The other reason is that I got called to sub on the second day of school. I was a substitute teacher, when I could, for half days last year (while my daughter was in school). With her starting Kindergarten this year, I'm available for full days (when I'm available), but I never expected to get called the first week (teachers tend to want to be there to get the year started well). One of the local schools has a teacher out on maternity leave and they were having trouble finding a long-term replacement and needed some extra help in the classroom.
It was great - same kids every day for a couple weeks - students I had subbed with pretty frequently last year. Smooth sailing. Then the school went through two long-term subs in about four days without much hope on the horizon. I got offered the chance to take over the class for two months, so I thought I'd give it a go.
Listen, I only signed up to sub last year because they were short. I wanted to fill a need and help the public school system, which has become the community space our family is pretty heavily invested in. I've served on district committees. I try to make most school board meetings. It makes sense. I knew the kids; I'm ok with seventh grade math. Shoot, I've lived with a middle school teacher for more than a decade.
Despite having lived with a middle school teacher for more than a decade, I just simply had no idea the skills and abilities one really needs to teach. I don't know many people who have more respect and admiration for public school teachers than me - but I gained a whole lot more over the weekend. Trying to get a handle on everything required to even take over a class for a few weeks was literally overwhelming. I couldn't sleep,
riddled with anxiety (not something to which I'm prone - it took me some time to even realize what was happening).
I also learned the difference between someone who can teach and a teacher. I've done Sunday School classes and tutoring - I've even taught actual classes in the ministry training program on two districts. It's a lot different getting a class of kids through the day and being a consistent,
positive presence there with everything on your shoulders.
I knew this. Of course I knew this - but knowing something intellectual or through observation is a lot different than knowing through experience.
I'm a wimp, for the most part. I don't tend to attempt things I'm not certain I can complete. Risk is not my thing. However, when I'm pretty convinced something has to be done, I buckle down and do it. There aren't a lot of things in my life that I've attempted and failed. Yes, that's because I'm cautious, but it's also because I'm a pretty quick learner and I'm good with systems and organization.
In the end, I probably could've done it. I could've taken my lumps, endured sleepless nights, learned from my many, many inevitable failures and possibly survived. My sanity might not have been intact, but it could've technically been done. I opted out though. There's a sense of shame in that. One, I don't like to admit defeat. I've gotten less obsessed with winning over the years, but I'm still darn competitive. This feels like a loss to me, and that's a big ego hit. I also feel like I'm letting people down who work hard and a tremendously difficult job. My not being there created extra work and more headaches for people who have an impossibly tough assignment to begin with. That stinks.
It was a good lesson in limits, though. Just because I can do something or something needs to be done, doesn't mean I have to do it. I probably should've known this was a bad idea from the beginning. I'm not a teacher; I don't really want to be one. I can fake it through a day or two -
which is really useful and helpful in its own right - but that's about it. So many great people have a passion for it, and skills to be really good - and, despite my close proximity to one of them, I'm not sure I ever truly appreciated that, certainly not as much as I do now.
My life is not where I thought it'd be. I'm not upset at all; I really like my life. It's just that I don't really have a job description.
I find great joy in being "of use," although I never know from one season to the next exactly what or where that will be. I keep trying to jump into new thing where I'm needed, but I learned over the last few weeks that perhaps a little more self-reflection might be important in figuring out where that is.
Even more so, other people might have a different perspective of what I am (or should be) capable of doing. I need to trust myself a little more. It's a difficult balance between challenging one's self (or accepting the challenge of others) and knowing one's self well enough to say 'no.' Hopefully I got a little better at that this week - and maybe it'll mean I can make more of a difference in the right places moving forward.
Anyway, we should be back to a better posting schedule now - at least until basketball games start November 15th.
So, this guy, Reggie Osborne, poured his well-intentioned heart out on his personal blog more than a year ago and, for some reason, it's found its way to viral now. I see lots of my Christian friends sharing and praising this post. I'm going to savage it - I think it's deluded, misguided, and dangerous - but I don't want this to be some attack or rebuke on Reggie himself. He's coming from the right place - in fact, I think I agree with what might be his most important sentence, in reference to today's youth, "They’ve heard the message and believed it: 'Sex is no big deal'." That's the point in this thing, he just surrounds it with so much outrageous bunk, I'm enraged.
Yes, I recognize that he wrote a follow up to clarify some of the more egregious inferences, but that doesn't remove them from the piece. The impetus for the article was a California law requiring affirmative consent training in high school sex ed. To quote from the piece,
"Do you want to kiss her? Ask for consent. Do you want to touch her breasts? Ask for consent again. Do you want to take her clothes off? Ask for consent again. Do you want to penetrate? Ask for consent again."
