The Language of Children

(This is the second in a series of posts about parenting, children, birth control and abortion.  To read part one click here.)

Let me explain what an accident is. If I am driving down the road, and hit a patch of oil, and careen out of control into another car, that is an accident. I certainly hope that no one gets hurt. I didn’t mean for it to happen. I didn’t drive recklessly or over the speed limit. It was an accident.

But if I intentionally drive over that middle line and ram my car into oncoming traffic? That is not an accident. Now, I may have made sure that I and everyone in my car was wearing a seat belt. But if someone is hurt I don’t get to claim “I didn’t mean for you to get bumps and bruises.” No. If you drive head on into oncoming traffic that is not an accident.

If you have sex, a pregnancy is not an accident. That child is not an accident. And we need to stop calling them such.

The way we talk about children often borders on shameful. They are accidents. They are expensive. They are burdens.

And sometime our more subtle ways of talking about kids is even worse. We post on Facebook about how tired we are because of these little ones. We describe with utter joy any moment when they are not with us.

In fact, from the way many people talk about their children, I want to ask them why. Why do you have them? If they are this much burden, this much of a drag, if they keep you from doing almost everything you want to do, why have them? And certainly, why have more?

Now, maybe these parents don’t meant it. They are simply venting frustrations. Actually, they are very glad to have those kiddos in their life. That could be the case. I’m sure that for some it is. But if they really want and love and find joy in those kids, then, why all the complaining?

I think we complain and gripe because that is what the culture is teaching us. A parent should be tired and whiney. They should be jealous of all those with less responsibility. Having children is this giant burden that robs you of your identity, friends and money. And that is how we describe it. And after describing it that way for long enough, we come to believe that’s the truth.

Admittedly, parenting is hard. It is difficult. It is tiring. Parenting is often a struggle. Sometimes exhausting. Occasionally heartbreaking. And to top it off it is probably the most important job in the world. So there is also lots of pressure. Which is why it matters so much how we talk about our children or children in general. Parenting is hard enough without a constant reminder that we didn’t plan for this guy, or really want another, or wish they would just hurry up and grow up.

You see I am not just concerned about the way we talk about children affects them (although I can’t imagine what constantly overhearing that you are an accident does for your self-esteem). I am interested in how our language affects us.

Constant negativity in any arena will push us to see the difficulties much more than the joys.

A society that consistently complains about the burden and work of children can’t help but teach us that our goal should be to limit or avoid these hardships. Through birth control or even through abortion.

Here is my crazy idea: What if Christians, and especially Christian parents, determined to only say positive things about children? Imagine if every word that came out of our mouths regarding little ones was seasoned with joy, thoughtfulness, gratitude and appreciation. Wouldn’t it be great if the world around us said, “Boy those church people sure do like children.”

Now, some may argue that is unrealistic. That everything isn’t always great. True. It just seems to me that our culture has swung so far the other way, that we are so bombarded with the negative about parenting and children, that us speaking about joys and gratitude might start pulling us back more toward the middle.

Jesus said, “Let the little children come to me, and do not hinder them.” Is that how we feel? Is that what we say? Do we want them with us? Are they a burden or a blessing?

Planned? Parenthood

(This is the first in a series of posts about children, parenting, and abortion.)

With so much in the news about Planned Parenthood, I wanted to speak to something that rarely gets talked about. I do this not as a pastor or citizen, but rather as a father. And what I want to talk about is not federal dollars or hidden cameras or even abortion. No, I want to talk about slogans.

Planned Parenthood’s slogan for years was “Every Child A Wanted Child”. Which sounds great. Who thinks it wouldn’t be a better world if every child that was born was greeted with joy and expectation? I love to hear someone get so excited over the little one they are about to bring into the world. And I know how important it is, what a difference it makes, for a child to be loved by people who are ready and capable.

Where I differ with Planned Parenthood, and to be honest with many people including other Christians, is how to get there.

