Happy New

It’s been exactly 16 months since I published anything on this blog.

What have I been doing all this time? Remodeling. Mostly figuratively, but also literally:

Over the past year and a half, we’ve tackled a number of moderately challenging homeowner issues that have sprung up in our new house: many aggravating plumbing problems, a situation with the AC unit, and a full reclamation/restoration of our basement floor space thanks to water damage. It ended up being quite a blessing in the long run: now our kids have a fresh, clean, bright, huge rec room to play in, and it only cost us the deductible for our homeowner’s insurance… which was still $1000. Due right before Christmas. Yeep!! But without that insurance, it would have been SO much more expensive.

And we refinanced our house right before, which supplied a bit more wiggle room in the budget right around this time of year.

How’s that for Providentially generous? 🙂

However, these endeavors pale in comparison to the number one priority that has taken up most of my extra attention over the past 10 months: our thirdborn child, born this past February.

Baby Percy
Thirdborn–a little girl.

A perfect little GIRL to follow up my two darling boys. I have been absolutely enthralled ever since (daddy, too). Her brothers are generally pleased with her existence as well, so bonus!

Of course, enthrallment does not obviate the required toll of sleeplessness (and the constant adjustments to home life) that accompanies the parent of just about any child under 18 months. That, paired with ((mostly)) finishing up the marathon of potty training with my firstborn, starting the whole process again with my secondborn, beginning our first “official” year of homeschooling in the fall of 2019, and taking on more part-time online teaching work, accounts well for my absence ever since February.

But what about before then? After all, the whole preceding fall and winter are blank on this blog, too.

That brings me to the more figurative remodeling process I’ve invested in since you last heard from me. Do you remember my account of the severe psychological breakdown I experienced last summer?

It was bad. Very. Very. Bad. In that post, I bluntly confessed my profound need for serious help and announcing the beginning of my quest to get it.

16 months into that quest, I can now tell you: I have achieved some great triumphs.

So much darkness lingers in my heart and mind, still, it must be prefaced. However–my ability to perceive that darkness without succumbing to it was non-existent before.

And now–now, I can.

There is a book I’ve been reading–that is, trying to read, fraught will immense delays thanks to the demands of parenting–since just right about before little Percy was born on the fringes of spring. I haven’t finished it yet, but thanks to my husband buying me my own copy for Christmas (I borrowed it from the library nearly half a dozen times, returned it late nearly every time, and still barely made it a few more pages forward each time before now), I’m about halfway through. It’s called All the Crooked Saints, and it’s by Maggie Stiefvater.

(Whom I already adore for her work in The Scorpio Races, btw, which I would recommend to absolutely anyone.)

All the Crooked Saints is about nothing more or less than dealing–or not dealing–with one’s mental health. Being a narrative fiction, of course, it doesn’t call it that: it has a more appropriate, helpful designation for the battles we all face–or don’t face–inside our own heads.

Darkness.

Understanding what darkness is–or not understanding it at all–is what makes the story a whole lot more compelling than the pitch I gave you two paragraphs up.

I bring this to your attention because, if you really want to know what the last 16 months have been like for me, I will point you to this book. What it describes will give you a far more accurate and truthful and full perspective of my passage during this time of silence than I think I can create for you here in my own words.

As a brief glimpse, though, allow me to quote a few excerpts:

 

“The miracles at Bicho Raro always came in twos.

The first miracle was this: making the darkness visible.

Sadness is a little like darkness. They both begin the same way. A tiny, thin pool of uneasiness settles in the bottom of the gut. Sadness simmers fast and boils hard and then billows up and out, filling first the stomach, then heart, then lungs, then legs, then arms, then up into the throat, then pressing against eardrums, then swelling against skull and eventually spilling out of eyes in a hissing release. Darkness, though, grows like a cave formation. Slow drips from the uneasiness harden over the surface of a slick knob of pain. Over time, the darkness crusts in unpredictable layers, growing at such a pace that one doesn’t notice it has filled every cavern under the skin until movement becomes difficult or even impossible.

Darkness never boils over. Darkness remains inside.

But a Soria could draw it out and give it form.”

“…The second miracle was this: getting rid of the darkness for good.

No one wanted to see their darkness made manifest, but the reality was that it could not be fought until you saw its shape.”