I get that he's outraged this is something that would have to be taught in school, but there's nothing in the piece supportive or affirmative of this idea at all. I think it comes from a naivte about the past that we evangelicals like to nurture, that there was a time when conservative Christian morality was the societal norm and people "behaved" themselves. This just isn't true.
Sexual assault on college campuses is not a new phenomenon, it's just now become an issue for people in power. Women being taken advantage of is not a new phenomenon; it's just become culturally unacceptable. To think that affirmative consent is the kind of thing we have to do to stem some rising tide of sexual dysfunction is to have your head in the sand. This is the kind of training that's been needed for all of human history. Yes, I, too, am upset that it's needed - and that outrage is justified - but it's not a new need.
He beings the piece with a story about his wedding - how because of the (right and good and agreeable) chastity he and his wife practiced, along with their commitment to life-long marriage, his wife "only said yes once." I understand the meaning; it's about commitment, but that's not how the words read. They're irresponsible in a world (especially a conservative Christian world) where often the man is empowered as dictator in a relationship. The evil of complementarianism is alive and well - and many women are committed to the idea that what their husband says, goes.
I'm not accusing Osborne of this - (well, maybe he's into complementarianism, I don't know - but he makes a strong denouncement of spousal rape in the follow up piece) - but it is real and prevalent still. Sometimes it does apply to sex. I've heard more than one committed Christian address what's appropriate in the bedroom by saying, "once you're married, anything goes," which is fine, if there's real affirmative consent, where one partner actually feels free to say no (I'll try to use partner as often as possible, but sexual pressure in a relationship can come from either partner, and it certainly applies to same-sex relationships, too).
I don't know how it works for other people, but I've pretty much found in my 12 years of marriage that affirmative consent works really well for everything, not just physical intimacy. The majority of Osborne's post seems to be denigrating or marginalizing its importance. As the dad of a daughter, I think it's just about the greatest thing to come along in society in recent years. I am overjoyed knowing that when I empower my daughter to take control of her body there's a whole culture out there supporting that notion. It's not a luxury that women in previous generations enjoyed.
When I read the list of things Osbourne cited he gets to do because his wife said 'yes once,' at their wedding, I just feel sad for her.
"Yes, I could kiss her. Yes, I could sleep with her. Yes, I could steal glances of her in the shower because I think she looks great even after 5 kids. She said, “Yes,” to me, forever."
I'm sure they've got a great relationship (or as good as any of us) and this was maybe poorly worded, but they're still there, for people to read. None of those things are implied by a wedding. Kissing and sex might be expected (although, again, with real affirmative consent), but I can't imagine too many people (male or female) enjoy being bothered in the shower. It was a real shock early in my marriage when I was told some of the things I did with good intentions to be cute or flirtatious just made my wife uncomfortable and angry (and it took some time of quiet suffering before she told me).
Lack of communication is the easiest way to kill a relationship and, frankly, Christians have done more to make talking about sex and intimacy difficult for couples than anything else. Yes, culture and media have exposed kids to sex more often, earlier, and in unhealthy ways than in past generations. That's absolutely true. Yes, pornography and media portrayals present a distorted view of sex that leads to real relationship problems for people when they have unfair expectations of a partner.
But that doesn't make it the cause of anything. What it's done is force us to talk about things previous generations could've gone their whole lives never bringing up. How many Christian kids heard simply that sex was bad until they're married, then its great, with no other instruction whatsoever? It's a lot. What that leads to is just as much dysfunction, misery, and fear, albeit different from the kinds prevalent today.
The difference now, in this oversexed world, is we have to talk about it or someone else will.
Beyond the way many of these other peripheral issues were poorly addressed, what drives me most nuts about "She Only Said Yes Once," is its blame shifting. Yes, sex has been casualized and devalued and misrepresented in society, but if my child grows up with a messed up perception of sex and its related issues, that's not anyone's fault but mine.
We're afraid of oversexualizing our own kids if we talk about the natural, biological processes of reproduction before they hit puberty. We think we're just going to drive our kids to experimentation and danger if we empower them to make their own decisions about sex after puberty. We want to tell them what to do, but we're afraid they won't listen, so we say nothing at all.
That is when culture and experience and outside voices enter the fray. If you don't want your kids listening to a culture that glorifies selfishness and hedonism through sex, then give them another voice. I won't go into great detail on what I might say, because I've written it a couple times, at least - this one still holds up.
I think the big issue, especially as it relates to Osborne's piece and the way evangelicals have handled sex, is the approach. If you start with "Don't have sex," and follow it with a discussion of the very real and important realities surrounding sex, it just seems like justification for the demand. If you start with, "It's your body and you can use it however you want," the rest becomes honest and caring support as they wrestle with a massive responsibility.
