I Hate Watching People Have Sex

With a free night and a bowl full of popcorn, I scrolled through the Netflix-watch-instantly movies. I came across a miniseries called The Pillars of the Earth. I enjoy history and this 12th-century story set in not-so-merry-old England sounded like it was right up my alley.

The first episode was great. I liked the characters and was curious about the storyline. But the second episode did me in. I really hate watching people have sex. If I came across a couple having sex (or even kissing) in real life, I’d quickly turn away and get out of there, feeling I’d intruded on something that was not meant for my eyes. And that’s the way I feel watching people have sex on TV.

The first two who had sex were a couple who obviously enjoyed it. I averted my eyes during that scene, but continued to watch the show. The second couple had perfunctory sex while they made plans to overtake a castle and large portion of land by any means possible. It was disgusting, but I put up with it and continued to watch. The third was a rape of a virgin by a man who had an incestuous relationship with his mother.

At this point I could go into a diatribe about what TV has come to, but it would be pointless. There are thousands of other shows out there like this, and it’s pretty clear we won’t be returning to Mayberry anytime soon on TV. Instead, what it has brought home to me is: Why didn’t I turn it off!? I would never have kept watching that when my kids were at home. As I write about it now, it appalls me that I put up with it, and it has made me think about my entertainment obsession.

My problem has become that I don’t know how to relax other than watching TV. I love to read, but when I have time to read in the evening, I can’t stay awake. So that has made the TV my default way to wind down.

In a way, I’m glad I ran across this disgusting miniseries. Like a person who gorges herself so much that she can’t wait to go on a diet, this has pointed out to me the lengths I will go in order to be entertained. And I can’t remember the last time I talked to God about what I watch.

So I’m trying to figure out how to turn over a new leaf. I’ve decided I don’t want to watch TV more than once or twice a week. But I’ll need something to do with my free evenings that will be relaxing. Some of my ideas are: Read aloud with my husband after dinner. Design and make costumes for my grandkids. Take long walks or bike rides. Call my sisters and find out what’s going on in their lives. Fix a gourmet meal that takes all evening. Have a campfire (in a legal fire pit) in the backyard. Spend that time praying and reading my Bible.

What about you? Do you feel the need to find another default besides TV? If so, share your ideas. I’m all ears!

Clear and Present Living

There has been a lot said and written recently about how relationships are changing in our society with the advent of social networking, specifically Facebook. Most of the speakers and writers focus on how we are connected to many more people (almost everyone you’ve ever known) but that these connections are superficial leading to more loneliness than ever. It sounds true. And it feels true.

This got me thinking about deep, nourishing friendships, and it made me realize that it’s easier for most of us to have fleeting contact in the form of a “like” or a wall post on Facebook with an old friend from junior high than it is to reach out, develop and sustain true friendships in the place and time where we are.

I grew up as a missionary kid and have lived in three countries, so my friends from the various stages in my life are distinct—and for the most part distant geographically from my current life. It’s easy to hide in the closeness of past friendships instead of seeking to build community where I am. Sometimes I catch myself using the excuse that my close friends just don’t live around here. But you can’t cultivate deep friendships on phone calls and emails alone. They’re too easy to block when you’re discouraged and depressed or struggling through a particular sin. And email lets you edit your life to maintain whatever image you choose to present. You need friends and community in the here and now to be physically present, to encourage you, to hold you accountable.

God knows that we need the tangible, a presence. After all he instructed the Israelites to build a tabernacle that would represent his presence with them through their travels. Once they settled in Israel, Solomon was given the honor of building a house for the Lord, the temple. God also repeatedly sent his word through prophets to encourage and rebuke his people. And best of all, Jesus came and dwelt among men so that we could see the glory of the One and Only (John 1:14).

So I’m stepping out from behind the Facebook curtain to find women in my life who will encourage me and grow with me and for whom I can do the same. It takes more work and requires me to be vulnerable and open. But God provides for all of our needs, including the relational ones. Ultimately, he is a relational God who is present, and as his children, we need to imitate him (Ephesians 5:1).