We have become convinced that a baby should come when we say so. We use pills and condoms and iuds and shots to wait for (in our opinion) the perfect moment. When we finally have it all together. When we have just the right partner, the right job, the right financial situation. And yet…that is not how it works.

I have yet to meet a single person who claims that when they had their first child, no matter when, they were truly ready.

How do you actually prepare for the late nights with a colicky baby? Yes, we may mature as we get older (some people definitely do not!). But, while we can promote growth and self-discipline, that is not what people mean when they say they are ready for a child (or for another child).

No, what we mean is typically this: I have a feeling that says I am now ready for a baby.

Many things may or may not play into that feeling. Financial situation, marital status, age, employment and a myriad of factors that are impossible to quantify. Yet, people with no money in the bank will want a baby, and those with millions may say they are not ready. There is no factor that is magic. Because we are talking about a feeling.

So, on the one hand we seem to be waiting for a very specific feeling that says “I am ready”. But there is another side as well.

There is a logic that says that giving people access to birth control actually reduces abortion. And it makes sense. Without the birth control Planned Parenthood helps provide, some of those women would probably get an abortion.

But we have to think deeper. What if our reliance on birth control has led us to the false belief that whatever I do sexually, there shouldn’t be consequences? What if the fact that we feel like we can control when we get pregnant, leads us to believe we should completely control that whole process? Therefore, of course abortion is an option, because our mentality is that we shouldn’t have to deal with a pregnancy we don’t want. I don’t have that feeling that I am ready for a child, so…

Maybe we have more abortions, because our sexual behavior requires no maturing. What if our reliance on avoiding pregnancy while still having the pleasure of sex, is part of what keeps us immature? Think about it. The birth control industry teaches us that we should enjoy this intimate act, but we shouldn’t have to deal with a single consequence. I should be able to have sex whenever and with whomever I want without cost. We think we can make sex “safe”, but we are fooling ourselves. There is nothing “safe” about it. But, one of the things we have put to great risk by believing sex can be without consequence is our own spiritual and emotional growth.

So, the way we have sex does not require or foster maturing. And since we are not maturing, we simply wait for a feeling that tells me the time is now.

What if there is another way, a different path?

A Road Less Travelled

I must really love kids. At least that is how some people see it. They assume that having a large family means that was the goal. Others think we are crazy, or that we belong to some type of cult that worships pregnancy (I actually laughed out loud writing that.)

But the truth is much stranger.

You see, I don’t have seven children because seven times my wife and I determined that we were ready. Sure, we talked about that. Living in a society where people constantly talk about ready or not ready, or how they are “trying”, or that their youngest was an “accident”, you can’t help but think that way. But that has not been our determining factor. No, the reason we have seven kids is because…

See, you really want to know.   I find this all the time. People will talk with me who are obviously flabbergasted. They can’t even imagine a reason. It is so far removed from our cultural expectations. Because we have all bought in. We may frown upon abortion, but we do believe that we know best when it comes to the exact right number and timing of children.

And that is what my wife and I have given up. We have determined that actually, we may not know best. That our “feeling” shouldn’t be the all-determining factor. That our selfishness is too great. That for every child to be wanted requires us to want whatever child comes our way.  And that wanting any child is a spiritual discipline.

That doesn’t mean I look down on someone who doesn’t have children or doesn’t want children or uses birth control. I don’t. But I do believe that most people I know have never thought outside that box. Birth control is assumed. What would happen if we no longer assumed?

It certainly doesn’t mean I look with disdain on a teenage mom, or a college student who has an abortion. No. In fact, they have my utmost sympathy. They are being dragged through a culture that has taught them only one way to think: Have sex when you want-get pregnant when you want. For millennia sex and pregnancy were intimately connected. You can’t suddenly unplug them and not expect something to happen.