I am positive my daughter will make choices with which I disagree (and not just about sex, either) - when I think about it even now I tear up little - but it's much more important to me that she makes those choices with the broadest reserve of knowledge, the deepest well of thought,
and my unwavering support.
The sexualized world around us is not evidence of its own depravity - we're naive if we think this is anything new - rather it is evidence of our abdication of responsibility to speak life into it.
Yes, this is the result of laws that deport felons and other violent immigrants without legal status. Those are generally good laws. In this case, a judge had the opportunity to grant a reprieve and found Crapser's story unworthy of such. We all know it behooves reporters to write one-sided pieces and perhaps this guy isn't a model non-citizen. It's tough to be too harsh on the judge when I wrote just last week about the difficulty of making "good" decisions in the midst of a messed up world.
At the same time, I have to wonder if the language we've come to use with regards to undocumented immigrants, even the words we've come to associate people who break the law, aren't prejudicing those entrusted with carrying out those laws, or even the rest of us who form opinions about these things? That cuts both ways. We want some subjectivity in matter like this. A man who's lack of citizenship is not really his own fault is falling prey to laws designed to rid the country of murderers and otherwise violent people. Whether we like subjectivity or not, the law says once violent, always violent. Criminals generally pay for their crimes long after official punishment has ended.
Although, it's this very subjectivity that makes room for dangerous bias* - both being unreasonably lenient and unreasonably tough. Subjectivity leads to discrimination and our society is, despite the calls against political correctness, terrified of discrimination perhaps more than any other domestic issue. We want to be fair.
We want to be fair, so we turn to objectivity. Do everything the same. Treat people the same, no matter what. This is what every corporate lawyer will tell you. Masters degrees in Human Resources are built on this principle. If someone can prove you treated them differently, they can often win, or at least scare you into a settlement.
I live with a teacher - that profession is increasingly obsessed with objectivity, creating automaton teachers who can regurgitate focus-grouped lessons and provide every kid in every class an identical educational experience. The assembly line plan works really well in some areas. Interchangeable parts have kept costs down and expanded innovation all over manufacturing. Of course, people are people, not things.
Outside of all the life and death talk surrounding the notion of "pro-life," it seems the most pro-life thing to do might be to work for a society in which every person can be treated not the same, but as an individual. A teacher should be doing what's best for each student, not the same thing for each student. No one wants a doctor who treats every illness exactly the same, right?
That's the rub, we don't like objectivity when it applies to us, but we're generally in favor of it when we're talking in general terms. We're down with a constitution that proclaims equal treatment for all, but we'd sure like other factors considered if we were in Adam Crapser's position. That's precisely what happens in education when a child is identified as having special needs - the get an individual plan of action, protected by law, to address their specific needs. I'm all for this kind of care and concern, but it sure feels like the kind of thing every child deserves, right?
That's just it, though, right? It's not really that people are opposed to subjectivity, it's that subjectivity in impractical in a nation of our size. The cost and manpower required to address individual instruction to every child would be near impossible, not to mention the complex logistics to actually make it work. The same goes for the law - yeah, it would be great to consider each individual person, their alleged crimes, and the impact of these actions on themselves and others within the context of their own lives, but who's got the time?
What we've tried to do is set up a system that does both. We have judges appointed to, well, judge. They try to make gracious and earnest decisions about individuals in front of them, but we've also got laws that set parameters for their power (for good or for ill). We're constantly arguing over this system, changing it. We're riding the pendulum of subjectivity and objectivity.
It feels like, at least in this moment, the pendulum is way too far on the objective side. I think there're a lot of good reasons for that, but there are also a lot of difficult results. We could look into this particular case a bit, if we find Adam Crasper deserving, we could work to have the crimes pardoned that are keeping him from getting a Green Card. That's a subjective solution to an objective problem, but there's probably dozens, if not hundreds, of other people in the same boat. This is also where we get all these overly specific, convoluted laws - people trying to ran subjectivity into an objective system.
In the end, we control how we interact with the people around us. Our systems and structures may not be perfect, even as we strive to perfect them, but we, ourselves, can be committed to treating people as people, individuals rather than interchangeable cogs in the machine.
*We should not, though, that subjectivity does not cause bias or discrimination, it merely provides a convenient excuse. We have to guard against throwing out something good, because of how it's being used for evil.
I went to school in New England - that bastion of liberal arts - at the only Nazarene school still a college, and proud of it (New England might be the only part of the country where achieving "university status" is considered a downgrade). Liberal Arts have traditionally been a luxury of the rich, although places like the Nazarene system were founded precisely to bring a liberal arts education to anyone who sought to work hard for it, and it is still a luxury, to be sure.