What about you? How can you step out and connect with the people God has placed in your life right now?

An Object Lesson in Perseverance

For me, fall means more than spicy baked goods, craft fairs, or a wardrobe change. After a summer off, autumn means returning to part-time study in my graduate program. And this quarter, that comes with an extra challenge: Most of the people I started my program with have graduated.

When my classmates and I started together two years ago, I anticipated a couple years of intense full-time study. But I quickly realized I wouldn’t be able to sustain the pace I originally envisioned. The stress of taking two or three classes and working full-time would compromise my health. I was also concerned that I’d start focusing totally on the short-term goals of maintaining good grades and earning a new credential at the expense of less measurable long-term goals—gaining deeper insight into my academic interests, and thinking about the most satisfying ways of pursuing them.

For me, the best choice has been to take one course at a time. As a result, I’m not quite halfway through the program, while many of my classmates have moved on.

For someone with my personality—a highly motivated, mostly Type-A, recovering perfectionist whose gifts shine in academic settings—that’s been kind of difficult. It’s also been a bit strange being one of the older people in my classes, having worked for a few years before returning to school. This year, for the first time, I had a professor my younger brother’s age. Add to these things a first-born’s sense of entitlement to do things, well, first, and you can see why I’ve been feeling a bit angsty.

Part of me understands that, angst notwithstanding, I’m the object in an object lesson about perseverance. If someone were writing a neatly resolved thematic study about this portion of my life, they’d probably reference the snippet from the oft-quoted first portion of Ecclesiastes 9:11: “The race is not to the swift or the battle to the strong.” (Referencing the full verse—a challenging reflection on time and chance—would undermine a writer’s attempts to resolve the study neatly!)

The truth is, I’d rather be swift and strong. In fact, I often depend on these qualities. I think I’ve done some of my best work in short, intense bursts. I like holing myself away in my home with my laptop and a pile of books and emerging a day or two later with a paper. I can rise to the challenge of a sudden crisis—a flat tire along a busy highway, or a sensitive situation at work—fairly calmly. When I need to do a big project with only a week or two, I’m often energized enough to get past the feeling of being overwhelmed. I prefer swift and strong over slow and steady most days.

But as I’ve continued to grow spiritually, personally, and chronologically, I’ve started to value the slow and steady more highly. The chronological element is a big part of that—I’m no longer the college kid who could go days without a full night’s rest. I’ve experienced enough periods of burnout to know better than to live from crisis to crisis.

As I think more about what I’d like to contribute as a fledgling academic, the kind of work I want to produce demands deep thought and ongoing attention that can’t be rushed the night before. And when I read Scripture, I can see how being swift and strong isn’t enough to save people from judgment or calamity.

I’ve slowly begun to see how God is using processes—often processes that take longer than I’d like and move more slowly than I’d prefer—to develop patience and build my character. In some ways, I feel like God is re-orienting my sense of what it means to do something fully and well. As he does this, I’m receiving more than recalibration from a recovering perfectionist into a woman who can prepare and persevere. I’m also being given an opportunity to see the world differently from the way much of our culture does.

While I’ve read the occasional news story of mid-career reinvention, or of a Grandma Moses who is discovered at an advanced age, I notice that many of the stories I read about achievement focus on being swift and strong: On who did something first, or youngest, or fastest. The whiz kid or wunderkind, the top 30 under 30, or 40 under 40. And while that’s often a legitimate part of what makes an achievement valuable, I also think it can lead us to devalue the process of moving toward a goal through steady, persistent work over time—or cause us to feel pressure to rush an accomplishment before it’s due. It can also lead to the sense that one’s youthful accomplishments matter more than the things we do further along in life. (I once joked with a friend that one of the big disappointments of my early 20s was realizing that I was too old to be a child prodigy. When she laughed and said she’d had the same thought, I realized I’d made a lifelong friend.)

