The Conservative Hypocrisy on Life

I have seven kids.

And they all have the same father, and the same mother.

If I were a reality TV star, or if I were a wealthy real estate developer to the wealthy, that would make me an icon. They'd be displaying me as an example of American family values, and talking about the sanctity of life.

But the same people that worship at the shrine of Duggar have some very harsh words for families working on less than a median income. So before I continue I will answer a few questions for you: yes, I know what causes that, no we're not part of the Quiverfull movement, and I don't have a personal opinion on the Duggars.

I would be lying, though, if I said that our church homes didn't influence our choices. We were told how precious life is, and how children are a blessing. We were not told those same churches consider them a middle class blessing, and that poor families were to be shamed.

I love every one of my kids, and while there are things I would do differently, I couldn't imagine a present reality without every one in my life. They all bring unique personalities and perspectives to the table, and while I haven't been blessed with a lot of money, I've certainly been blessed with a lot of love. My children are the reason I even endure a workaday existence.

Yes, it would be nice if I made more money. But, see, I actually have a degree. One I actually was hired to use in the town where I live. The problem is, IT jobs are in very short supply here, and I stuck around after I had left my old job. And thus, the workaday existence.

But where I get extremely frustrated is when I see the same people that feel compelled to openly condemn my family and I claiming to value "life". They celebrate it as a hypothetical, but they're not so friendly with it when it's sitting right in front of them.

Oh, sure, folks have helped us at times...sometimes overwhelmingly so...but always with the disapproving "don't you know where that comes from" stare, and a belittling and condescending attitude.

This has often made me feel that the commitment to life is often conditional. It is cherished when it is convenient.

And it is that inconsistency that makes it harder and harder for me to defend the conservative church.

Exhausted and Empty

DISCLAIMER (As these, sadly, have become necessary these days): Please, before reading, understand what this article is and is not. It is NOT asking for pity, or condemning anyone or any entity. It IS my personal thoughts, my personal journal, in the hopes that someone else can see themselves in them and gain strength through a sense of understanding they are not alone.

Today, I have nothing. I feel spent, I feel drained, and I have no idea how to communicate that. We live in a world where hyperbole is so often the norm that when someone's truly run to the end of the road, there's no way to express that without someone feeling they are saying things that they honestly weren't saying.

I am tired of being the much maligned "liberal" in an area where that is a swear word. I am tired of personal attacks for holding an opinion that doesn't match others. I am tired of unending criticism with absolutely no recognition for the validity of my thoughts and ideas. And I've found it crosses the spectrum; if I challenge any of the ideas of any of my friends, regardless of ideology, it seems that it's open season directed at me.

To some the answer is simple: just shut up. And if it were that easy for me, I would. But I shut up for a lot of years, and I've seen things happen that never should have taken place. I've seen workers mocked and criticized publicly for asking for a fair wage, then mocked and criticized publicly for receiving benefits to fill in the gaps, and finally mocked and criticized publicly for getting tired of the system, taking the ball and going home. We tell them to pull themselves up by the bootstraps, when these fellows don't have any boots.

I can't shut up when I see these things. I can't shut up when I see families agonizing as the roof over their head drains down on them with no long term answer to the problem. Or when health issues are too long neglected because the social stigma of being on Medicaid is so strong that you don't dare to walk into the small community hospital where HIPAA is nonexistent. God forbid you're on the poorer side of things in America; if you are, in many folks' eyes, you are simply a parasite.

I am tired of hoping when hope is futile; tired of investing in a future that never will come. Tired of the monthly reminder of a future I naively invested in believing this was that critical last ingredient to put me over the top, only to see less qualified candidates selected to do the job I worked for because they either don't like my politics, or they don't like the pay scale that should accompany those qualifications.

I'm tired of spending my life on a treadmill with no clear path to escape.

And if that offends you, then maybe we need to go different directions. Because God knows I've been criticized enough already!

Crossing Yet Another Bridge

I'm done with faith healing financing.

For the 27 years I have been a Christian, I have believed what I was taught: that if I gave first, that I would have more. That God would bless my hand, and I would be financially prosperous.

I believed a lie. A lie that I believe was concocted specifically to enrich those who were bestowed the elite status of "minister". While I know a good deal of ministers who work for rather pedestrian wages, I know only a handful who are genuinely aware of the struggles affecting the working class.

I have worked this entire time waiting to turn the corner. While my journey has had a few pessimistic bouts, it has generally had an optimistic bent, one that has taken a decidedly negative turn in the last ten years or so.

I built what I have from the lies I was told from the pulpit. I believed that I should trust God with the size of my family, and now the burden of seven kids (6, soon to be 5, at home) has become too much. And guess what? Those same pulpit prognosticators claim that if I turn to the government for assistance, I suffer from some sort of character defect.

I have never turned my back on God. And, God willing, I never intend to. But I've spent a lot of years spinning my wheels, hoping, trying to build for a future that never arrived. For the past four years, I have tried to launch a ministry with decreasing enthusiasm, as I have yet to muster a single person who actually supports it, even as they've kissed up to me and told me what a good idea it was.