I get why people don't want to rack up debt for an education. That makes financial sense. Although I do wonder whether those disagreements are simply just a difference in perspective about education (with neither side being "wrong"). Even as someone who's now 12 years removed from college graduation and still paying one final student loan off, I recognize the value of a liberal arts education precisely because I experienced a really wonderful personally formative experience - the experience was worth the time and money, so whether the education was worth it is really irrelevant to me.
We talk about the Nazarene higher ed institutions being much less "Nazarene" than they used to be with some measure of hand-wringing. It used to be, in large part, if you were a Nazarene who went to college, you went to a Nazarene college, probably your regional school. That's just not the case anymore, for a number of reasons. There's a lot of disagreement about how we tackle that issue.
I imagine we've stopped selling the notion of a Christian liberal arts education as a value in itself. There is indeed more risk these days - you used to be able to literally work your way through college, paying as you went. Now, loans are a big deal, even with increased financial aid packages. Loans are certainly manageable if you plan well, but some unexpected trouble and they can be devastating (especially if you don't graduate). I think there's great value in the experience (and the education), but the idea has to be sold. We, as a denomination, aren't doing a great job of it (likely because there are fewer leaders totally sold on the idea themselves, which is, again, not necessarily wrong). But, if we just assume our kids will see the value of attending a Nazarene school on their own, then our Nazarene student numbers will plummet... oh, wait... yeah.
The other aspect of things, though, and this is where the real rub happens (sorry for making you wade through all the rest to get to my real point), is that our institutions are struggling to remain Nazarene, not just in student composition, but in purpose and mission. It's not just a "Christian" liberal arts experience (which is really important), but a specifically Nazarene one (which I, as a very biased observer, believe to be superior in a lot of ways).
A good portion of the scholarship funds at our Nazarene schools come from annual contributions from congregations. The schools depend on those resources desperately. Still, it's been known for a while that our denomination really cannot support all the schools we have in the US, but of course all of them have a history and a constituency and none of them want to close. The only alternative is to compete in the market with other schools. So long as our districts control the trustees (which I'm not against, but I do think accreditation groups will put an end to it in the near future), they're going to be relatively conservative Christian institutions - and to compete in that marketplace, some aspects of Nazarene distinction just have to be downplayed.
We're Wesleyan, and while I don't think you have to be Calvinist to compete in the generic conservative Christian college marketplace, our tendency towards theological progressiveness, creativity, and exploration is not always super convenient. A specifically Nazarene mission of extending the chance at college to kids who might not have done well in high school or come from difficult backgrounds - if we think they can hack it - doesn't look great to the ratings agencies - yet I find it hard to call a school Nazarene that isn't specifically looking to highlight and support the poor and marginalized. Moving to a more academically based selection process might make a school more competitive, but it MIGHT also make it less Nazarene (again, not in student makeup - I don't think that's as important - but in mission and purpose).
These changes have been coming gradually, but consistently as a reality of the space the schools inhabit. There is some real necessity there. To compete in this broader marketplace, schools really need a "corner." You see Point Loma really embracing a social and environmentally conscious identity. ENC is working hard (and succeeding incredibly well) at embracing diversity. For any of the Nazarene higher ed institutions to keep moving they've got to develop these distinctives. One easy option appears to be "generically evangelical," competing with places like Messiah or Liberty or Wheaton (all good schools, mind you), and perhaps inhabiting a space that is less specifically Nazarene.
I believe a lot of these issues we've seen spring up of late fall under the category of searching for this identity, the right identity to thrive in the future. I don't envy those charged with managing these institutions. It's just a really, really difficult job. I'm not writing this to try and make some particular change or any change at all - it's more a (far too lengthy) explanation of why we find ourselves where we do that might, perhaps, help spur further conversation.
Our Nazarene schools have done a lot of great things, investing and training thousands of people to contribute positively to the world. They'll all likely continue to do this, but in the years ahead, challenges will make it difficult for them to be as connected to what it means to be Nazarene (if we know what that means anymore anyway) as they've been in the past. I hope and pray we'll find ways to meet and overcome those challenges.
Anyway, I got the book from the library and I was more than pleasantly surprised. It's the first time I've ever read a book where the forward/prologue/pre-chapter-one-author's-note (preface - that's the word I'm looking for) added any real value to the book. Dunham's totally defines her's. She wanted to write a book about life (in the vein of those plasticy-stepford-wives type women's guides of the '80's) the sort teaching women how to be perfect and have it all, Dunham just wanted hers to reflect real life. She truly does lay out her mistakes, failures, regrets, non-regrets, lessons, problems, and lack of solutions for all to see. It's exceptionally honest and mostly humble.