I’m grateful for the opportunity I’m being given to slow down and synchronize my sense of what’s important with what I can discern about God’s timing for my life and the wisest use of the energy he’s given me for all of my goals and responsibilities. And I’m curious: Are there any other highly motivated, mostly Type-A, recovering perfectionists out there? What experiences has God allowed into your life to recalibrate the way you think about strength and swiftness? What Scriptures or scriptural insights have helped you?

Learning from Ameenah

I was eating granola in my kitchen when I heard about the first plane. I was driving north on highway 287 in Colorado when I heard about the second. I was pulling into a parking spot when I heard the loud explosion while an NPR reporter was at the Pentagon. I was in the break room with stunned colleagues as we watched the towers fall.

Where were you on 9/11?

The moment you heard, you saw, you grasped what was really happening—it’s indelibly etched into your memory. It altered your view of our country’s “safety.” It gave you nightmares; it caused you to second-guess air travel. And it offered up a very ugly picture to be forever associated with Islam in the minds of many Americans.

Today there are more pictures. There are protests and counter-protests about an Islamic cultural center, slated to be built two blocks from ground zero. There’s talk of Christians publicly burning copies of the Q’ran. There are repeated claims that the President is really a Muslim in disguise. There are continual parades of new mug shots on the news of suspected terrorists—mostly all bearded, Muslim young men. There’s debate over torture and war and detainees.

Along with all these contentious issues is the increasingly virulent rhetoric over what Muslims believe. Some assert that Islam is a peaceful religion and that Allah is the same as the God of the Bible. Others contend that Islam is a violent, misogynistic religion.

So who’s right? What is Islam all about? What do Muslims really believe?

I was forced to face this question in a profoundly personal way when God brought “Ameenah” (not her real name) into our family’s life.

When I signed up to host an international college student at our home for a family meal a few times a semester, I felt excited and expectant. When I learned the student was from Saudi Arabia, my excitement became mingled with feelings of inadequacy. I was energized by the opportunity to share our family’s culture and Christian beliefs with Ameenah. I was also looking forward to learning more about Ameenah’s world and introducing my children to someone from a very different culture. But I also felt intimidated: I realized how painfully ignorant I was about Ameenah’s part of the world, her customs, and her Muslim beliefs.

Our meals with Ameenah were great. She was a wonderful girl who grew to feel comfortable with our family. She told us she was happy we were Christians because we “had morals” (unlike the partying and immodest behavior she regularly observed on campus). We started to find just a small patch of common ground.

But my time with Ameenah also confirmed my feelings of inadequacy. Though I knew the basics about Islam—the five pillars, their general beliefs about Jesus—the gaps in my knowledge became glaringly obvious to me. Ameenah spoke passionately about the Sunni/Shi’a divide in her country (she was Shi’a) while I nodded, realizing I had no idea what was so different about the two sects.

In America, Ameenah wore long sleeves, long skirts, and the hijab (headscarf). But when she showed me a picture of her family in Saudi Arabia, I was shocked to see Ameenah and all the women in her family covered head to toe in black burqas (including black gloves and socks).
And when Ameenah talked about Islam, I realized that my very elementary understanding of it wasn’t nearly enough. Where can I even start? How can I share Jesus with her if I don’t understand where she’s coming from?

Ameenah and I ended up having several conversations about Christianity and Islam; we both learned from each other. I don’t think Ameenah ever once considered Christianity for herself, but I do feel good about the chance we got to show her a Christian family in action. And I’m grateful for my feelings of inadequacy because they pushed me to learn a lot more about Islam.
When we interact with Muslim friends and neighbors, many of us can find some common ground, but we also come to a point when we realize how immense the gap is that divides us. We owe it to our friends to push beyond stereotypes made about Islam and to learn more about Islamic culture and beliefs. And as we do so, we become better equipped to share the truth of Jesus.

What about you? How have fears, stereotypes, or controversies in the news colored your understanding of Islam? How adequately prepared do you feel in your efforts to reach out to the Muslims in your community? What challenges have you faced? What successes have you experienced?