As a kid, my family would often go and eat Mexican food. After filling up on chips, salsa, nachos, refried beans, enchiladas and everything else, we would be very slowly making our way out of the restaurant when my father would say, “ooh, I am not ever doing that again.” And yet, a few days later, there we were once again filling up on chimichangas and tamales. If we could have taken a pill that would undue or shield us from the consequences of that meal, we probably would have. After all, we would have eaten Tex-Mex every day if we had the money and the stomach for it. Luckily, no such pill exists. Otherwise, I would never eat a vegetable or a salad. Tex-Mex all the time for me. Which would be horrible for me.

Anytime we divorce the normal consequences of an action from that action we are incentivizing behavior. That is what we are doing with birth control. It incentivizes sex on the front end, and may create a culture where abortion seems reasonable on the back-end.

So, in response to the outrage and counter-outrage about the Planned Parenthood videos, I am not calling for people who are having abortions to stop. I am calling for us to consider something much bigger. What if we changed our entire outlook on children? What if we decided to want every child? What if we looked at the tight bonds that exist between marriage, sex, pregnancy and family and held them up not simply as nice ideals but as real possibilities?  What if we fostered the idea that “every child a wanted child” isn’t just a slogan, it can be a reality?

Are we at least willing to consider that there might be another way?

(Next Week: The way we talk about children and how it influences our choices)

Not Surprised by the Duggars

I hate to do this, but let me begin with a disclaimer: I have never seen “The Duggars.” I know they have a TV show about them raising a bunch of kids. I have never watched it. Not once. Partly because I do not have cable. Partly because I have enough to do without watching someone else who has plenty to do. And partly because if I do watch TV I want it to be a slight escape from a life of raising and homeschooling numerous children. So everything I am about to say is based entirely on ignorance. But as you will see, that may actually help.

What I do know is this: I am not surprised.

Whoa, wait a minute. Not surprised? Is that because I always thought these people were a bunch of hypocrites? No. Am I not shocked because I think the way they raise their kids destined this? No. As I said, I don’t know these people, don’t watch their show.

The reason I am not surprised is this: Sin gets in.

No matter all the other stuff circulating around this (liberal against conservative, homeschooling and public schooling, bunch of kids versus a small family, and a billion other things) one fact is inescapable: Sin gets in.

You can’t hide from sin. Homeschooling isn’t the problem, sin is. Just as public schooling isn’t the problem, sin is. Sin is a power, a force that is relentless. That doesn’t mean that we shouldn’t seek better ways to do things. We should. Ideas should be weighed against others. Studies assessed. But the ultimate reality we sometimes refuse to face head on is this: Sin doesn’t stop because we do things well. No matter what our version of “well” is.

A government program can rearrange who has the money, but it can’t destroy greed. A family can shelter their kids from the media, but lust finds ways in. Background checks and bathroom buddies may help, but they aren’t foolproof. No, at some point we all must face the truth; sin finds a way.

I wish it was otherwise. That the perfect blend of psychology, sociology, laws, etc…could form some sort of shield. I long for a magic formula. If you will make sure your kids don’t watch this movie or hang out with that person, everything will be honky-dory. It simply doesn’t exist.

In response, some of us have decided to build a fort. To shelter our kids and families. To try to keep sin out with lots of rules and regulations. We live in fear of our kids being exposed to the wrong people. I understand that fear. It recognizes the power of sin. But often that fear which so gets the power of sin, doesn’t recognize the power of God. It is often empowered by the belief that doing enough things the right way somehow makes me ineligible for the bad stuff. But it doesn’t. And often those who have bought this fort mentality implode when sin finds a way through the back door.

But others have tried another route.  Since sin gets in, then we can do nothing, and we do almost nothing. We give in to the notion that sin is unstoppable, so why try.  This comes out in phrases like, “Well, teens are gonna have sex, nothing you can do.” Or, “She’s just a teenage girl, that’s how they act.” Or even, “He’s in the Terrible Two’s”. All of these ways of discussing people, especially children, assume the worst in people. They are animals who can’t control themselves. All you can hope to do is survive the calamities they will surely bring. Life becomes about “managing” our sin and the sin of others.  It leaves us not only cynical, but unwilling to even attempt to live in a holy or pure way.

