her hand, palm down, about a foot over her head. "I'm really down here," she added, bringing that same hand down towards the floor. "I want to let them know what's going on."
The parents were called in, and the daughter told them, as she wanted. Her father put his head down on the table and cried, told her it was all right, he was there, her mom was there. They loved her, they always would. They'd work through anything. I asked Stan if the family was going to hold off going to the mission field in light of their daughter's issues. "Of course not, Chrissy,"Stan told me. "These people think it's god's will or something. I've never seen anything like it."
I have. I can hear their discussion. This is Satan's way of trying to keep God's work from getting done. We have to forge on, let Jesus take care of it. If she just lets Jesus into her heart again, all her problems will disappear. This is an opportunity to minister to others. The real problem is public schools. If we had only sent her to Christian schools, it wouldn't have snowballed. This is just a test.
Yes, I feel it is a test. It's a test of how serious they are as parents, not how serious they are as Christians or as part-time missionaries. I realize that unfortunately lots of people in lots of places and vocations brush over their children's problems, paralyzed with fear and heartbreak and guilt. Most of those people, though, aren't trying to dictate what the rest of the world does, who can use birth control, who must have a baby, who can get married, who is going to hell.
One of my hot buttons is evangelical Christianity. This button was installed for me, like for so many people, by my family. In my church, being a fundamentalist Christian meant being one of the only people in the world who actually got religion right. It meant being smug. It meant lacking compassion. It meant that dancing was sinful, but clogging was all right. It meant that people with schizophrenia had demon possession. It meant burning books, t-shirts, and cassette tapes. It meant WIVES SHOULD SUBMIT TO YOUR HUSBANDS! It meant wanting sinful uneducated people who fornicated and had babies out of wedlock to find Jesus, but to visit him somewhere else, especially if they were poor and black. It also meant converting the rest of the heathen world.
My aunt has been converting heathen Catholics in metropolitan South America for over 25 years. She does not seem to know that her son's Facebook page features a hookah. She does not seem to know that he liked reading The Anarchist's Cookbook and hurling fiery packages out of upstairs windows. If she does know this, it hasn't put a damper on her confidence that she knows what's right for the rest of humanity. I love my aunt. She was so great to me as a kid, and still loves me madly. I'm very lucky. When she invited me to join Facebook, I did so with the intention of maintaining the page primarily as a way to keep in touch with people, especially family (something I've been pretty bad at), without much emphasis on politics, religion, etc. I know that I'm prejudiced against what my aunt does for a living, but she's never expounded on anything to me-- at least not in the past twenty years. Once, when I was visiting her in Manhattan, she did consider having me go harass two gay men holding hands since they probably wouldn't bother a little girl.
There is a student in my class whose parents are also missionaries. I don't get what church they represent, if they do mostly social programs or religious projects, what their schedule is. I get that they're nice people. I get that their daughter, a lovely, smart, athletic, well-spoken girl anyone would be proud to call a daughter, doesn't want to go. She wants to play on the volleyball team. She wants to go to school dances. She wants to go to the mall. I think she should be allowed to do this.
Recently we discovered another reason she doesn't want to go to the mission field. A few years ago, she was molested. For awhile she held it together. She got straight A's. She posed for newspaper pictures. She told newspaper reporters how lucky she was to get to go the middle school AND be with her parents on the mission road, the best of both worlds. She was a good Christian girl. This year, however, she came to school late most days. Stopped doing homework. Became withdrawn. Turns out that lately she's become promiscuous, too. She went to my principal and guidance counselor, unable to keep up appearances any longer. "My parents think I'm up here," she said, holding her hand, palm down, about a foot over her head. "I'm really down here," she added, bringing that same hand down towards the floor. "I want to let them know what's going on."
The parents were called in, and the daughter told them, as she wanted. Her father put his head down on the table and cried, told her it was all right, he was there, her mom was there. They loved her, they always would. They'd work through anything. I asked Stan if the family was going to hold off going to the mission field in light of their daughter's issues. "Of course not, Chrissy,"Stan told me. "These people think it's god's will or something. I've never seen anything like it."
I have. I can hear their discussion. This is Satan's way of trying to keep God's work from getting done. We have to forge on, let Jesus take care of it. If she just lets Jesus into her heart again, all her problems will disappear. This is an opportunity to minister to others. The real problem is public schools. If we had only sent her to Christian schools, it wouldn't have snowballed. This is just a test.
Yes, I feel it is a test. It's a test of how serious they are as parents, not how serious they are as Christians or as part-time missionaries. I realize that unfortunately lots of people in lots of places and vocations brush over their children's problems, paralyzed with fear and heartbreak and guilt. Most of those people, though, aren't trying to dictate what the rest of the world does, who can use birth control, who must have a baby, who can get married, who is going to hell.
# posted by Chrissy Snow @ 3/09/2009 01:56:00 PM 
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I was raised an evangelical christian. I went to a christian school. Everyone ignored that my father beat us, that my mother was an alcoholic, because my parents were good members of the church--they led Bible studies, financially supported missionaries, acted as leaders of the congregation.
And then--not surprisingly--I became anorexic. This was in high school. Most people ignored it until I got sick with almost kidney failure. Then, the christian counselor of my evangelical christian school called me into her office. She was concerned about me, she said. She wanted to know, how my walk with God was. Because, of course, I was anorexic because I wasn't being a good enough christian, because if only I was more spiritual I wouldn't be sick.
And then--not surprisingly--I became anorexic. This was in high school. Most people ignored it until I got sick with almost kidney failure. Then, the christian counselor of my evangelical christian school called me into her office. She was concerned about me, she said. She wanted to know, how my walk with God was. Because, of course, I was anorexic because I wasn't being a good enough christian, because if only I was more spiritual I wouldn't be sick.
When my dad became depressed enough to be hospitalized for a few days about ten years ago, my uncle (the missionary's husband), said, "What Ray needs is to walk with God again! That's what must happen." The scary thing was how firmly he believed it. He wasn't preachy or condescending, either, just horribly,naively misled.
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