 

Could

not

be fought.

 

Until you saw its shape.

 

I have seen the shape of so much of my darkness, finally, through the work I have done–through the work God has accomplished in me–over the past 16 months.

I used a great deal of therapy from a licensed trauma counselor to begin. So much was exposed and untangled and sat with and understood, peacefully, for the first time.

I gathered a number of vital tools from those sessions, tools that I have needed for decades. And I used those tools to go to work.

I began to remodel my faith. I began to remodel my relationships–first with each one of my children. Then with my husband. Then with my extended family members. I began to remodel my sense of self, my sense of worth, my sense of joy, my sense of belonging. My sense of goodness and peace and righteousness–what those things really look like.

I finally, just barely, began to taste and see that the Lord is good.

And it has changed so much.

I can’t tell you where this journey or process will end, because I am squarely still in the middle of it. I have a LONG road, or roads, to go. But I am so happy, and so very content, to finally be ON this road.

I have wanted to be on this road for a long, long time. I feel like I have finally, finally launched.

And the blessings of just that have stacked up and overflowed in my heart and my life abundantly more this year than I ever could have hoped.

I am abundantly grateful.

 

Thank you, Lord.

 

Happy New Everything.

–GM

 

Glimpses of the Creator

Beautiful thoughts from my sister-in-law, who is serving a short-term medical mission in Philadelphia.

SMI Philly Blog

Everywhere I go today, I know there will be people. Particularly here in an urban setting, humanity is inescapable and that can make it seem ordinary – commonplace even. And perhaps because of this, it is all too easy to lose sight of the beauty, wonder, and complexity that is bound up in another human existence.

 In the past year, I began my formal medical education and in this process I have frequently found myself in awe of the intricacy of the human body. Our bodies are a continuous whirling dance of precisely timed and choreographed chemical reactions occurring in inextricably intertwined organs that work in concert to the tune of complex rhythms and steps.

 And while all of this is beautiful and profound, we are so much more than our chemistry. As elegant and convoluted as our chemistry may be, it seems minor in complexity when placed alongside the…

View original post 209 more words

Are Murder, Rape, and Genocide Morally Christian?

The Jesus Eraser

I got caught up in a comment thread a few days ago in which an agnostic and a fundamentalist Christian argued about the nature of good and evil. At one point the agnostic posed this question:

“We also know that a minority opinion does not make a morally Christian act, objectively moral.
It is morally Christian to kill your son because God asked you too. It is morally Christian to offer your daughters to rapists to protect angels. It is morally Christian to kill thousands of people because God decided they were not worth him. Do you condone these acts or are you glad to live in our « fallen secular world »?”

The Christian answered with this response:

“YES I would condone all of those acts if commanded by God. Absolutely. Because God is the lawgiver. He is the moral standard of truth. Your opinion on right and wrong is irrelevant as is mine. When you fully grasp that God created the universe we inhabit and holds it together moment by moment in delicate balance, you will realize that his thoughts are SOOOO much higher than ours (as scripture says). But humans have a tendency to think they can know better than a God who created them. Yet we cannot even make our own hearts beat.”

The thread went back and forth for awhile, but both this particular question AND the response bothered me. I felt it was important for me to try and clear up a few things, if I could.

So I wrote the following response. It was probably tl;dr as it’s gotten no feedback whatsoever, and the thread itself stopped in its tracks. That is the nature of the internet, of course. But because I put so much time into thinking this out, and I wanted to be able to share these thoughts with others should they come up again, I’m going to reproduce my comment here.

The full thread and the original (quite good!) post can be found here: “Do Christians Indoctrinate Their Children?”


 

([agnostic commenter], I know this will bring some bloggers’ hellfire down upon me, but I just have to let you know–not all people who try to follow Jesus agree with what [Christian commenter] is saying. In fact, with regard to the murder/rape/genocide, I am hopeful that the majority of us very firmly do NOT. We would, however, disagree that “It is morally Christian to kill your son… offer your daughters to rapists… [and] kill thousands of people.” None of those things are morally Christian.