What was most intriguing (and refreshing) to me, was her early essays on sex. Granted, Dunham's perspective on sex and the rules by which she governs her sexual life are quite distinct from mine (as an evangelical minister), but I think they reflect some real truth, which is important for anyone to hear. Maybe I'm totally wrong here, but the message I got was that she'd had good experiences and bad experiences, but ultimately sex isn't something that should be used to define yourself or prove anything or learn anything - everything she needed to know she already knew.
That got me thinking about the Church and the ways in which we talk (or don't talk) about sex. Dunham's essay would never be acceptable discussion fodder in most churches because she only views some of the sex she's had as mistakes. The Church tends to take a pretty firm line on abstinence. We're pretty terrified of putting it into our children's heads that some sex isn't regrettable, even if it isn't wise. If they get the notion that sex might not be the entryway to hell, they might have sex.
This is not to downplay the importance of chastity and fidelity. Not at all. I believe that sex works best the more committed the relationship. I just think you're going to have less problems with the intricacies and nuances of sex if you're married to a mostly sane person who's committed to you beyond their own personal comfort. It's no guarantee things will work well, but, as I said, I think things generally work better the more committed the relationship.
I'm generally loathe to tell people what to do, but I certainly don't shy away from my conservative position on the matter. Conservative, in this instance, meaning that while there may be benefits to sex outside of marriage, generally the negative possibilities outweigh the positives. I don't believe things are necessarily cut and dry (even theologically), but I do tend to favor caution over risk where sex is concerned.
That's not a position most adolescents find very attractive (caution in general) and thus it terrifies the adults with impressionable youngsters around us whom we love. We all want our kids (or anyone we care about) to learn from our mistakes (or anyone's really), but in all honesty, most all of us need to make mistakes, even mistakes everyone was telling us about for years, in order to really decide for ourselves. Some warnings will go heeded. Others will go tested (sometimes repeatedly). That shouldn't stop us from sharing our perspective on things - giving the lessons anyway. They might not work the way we intend, but they'll work for someone, in some way - and those people will be grateful. Even then people who don't believe us and make the same mistakes themselves will thank us for caring enough to share with them (and might, possibly, if we're really lucky) listen to us more intently in the future.
What I think Lena Dunham was saying is that she didn't need to make sexual mistakes to know what she needed to know, but she did need to make them to know that she already knew it. She's got a liberal position on sex. Sex can be good, if it serves to celebrate the worth and value of both people involved, if it humanizes people rather than dehumanizing them. It's not a hedonistic, pleasure-hound kind of position (but I've never heard a defense of hedonism that wasn't entirely nihilistic at its core), but certainly one with more risk involved.
Choosing one position over another is not going to guarantee you anything. It's not as though the categories of "right" and "wrong" even make sense here. I've read too many of those articles with people bemoaning that what the Church taught them about sex really messed them up. People make different choices; people are both happy and unhappy with the choices they make, no matter what choice it is. Life works out well for some people and others get messed up. For church people, it might be a conservative messing up over a liberal one, but I hope we can all agree that it doesn't matter if the wind is blowing west or east when you spit into it.
It's the kind of dialogue that can deal honestly with real experience that will benefit people in the long run. I don't agree with everything Lena Dunham has to say about sex, but I applaud her honesty, her sincerity, and her willingness to speak against common perception and cultural norms.
The Church tends to teach kids sex is bad. We don't set out to do it, but it usually ends up that way. We say sex is good when you're married, but bad any other time, which becomes more confusing than explanatory. What we mean to say is that sex is important - when you have sex there are real emotional, social, spiritual, physical consequences. Some of those can be very good, others can be very bad. All in all it's pretty complicated and not necessarily something people can make sound judgments about during these later stages of human maturation.
Which means we want our kids to wait until they've got a better foundation in the world and are far enough beyond the hormonal catastrophe of their teenage years to form some general opinions about how they want their life to go. We want to spare our kids some mistakes. This is a worthy goal. What we often fail to do is speak honestly enough to give them tools for making decisions. The odds of making mistakes tend to multiply exponentially when we don't have accurate information.
It's good to assume it's possible to go through life without making sexual choices you'll later regret. It's that kind of hope which infuses our faith with something vital and formative. At the same time, we fail to acknowledge the reality that regrettable situations will arise. I think, ultimately, we're afraid that in telling kids there's a chance (even if it's a small one) they can have sex and not suffer any life-altering consequences, we're giving them carte blanche to explore their desires. We refrain from discussing sex rationally or theologically because we feel young people are utterly incapable of controlling themselves and thus scare tactics are more effective.