This may all sound so very defeatist. Like what’s the point. Just let whatever happens happen. You can’t stop it anyway, so why try? But that’s not how I feel. You see, facing the reality of the power and scope of sin forces us to admit that what we need is something more powerful than sin. We are being bullied, and we need somebody to step in and show the bully the door.

At the heart of the Christian faith is the belief that, yes, sin and death are strong…but Jesus is stronger. That sin can put us in a hole of guilt and shame so deep…but grace is deeper. That the hate and distrust that devour our relationships is overwhelming…but can be overwhelmed by love.

I hope there is a third way to live. A place where we don’t seclude ourselves in forts, but also don’t give up hope. I want to live in the way of grace. Now, it is a hard place to live. Because on the one hand grace says, “Do your best” but also admits, “Bad stuff can happen.” A graceful life understands there is no insurance; that it isn’t all in our hands. Grace knows we can’t control anyone outside of ourselves (and often we don’t even do that well). The whole idea of grace begins with the admission that sin is powerful and bad things do happen to good people. But grace won’t let us give up. It won’t let us hide from the world, or live in fear, or became cynical and jaded and just give in. No, we trust in the One who points us toward how to live and gives us mercy when we don’t quite pull it off.  So there is always hope.

We all need to wake up to the power of sin.  To understand that no government program or parenting ideal or church done just right can fix the human heart.  Sin gets in.  And then, once we get our eyes wide open, once we see how truly powerful sin is, we may be ready to follow the One who overcomes sin and death.

Church

(The bulk of this was written after our worship service Sunday evening)

As minister at a small church, my times of worship too often consist of running around.  I am solving problems, coordinating people, helping visitors, taking kids to the bathroom.  I often go an entire service without actually making it to my seat.  So when I get to slide in a row next to my wife and kids, it is a wonderful, if fleeting, moment.

Sunday I had such a moment.  Only I got way more than I expected.

As I found my wife in the crowd (in such moments it helps to be married to a tall redhead) and moved onto her row, here is what I noticed.

On the row in front of us were four people.  A young married couple, holding hands.  Looked like two people in love.  And they are.  But I also know that he has truly struggled with addiction.  And she recently got out of prison.

Next to them, a man I have known for years.  He is the definition of the working poor.  Sometimes dirty, always smelling of cigarettes.  He sits on the same row where he used to sit with his wife.  She died a year ago this week.  Seeing him reminds me that I need to announce that tomorrow night we are having a dinner and fundraiser to try to buy a headstone for her grave.

Beside him, an older gentlemen.  The oldest man in our church.  He can no longer see well enough to even read the bible.  But that’s okay.  He has accomplished the task of memorizing most, if not all of it.  He bounces and claps as we sing, he doesn’t have much rhythm.  But he moves anyway, as if his loss of eyesight has made him believe that no one can see him.  Oh, that’s not the truth.  He doesn’t care because He loves Jesus so much.

And underneath their chairs is my three-year old son.  He is playing with the little bitty cars he is earning for going in the potty.

This odd juxtaposition is not odd.  I see something close to it every week.  I am used to it.  But I don’t think I should be.  There are so many places on earth where this mix would not happen.  Sadly, one of those places can sometimes be church.  As I look, I should be in awe.  For what I am seeing is what church actually is.

You see, church is not the songs we sing and the prayers we pray.  Although it is that.  And church isn’t just the people who are there.  It is that too.  But it is more.  Church is the place where the mystery of God’s work in the world is glimpsed for a moment.  Where a song of praise and a recovering addict and communion and a half-blind man and a sermon and a little boy with his play cars all somehow seem perfectly harmonious.

We too often want so much from church.  Great music that moves us.  A sermon that is funny and heart-wrenching.  People that genuinely seem interested in us.  Classes for our kids that are exciting.  It may be a lot to ask, but that is what we are looking for.