The reality of it is, I'm finished. I have been spending money I don't have in hopes that somehow my energy would cause a return on my investment. For the last three months, I have been managing a radio station, and it has been 2 1/2 of those months since I drew a full paycheck, even at minimum wage salary, although I am drawing full time hours.

The station needs more to fix than I can possibly raise, and my attempt at crowdfunding has netted a grand total of $25.00, which will purchase 1/100th of ONE of the two power supplies we need, let alone the other equipment. I've genuinely tried, and I've failed, for whatever reason.

I have no energy left, I can't honestly say I have much joy left. I thought I could do this, but like so many other things, thinking I could do it was not enough to sustain it.

And, more tellingly, I've failed to create a single, true friend with whom I can discuss these things. I'm consigned to putting them out on an Internet blog because, frankly, nobody cares, and the blog at least lets me feel like I can get those feelings out.

I'm not bitter. I'm not angry. I figure, like everything else, this all has come about for a reason. And I am richer for the experience.

But I'm also exhausted. And done.

What the Evangelical Church Often Fails to Get

In the aftermath of last week's SCOTUS ruling, I see a lot of fear from my fellow Christians. Fear that their ideals, their values, will be alienated.

And I get it. I really do. And there's a part of me that sympathizes with them more than my liberal friends would like to know.

But in the midst of all of the hubbub, after the dust had settled, something occurred to me.

That alienation they are feeling today? I've had to live with that same alienation for 26 years, as I've tried to find my place within the evangelical church. Not because of the lifestyle I've lived, nope...I've been married for 20 years to the same woman, have never betrayed that covenant, I've raised my kids to the best of my ability, and I have always tried to be an agent of compassion and grace.

No, the alienation comes about from so many because I'm not condemning enough. Because I don't judge people on welfare without knowing them, because I won't agree with the idea of kicking undocumented workers who've committed no crime out of the country...but mostly because I refuse to condemn my LGBT neighbors.

And if you're looking for me to change in those positions, it's not going to happen.

I believe, and I remain firm in the belief that conviction is the job of the Holy Spirit. It is not mine. And I really do not want to be subject to the kind of judgment I believe I'm due. As such, I refuse to subject others to that judgment.

The one, the single objection that I have heard repeatedly from others within the church is that their refusal to marry homosexuals might cost them their tax exempt status.

To that concern, I have to ask the question: who do you serve, God or Mammon? Scripture is clear that you cannot serve both.

For 3 years, out of my own pocket, I have self funded a very small, one person ministry. It's not near what I would like it to be, but I chose at the outset to refuse nonprofit status. I chose it because it is important that my motives in this particular ministry never become financial.

I say that not to brag, I am saying it simply because, in the absence of tax exempt status, you find a way. And while it will be hard, it does not mean the end of any ministry.

I beg my brothers and sisters in Christ to remember that at the core of this rather contentious issue are people who are simply trying as best they can to live out their faiths. And that refusing to condemn another person for their failings is not a sin.

Thoughts on the SCOTUS Marriage Decision

I have hesitated in writing these thoughts. I don't want to, as they will almost certainly cost me friends.

But I feel I must.

With the Supreme Court ruling on same sex marriage coming down today, it puts me in  the middle of a decision that has, in the minds of some, left this country deeply divided. I pray for healing, and want to make my position as clear as possible.

From my earliest years, I have been an outcast. I have never fit in in any social group. Ever. It has cost me, it has cost my family dearly. To the point where I have actually wondered if taking my own life would help my family experience a normalcy that they never can with me.

In September, 1988, I made a life changing decision for Jesus. For my atheist friends, please respect that and leave it there. It made a fundamental change in my life.

What it didn't do was solve the social problem. In church after church, town after town, I have always been a sort of pariah. I know the prayer of Jabez well (and it's not the prayer you think it is), because I, too, have prayed that God would cause me not to cause pain on those I love.

In the midst of it, though, I have found that the people who have always been there for me, without fail, have been the people I have found outside the church. The drunks, the druggies, the LGBT community, Wiccans, atheists, agnostics, and Unitarians alike. And yes, some Christians...just not the ones that tend to be front and center within the church.

To the church, I have, more often than not, been an inconvenience. In my diverse group of outcasts, I have found one thing I never did within the church house walls: a family. And that family is quite literally the only reason I've survived this long.

In the church, I have found judgment. I have found believers willing to embrace Genesis 19, but not Ezekial 16:49; a group, by and large, of people who have called me a communist and worse, for citing James 5:1-6 as justification for a living wage. A group who, despite my being married 20 years to the same woman, despite my willingness to help in a variety of capacities, has never quite considered me "good enough". Among the outcasts, I just am.

So it begs the question: Why, then, would I reject these people who have stood with me, when they ask me to stand with them? It's not a matter of "us vs. them"; there's room for all of us. And if you want to encircle us and throw stones, first give us the chance to read off YOUR failings, your shortcomings. Although, truthfully, we won't. We'll probably just offer you cake (an idea stolen unabashedly from my friend Angie!)