We tell our kids to avoid alcohol. We give them plenty of reasons why it's not a smart thing to do at this stage of life. We explain, both rationally and (hopefully) theologically, why the Church takes the position it does. Some kids heed the warning, others find out for themselves how they feel. In either event, we don't tell kids their lives will be irreparably damaged if they make the wrong choice because we recognize the importance of redemption and restoration.
So why doesn't it work the same way with sex?
It's probably generational. No one is ever completely comfortable talking about sex in ways it needs to be talked about. We're also not always sure exactly what we believe or why, so it's far easier to walk an either/or black/white divide and pray our kid isn't the one who gets pregnant. We've drawn a line of risk, ironically, at one of the things most likely to actually have a huge impact on people's lives.
Even stranger, the conversations about sex from liberal and conservative positions aren't all that different from one another. The range of opinion and conversation isn't so starkly divergent as to be unbridgeable. Whether one advocates abstinence or exploration, pretty much everyone cautions people to make healthy choices that reflect both your own worth and the value of the other, while keeping hormones and emotions in check well enough to make smart choices. In the end, it's not really about the sex - it's about what we believe about ourselves and what our actions say about our understanding of the world. Most people agree there.
As the Church, we can't just confine our understanding of sex to marriage. It's fine and honorable to believe and teach sex belongs only in marriage, but we can't (or shouldn't) arrive at that conclusion without a long sojourn through the fields of grey. You want to have an interesting discussion - talk sex and marriage and scripture and the terminally ill teenagers of The Fault in Our Stars. That's a veritable minefield of grey on the way to black and white.
I'm not sure why us "church people" keep saying getting a handle on sex is easy or straightforward when it just simply is not. Things are complicated and confusing, even if they're not ultimately fluid and undefinable. Perhaps the answer for the Church is not in saying what we already say better, but in saying some things we often just refuse to say. What's wrong with being honest and trusting the relationships we've built with young people who actually care what we have to say? Teenagers may be pretty stupid sometimes*, but they're a lot smarter than we give them credit for.
*Aren't we all?
Regardless, they spur heated debate over the way our society owns and handles firearms. I'm talking about guns to start with, because it was this particular issue that got me thinking today. This post is not really about guns - at least not specifically. It's more about the way society handles its own irresponsibility.
The bottom line is: people should be responsible with their guns. There is no reason guns have to be a public hazard. This is what every NRA member and hunting enthusiast says; and they're right. We may not all agree on which uses for firearms are appropriate and which aren't, but I hope we can say, at least intellectually, devoid of specific context, that guns don't have to be a problem in society.
The same is true of alcohol. It doesn't have to be a problem. There are loads of people in the world who drink responsibly. We can argue over how it's sold, marketed, regulated, and enforced, but intellectually, we can say that alcohol doesn't have to be a problem in society.
It is, though. We have massive binge drinking problems and routine DUIs that lead to destruction and death. Simply because it is not a problem for many individuals, doesn't mean alcohol isn't a problem for our society as a whole.
I am a part of the Church of the Nazarene, which has long took flack for it's unabashed abstention from alcohol (and, in it's early days, was driving the bandwagon for prohibition). I think it's safe to say our understanding of our abstention has evolved over time. Still, I think we're pretty firmly committed to it - not because alcohol is inherently evil or because people can't drink responsibly, simply because, as a society, we haven't figured out how to handle our liquor.
I suspect a lot of it has to do with our hyper-individualism. What my neighbor does is none of my business, nor is it my responsibility. Which is true right up until the point he's beating his kids in a drunken stupor or she's crashing a car into a wall of pedestrians. Then it is both our (collective) business and responsibility.
If our society could figure out how to properly interact with each other in supportive and redemptive ways that rendered alcohol unproblematic, the stance of the Church of the Nazarene would likely become irrelevant. It should be possible, it just hasn't yet been realized.
We (I'm talking society now, not my denomination) have generally recognized the real issues with irresponsible alcohol use and we've taken steps to address them. Age limits, purchase limits, accountability for bars and restaurants over-serving, the education of minors, penalties for drunk driving, etc. It can be argued we've gone too far or not far enough.
There are similar measures in place for some guns and some people at certain times. I'm hopeful that the conversation about our societal irresponsibility with guns and our collective responsibility to do something about it is moving in the direction of productive conversation. With each tragedy, it seems people are more willing to talk to each other and figure out how to bridge the gap between what should be and what really is.
In each of these cases, we have to be willing to sacrifice something valuable (usually some measure of individual freedom) for the common benefit. There's a lot of ideology mixed up in that, a lot of stubbornness and pride, but in the end, I think we'll get there. As much as we don't like it, we do (most of us) recognize that we have to live with each other.