But I think maybe, just maybe, we don’t want enough from church.  Music and sermons and children’s classes don’t seem to matter when we glimpse God at work. Because in the moment we notice God’s hand we see beyond what we want, into what we truly need.  The gospel.  Made real.  Made alive.  Among us.

I am not sure this can be replicated.  That a mission statement or staff meeting can make it happen.  It is only the work of God.  The love of Christ.  The guiding of the Spirit.  But Sunday, at least for a few minutes, I got to be along for the ride.  And I knew it.

So all I could do was look.  And sing.  I looked at an addict, an ex-con, a widower, a blind man, and a little boy.  And I sang.

I look at my son and at them.  And I sing.  Bless the Lord, O my soul, O my soul.  And I look at him and at them.  And I sing.  Worship his holy name.  And the couple in front of me raises their hands as one.  Sing like never before, O my soul.  And the old man is half-turned around, clapping off-beat and smiling at me.  I will worship your holy name.

 

Why I Am Not Watching the World Cup (This Blog Post Is Not About Sports!)

I love sports.  I love to play and I love to watch.  I have my favorites (basketball, baseball) but I can get pulled into almost anything(Once spent an evening watching some contest where a guy cuts a field with a sickle, rolls up all the grass, and then they weigh his against others to see who won.  I was fascinated!).  My favorite show as a child was ABC’s Wide World of Sports.  I begged my parents to stay up until half-time of the Monday Night Football game just so I could listen to Howard Cosell run through the highlights package.  Let me say it again, I love sports.

But, I am not watching the World Cup. This has nothing to do with my feelings about soccer (or futbol). It is not that I am unpatriotic (I can root for almost anything in the Olympics). I am not watching the World Cup for on simple reason: I don’t have the channel the games are on.  It is probably surprising that someone who loves sports as much as I do would not have ESPN.  So let me explain.

When I first got married my wife and I had a cable subscription. Because that is what you do. I loved it. 100 percent because of sports. If the only channel that was on our cable package was ESPN I would have been satisfied.  We got married in March, so very quickly after returning from our honeymoon, the baseball season began.  So every night there was a Ranger’s game on.  Or if there wasn’t, I watched Baseball Tonight.  Or I watched both.

This was great.  At least I thought so.  My wife…not so much.  So we talked about it.  For me, it seemed pointless to have all this access to live sports and not watch.  In fact, it was a waste of money.  Like going to a buffet and only eating one plate worth of food.  You should fill up.  Same with sports.

Of course my love of sports clouded my ability to see the other side of the argument.  It wouldn’t be a waste of money, if we didn’t have cable at all.  Whoa.

After much talking and thinking, I decided that the best economic maneuver, and the best thing for my marriage, was to distance myself from nightly sports by getting rid of cable.

That was seventeen years ago this summer.  We haven’t had cable (or satellite) since.  I have rarely made a better decision.

Now, this post isn’t about me bashing those with cable, or all the stuff about people watching too much television.  Nor is this about the economics (although by my estimate this move has saved us over ten thousand dollars).  It is not about how media corrupts the mind. Or how Americans care too much about sports.

It is simply this: I gave up ESPN and I don’t miss it. Because what I got instead is so much better.

Now, I still love sports. On several occasions I have gone to a friend’s or relative’s house to “borrow” a channel so I could watch a particularly desirous sporting event. Hey, I go to Buffalo Wild Wings on the first day of the NCAA basketball tournament to watch 8 games in 4 hours.

But not having access to all these sports channels has kept me from constantly watching whatever is on. Instead, well, after seventeen years there is no telling what all I have done with all that time.

But more of that non-sports-watching time has been spent on one person than any other thing. Melody. My wife. We have spent hours solving all the world’s problems and coming up with some amazing and ridiculous inventions. We have planned for the arrival of seven children. We have shared our broken places and loved each other toward healing. She has become my best friend, my confidant, my true companion.