Christianity–the understanding and following of CHRIST, Jesus–did not exist in Abraham’s time. Abraham’s interaction with God as recorded in Genesis should therefore not be construed with the relationship God has with people through Jesus now–that Old Testament interaction had a different purpose. I should also note that 1. God never actually had Abraham kill Isaac, 2. God only asks Abraham to **offer** Isaac up, never gives an actual command to kill, 3. God in fact loudly and absolutely condemns child sacrifice elsewhere in the Old Testament. See Genesis 22, here for the account of Abraham attempting to sacrifice Isaac, and see Psalm 106:34-39, Ezekiel 16:20-22, and Ezekiel 23:36-39 for God condemning child sacrifice (you can search them on BibleGateway as well; I don’t want to clog up this comment with links).

If you read Psalm 106 and those Ezekiel chapters, this actually provides a good segue to your third point about genocide. Obviously, in those passages, wiping out other nations is referenced–very, very firmly within the context of due justice. Those nations were thoroughly murderous, sacrificing their children as a way of life, and they passed on that practice to ancient Israel. If we can agree that child sacrifice is unacceptable, even to the Christian God, then I think we can agree that a culture that formally enforces it as part of a religion is extremely dangerous and toxic–and that that everyone who committed murder in that society, which must be the vast majority of people, deserve death themselves.

However. It is important to note that God never “decided they were not worth him.” Having hand-made every single human with infinitely loving purpose and care, God loves every single one of us–even the ones he instructs authorities to kill for the sake of everyone else’s protection and stop a horrifyingly destructive practice. He mourns every person lost when a people group is wiped out, absolutely regardless of the reason. And in fact, Psalm 51:14-17 and Hosea 6:6 say outright that God does not desire sacrifice, but rather mercy. He will not back down from crushing a threat when innocents are being wantonly slaughtered; neither does he ever WANT to have to do such a thing. And, in fact, that is why he sent Jesus: so that even murders would have a way to turn away from their wrongdoing and be forgiven, rather than be killed in return. This is ALSO why Christians are NEVER justified in recreating that OT scenario and crusading or committing genocide themselves. God has NO USE for that now. Jesus wasn’t around in the OT, however, so it makes sense that God’s solution to systemic mass murder was damage control: eliminating the murderers themselves. That’s the ONLY reason Israel had the instruction to kill off other nations–because they were such hideously bad mojo–and it does NOT MEAN God didn’t love and care for and mourn those lives lost, too. This is the atomic bomb ethical dilemma that all of us can appreciate, now having that in our fairly recent history: destroy several thousand lives in an instant to end a war, or sacrifice untold quantities more–including and especially the very people you are sworn to protect as your first priority–by letting the war drag on instead. Which would you choose?

We argue that none of us can play God, that the best answer to this dilemma is passive non-decision; but if anyone does in fact have the right to play God, it’s God himself. Here is the point where I concede a bit of common ground with [Christian commenter]: if God has a solution, regardless of how terrible the fallout, you can believe that it is a just solution, and you can believe it is in fact the best solution. If you cannot see the justice in God’s work, and you cannot equally see the love, then you are not following a God that is truly worth worshipping, are you? May I also add, that if you are having a hard time seeing love and justice in the Christian God, you might well be mistaken about who he truly is, what he says, and what he does.

Finally (and I know I’m going out of order, but bear with me), offering Lot’s daughters to rapists to protect angels was not God’s idea, or even the angels’ idea; it was Lot’s, and he in no way receives commendation for it. It’s simply recorded that that’s what happened. See Genesis 19 here for the account: Any sane Christian today would look at that and say, “Well gee, I’m not trying that any time soon!!” God absolutely condemns rape. He absolutely condemns child abuse. He absolutely condemns going rogue on “doing the right thing” because you think you’re doing him a favor even while you’re harming other humans. I could pull you up passages for these principles, too, but again, I don’t want to clog the blog.

So, then, all this is to explain that “moral Christianity” is not at all what you think it is. There are evils that are obviously evil to the vast majority of humans, and when Christians get confused about that, that’s their fault, not God’s. It an absolute shame when we represent him so poorly, and I’m sorry for that. But I hope you will take the word of one of us who agrees with you that child sacrifice and rape and genocide are bad when I say that God wants none of these things from us–that practicing such is not “moral Christianity.”


 

If you made it to the end, gentle reader–what are you thoughts?

–GM