This decision does not strip away your right to worship. This decision does not affect your right to preach the Gospel without apology and without conviction. While it may affect your right to remain tax free, it seems to me Jesus did have something to say about paying taxes being our duty.

This decision was the right one, and it doesn't in one way diminish the sovereignty of God. If God can be diminished by 9 folks in robes, then He really wasn't sovereign to begin with.

I love the church, and I love my friends outside the church. Because that is the simplest and most important commandment that is asked of me.

If that makes you feel I am not Christian, so be it. You are not the judge to whom I will answer. If that makes you feel that you can no longer be friends, I wish you nothing but the best on your journey, and I will be waiting if you ever desire to change that. But I will not leave the side of those whom I love.

And if that costs me your friendship, then I realize simply it was never mine.

Compassion is a Trait of the Penitent, Not the Perfect

Note: this article was inspired by a challenge issued to write a story around the opening words in this article, which was culled from a Facebook post I've made. It's probably not what the individual was looking for, and I'll still try in that direction, but it's what first came to mind:I am actually more self aware than you realize. I'm deeply flawed and imperfect. I get it. And in examining those weaknesses, those flaws, I've come to understand even more about the nature of compassion.

See, I live in a "grace only" world, and, while I champion the doctrine, I don't quite feel it. Grace is a wonderful thing, it's a marvelous thing, but it is not the end of the story. I know and I trust that God has given me a clean slate, that the ledger when I stand before Him will be free of blemish, free of mark.

But that does not erase the marks from the ledgers of the people I've wronged through my life. They will walk through life bearing the marks of my past transgressions, and those marks are not so easily erased.

How woefully tragic, how heartbreaking, if the mistakes I have made are the very marks that keep them from the cross.

I have often stood in the middle of a group of people, in deep pain, in deep heartache, wondering why nobody around me could see it. It bugged me for an awful lot of years.

And then it hit me: I see that pain in others. Someone who has not seen that pain is less likely to see it in others. Someone who has never lived homeless or very close to it will not recognize the defeated shuffle of someone who has tried to hitchhike for hours, only to ultimately resign themselves to the 30 mile hike to the next town. Someone who has never known hunger will not understand when confronted with the look of hunger from another. It is much, much easier to see the need in others when we've had that need ourselves.

So what truly sparks compassion is an aching in our own hearts and souls. A need to express ourselves in reaching out to heal others. Compassion, then, is a trait of the penitent, not the perfect.

I cannot go backwards along the path that I have taken to get to this point. I can only go forwards. And it is quite possible that some of the people whom I have wronged in the past will never come before me again. And so the only response I can muster is to minister in the people I meet to the wrongs inflicted on them by others and hope that somewhere along the path is another likeminded Samaritan ministering to those whom I have wronged.

And this is where things get muddy, because many of my "grace only" friends would call that teaching salvation by works. But I would contend nothing is further from the truth. For I am in no way under the illusion that those works factor in any way into my own salvation; I am laboring on in the hopes they may factor in the salvation of another.

And that, really, is all that any of us can do.

What People Who Don't Come From a Dysfunctional Family Don't Understand

As the past weekend ground to a close, I received news that an aunt of mine had passed away. Yesterday, I was given funeral service times, and although I am unable to attend, it brought painfully back to mind the fact that I live a different existence; one that not everyone understands.

See, like most of my family, I didn't know this aunt at all. I have met her in the past, but I was a child and only remember being pressed into throngs of people who loomed much larger than my hobbit sized body. When I stretch for a visual image, I bring up a memory bank of several, but wouldn't really be able to eliminate more than one or two of those faces from being possibly hers.

It seems almost selfish to say that I look at large families at friendly gatherings, and I'm a little jealous. The companionship they enjoy has not been a significant part of my existence, and it tweaks a little part of me.

Now, in the interest of full disclosure, and not wanting to elicit a pity party, I must honestly confess that some part of the fault of that was mine. My in laws had some of those gatherings, and seeking greener pastures, I chose to leave the area my wife considers home and move on. For the brief time I actually saw it, I didn't genuinely appreciate it.

But as I've grown older I think of things I wish I'd known. Cousins that I wish I was able to join with in sharing some of the joys and heartaches of parenting, aunts and uncles I wish I could mine for their wisdom and life experiences. But the road I've walked didn't lead in that direction, and so we spend holidays trying to make the holidays better for others who don't have one. That certainly brings with it its own share of happiness, but it also reminds me that there is a whole realm of "normal" that I will never truly understand.

And as my family gathers to my aunt's funeral and prepares her for her final burial, I find myself without the grief that I should feel. If, by some chance I were able to go, I would be in the most horrifying situation imaginable for me: in the midst of a roomful of strangers, all with families, that I should know but don't.

I am eternally grateful for the family that I do have; it's far more than I ever expected or deserved. But I also, at times, find myself wishing that I understood just what it means to be "normal".