Now, I am not saying that none of this would have happened if we still had cable. But…

Over the years I have worked with a lot of married and almost married couples. All of them want their relationships to work, to grow, to thrive. They are all in love. If you asked them, they would all say they are willing to do anything for each other. But the question I like to ask is “what would you be willing to not do?” “What are you willing to give up?”

Life is about making choices. By choosing to spend time doing one thing, it means that time cannot be spent doing something else. It seems obvious. But so often we are fooled into believing that we can do anything and everything. We can work long hours, have lots of friends, enjoy expensive hobbies and have a close-knit family and amazing marriage. But the truth is that we can’t have it all. And the choices we make, even small ones, shape and mold us in ways we cannot possibly imagine in the moment.

Fairly often someone will ask myself or my wife, “How do you do it?  How do you get it all done with seven kids?  How do you have time for everything?”  The honest answer is: we don’t.  We can’t do everything.  Not everything we want.  Sometimes not everything we need.  No one can.  So choose wisely.

Turning the Other Cheek (and giving it a good whooping)

I recently overheard a conversation between several moms. They were talking about children as a group of mom’s is wont to do. As they discussed some of the difficulties of parenting, they began to share moments of misbehavior that led to them spanking a child. As they continued sharing anecdotes, I couldn’t help but notice the way they spoke about these incidents. They talked of “dragging” a child outside so they could “wear them out.” You could feel the pitch of the conversation increase as they each shared worse and worse behaviors by their children that led to more and more severe punishments. As an observer, I noticed that these stories were shared in what seemed like an effort to gain approval. Each story of a spanking being proof of the steadfastness of the parent. There was no disapproval for spanking, but rather sharing about your spanking incidents made you part of the group. And all of these women are Christian.

Now, before I go on I must be open. I have never spanked a child. It is a decision my wife and I made before our first child was born. I was spanked as a child, although it was extremely rare (I was such a good kid!) And I am not writing this post to condemn spanking or parents who spank. Rather, I am interested in how we talk about spanking.

It seems to me that often when I hear parents discuss spanking their children, it is shared as proof of good parenting. “What choice did I have, I can’t let my child be disobedient or misbehave.” Those hearing the tale are expected to nod in understanding. A spanking story is told so that others will know both how difficult it is to parent, and how faithfully the parent sticks to the duty. Sometimes the stories even take on an us versus them mentality. The child is portrayed as the enemy who must be subdued into appropriate behavior.

Something about this is disturbing. If we reach a point where striking our child is the only means of stopping blatant disobedience, it should fill us with great sadness. Sadness that our child has reached that state, sadness that we lack the wisdom to find other ways to change the behavior, and sadness that the only thing that will change that behavior is physical pain. As followers of the One who asks us to love our enemies and turn the other cheek, being put in a position where we must hit anyone should fill us with dread and grief. Especially if that anyone is our child. And yet, that is not how I typically hear people talk about this subject.

My uncle was a State Trooper. I remember him talking about how horrible it felt to have to draw your gun, much less fire it. How would we feel as a society if peace officers routinely talked about “blowing away” a suspect or “beating down” a belligerent person? We would be disgusted, and rightly so. Shouldn’t our conversations about spanking our own children be at least as reverent as an officer describing having to draw their weapon.

In many ways this not only about how we talk about spanking, but how we talk about any form of violence. As Christians, we often pray for peace in our country and our world. We bemoan violent crime and governments cracking down on their own citizens. Yet, I often hear Christians react with something approaching glee when discussing people they consider evil “getting what they deserve.” When we talk about violence we are often two-faced. We hate violence, except when used by the right people, at the right time(all of which we determine). Nothing makes me cringe more than hearing a parent talk about their child (I gave him what he deserved) in the same manner we talk about Saddam Hussein.

So, I will not tell you to quit spanking your child (I think you should, but we can save that for another time). But I will ask this: the next time you are sharing with others about having to physically punish your child, do so with reverence. Do so reluctantly. Do so with a tear in your eye. Do so while thinking about the prince of peace who wanted the little ones to come to Him.