I do think perhaps one of the biggest stumbling blocks to taking action on these two or any of the other societal problems that shouldn't be but are, is a fear that once something is sacrificed, it will never be returned. This is where the fear of big government stems from in the first place. "You take my assault rifle today, you'll be back for my hunting rifle tomorrow."
It's a fear and mistrust that works both ways.
There are plenty in the Church of the Nazarene who argue changing the alcohol stance in any way is a slippery slope to immorality. That argument isn't entirely without merit, but it does betray a lack of trust (justifiable or not).
To see this in action, at least in the US, you have to go no farther than public education. We have a long history and tradition of free public education in this country. It wasn't always universal or mandatory or even popular, but it is part of the cultural fabric.
At some point during the last century, the powers that be realized that education was vital for the next generation to succeed; there were just less opportunities available for an uneducated work force. At the very least, the minimum standard needed to be raised.
That didn't go over too well in some places. This, coupled with the economic and racial disparities across the diverse landscape led to increased control and organization on a federal level.
This was an important and needed change - a sacrifice of freedom (often unwilling) to ensure a sea change in the perception and impact of public education. Local communities should be able to educate their children effectively. It just wasn't happening.
Nowadays, though, people generally understand the importance of a basic education. There may be cultures or families or individuals who don't believe they have a chance to really receive such an education, but no one denies it's value. The movement has succeeded.
Now, instead of local communities fighting higher authorities about public education being a waste of time and money, local communities are fighting to increase and improve their educational experience.
Issues of money and equity and all that still need to be figured out, but it might just be time to give local communities control again - return the responsibility. There's a pretty good chance, at least in this instance, the thing that should be happening, might actually be possible.
This post doesn't exactly have a neat conclusion. I was hoping to illustrate the ways we do, and fail to, trust each other; the problems inherent in our society; and the need for sacrifice and interdependence. Our problems are our problems, even if they're not our (personal) problems. I think solutions work the same way.
This isn't going to be a diatribe against home schooling. We all know some people do that well and others do it poorly. It's not really against private education or charter schools or online school or any other alternative form of education. My wife was home schooled for half her education; I went to a private high school. I am all for people choosing the best course of action for their kids. I know a lot of people who have special circumstances or needs and make decisions accordingly. I don't want to disparage the choices other have made, but I wanted to lay down why we're committed to public education for our daughter.
First off, it's not because public education is great. It's not. The reason private schools and home schools and charter schools, even unschool, are so popular is because there are a often a lot better ways to educate the next generation than the way it's done in public school. That's just fact.
It's also not because my wife is a public school teacher. Although, having and supporting public schools is what keeps our family in food and clothing. My wife, while certainly not paid what she deserves for the time she puts in, is well compensated. The salary and benefits provided by the State of Delaware allow us to live comfortably. For that I'm really grateful.
For the most part, when it all comes down, we choose public schools because some kids don't have the option.
I spent some time in Kansas City, volunteering at a youth center that worked with what might be called "at risk" kids. More than anything, it gave a little peek into what had been (and maybe still is?) one of the more dysfunctional public school systems in this country. Oddly, though, their chosen method of redress, lots of charter schools, didn't seem to solve any problems. In fact, things kept getting worse.
I noticed that most every kid whose parents were in any way on the ball, were able to apply for and be admitted to a charter school of some kind. Yes, some are better than others and some are downright awful. But, over time, given the system, we could assume that the best schools would emerge and, if given enough space, could accommodate any kids whose family wanted them there.
One of the big reasons for such charter success, however, is the ability to turn kids down. Whether because of learning difficulties beyond the scope of the school, parents unwilling to be involved, or the downright lack of proper decorum from the student themselves, the really "tough" kids got funneled back into public school. Public schools that were then comprised almost entirely of students with no parental support.
I guess what it boils down to is our belief that we're (and this is the proverbial we, not just my wife and I) - we're not just responsible for the education of our own children, but for the education of all children. As unfair as it seems, we're not isolated individuals; we are necessarily interconnected.
The average cost of keeping someone in prison, even at its most favorable ratio*, is a little more than twice the cost of educating them. We pay for other people's kids one way or another.
Any large, public institution is going to have problems - and change is going to be difficult to come by. That's the nature of the beast. Public education has its own unique and often outrageous series of challenges. There are lots of good, honest, caring people who work tirelessly to improve our public education system, while also providing an alternative education for their own kids. That's an important choice and one I won't disparage in any way.
For us, though, we value having that skin in the game. I think it provides a bit more credibility to speak where speaking is needed. There's real value in true solidarity. It's easier to combat poverty if you live in the midst of it. It's more painful, for sure, but its a shared pain. And, not to bring theology into this (although I am a preacher), but if there's one thing that makes God truly worthy of worship it's God's decision to enter into our pain and suffer with us.
My daughter may not get the same depth and rigor in public school that she could get other places, but with active and involved parents, we're not really worried about her learning what she needs to learn to get into college. I'm even more excited about her being part of a flawed community that works together, for good and for ill, to try and live life well.
Our best efforts will not keep our daughter from pain and suffering - neither her's, nor others' - but we would like to instill in her the notion that there are no hopeless causes.
I recognize this post can sound like I view public schools as a terrible place in need of redemption. All things (and people) need redemption, of course. But for all its faults, there are a lot of dedicated people who give their lives to making public education the best it can be. My wife is one of those people - and she works with a lot of others.
There are lots of great public schools with great students who provide the kind of high class education that most alternatives can only dream of providing. It can be and is done well in a lot of places.
In the end, though, most people would be supportive of successful schools, those that provide a great education to everyone. In the end, though, there are kids who fall through the cracks - sometimes willfully, sometimes through no fault of their own - and we're committed to following them down those cracks and being present in any way we can.
Public education is where that happens and so it's where we need to be. We'll bring our daughter along because we want to be sure every child knows they are as important to us as she is.
*The highest average per pupil spending average I could find is around $11,500; the lowest average per inmate spending average I could find is around $25,000. Most estimates places the cost of incarceration between 7 and 10 times higher than the cost of education, but I want to be as fair as possible.
We see the same in education. When I was growing up and now when my wife talks to er students, there's just a general understanding that basic education is the key to all the good things we want out of life. Why do we send our kids to school? Why do we pay for them to go to college? Why do I have to learn geometry or the capitals of African countries? The answer has always been the same - to put you in the best position to succeed, find happiness, or be fulfilled.
As a Christian, however, none of those things are a motivating factor for me.
Don't get me wrong, I'm not saying that happiness, success, and fulfillment are bad things or dangerous things or things to be avoided. I'd rather be happy, successful, and fulfilled than not be - I'm just saying they can't be the goals or the motivation behind our actions.
The more I think about it, even that idea of success, for ourselves or our loved ones, is a bit too self centered to make much sense in the Kingdom of God. Perhaps our better motivating factor is the Kingdom itself. We are to live with the goal of making the Kingdom more evident in the world.
My dreams for my daughter are not that she'd be happy, successful, or fulfilled (although those things would be nice), but simply that her life would point towards Christ - that the things she does would benefit God's redemptive mission in the world.
What does that mean, exactly?
Well it means we're not our own. Christian freedom is entirely different than the civic definition that gets tossed around so cavalierly these days. We're not individuals. When we step into our role as followers of Christ, we step into a larger people - we assume our intended place in a created order that was meant to function as one.
We're not in it for ourselves anymore.
Scott Daniels talked about marriage in a sermon once - he said his advice for those young couples who come doe-eyed to his office to announce their engagements is something like: you don't get married because you love each other, you get married because the Kingdom will be better off if you do.
It's a challenging remark for marriage, but it applies equally in other areas of life. Are we doing what we do because it will make us happy or because it will make the Kingdom more evident?
It's not an easy answer. I mean, has your reading of this post made you happier? Has it made the Kingdom any more evident in the world? Can the same questions be asked of the time it took me to write it?
Last summer, my wife and I spent ten days in California. It was our first real vacation together in our seven years of marriage. (Real vacation meaning that we were not on our way to some place else and visits to family were not involved.) I was called out, point blank, by someone asking - "you're always talking about sacrifice and humility and caring for the poor - how can you justify the expense of a vacation like that?"
It was a good question. It still is.
My response that day (and I can only chalk my presence on mind up to divine intervention - more evidence that the vacation was appropriate!) was that we're not here to run ourselves ragged making things right. Justice is God's business. We are supposed to be living into the Kingdom - and celebration, relaxation, rest, is a part of that.
Our vacation transportation was provided by frequent flyer miles, we rented the smallest, most fuel efficient car possible, stayed half an hour from the beach, made our own meals half the time, skipped almost everything with an admission cost, and stayed the second half of the trip at the home of friends. I feel like we did our best to avoid self-indulgence (although beachside mahi-mahi tacos was walking a fine line) and to focus on rest.
Is that the right answer? I don't know.
Is the Kingdom more evident in the world because we took that trip? I don't know.
I hope so. Education isn't wrong. Success isn't wrong. Happiness isn't wrong - we just need to keep the proper goals in mind. Whether it's a mathematics degree, advanced training in spiritual direction, or a lifetime of hours on the serving line at the soup kitchen - we need to be shaped and formed and prepared to participate in the Kingdom in the ways God created us to participate. We might not all need Calculus to do it - but occasionally we need blog posts and vacations.
