I Can Laugh

Worship and laughter

“All joking aside, now it’s time to worship.” Those were the words of a lay leader after sharing the announcements (and a few funny comments) during the Sunday morning service. I’d been thinking about doing a post on laughter, so her statement caught my attention.

I understood what she meant. The announcement time, which really couldn’t be described as worship, was over. Now we needed to focus on God with reverence and humility. But I wondered, can’t we worship and laugh at the same time? Are we sometimes expressing our worship of God in our laughter?

Several years ago John, a young relative, was going through a tough time. I naturally felt his stress and sorrow and frustration. One day, he received some much-needed financial help in the form of a check. He told me that he was taking it to the bank to cash it, but he was a little nervous about walking out of the building with all that money in his pocket.

So he took a few hefty buddies along with him. He asked them to wait in his car while he went inside. When he came out of the bank, if anyone seemed to be following him, his passengers were to jump out and look mean.

He entered the bank. There, three people ahead of him in line, was a friend in upper management in the organization that John worked for. (What are the odds of that happening???) The manager offered to wait for John to complete his transaction so they could walk out to the parking lot together and have a brief chat.

They left side by side. Approached John’s sedan.

Suddenly three car doors flew open and a group of athletic young men burst out, glaring at the manager menacingly. He looked startled, then alarmed, muttered a quick goodbye, spun around, and hurried off. They all got back inside and broke into hysterics. John immediately called me and told me what had happened.

My laughter in response to the situation ministered to me in a special way. As I blinked back a few tears, I was praising God for the stress relief. Most of that relief came through the unexpected check, but the humor of the situation also helped. I was worshiping Him in that moment. Could my laughter itself be considered a part of that worship?

The benefits of laughter

Laughter is refreshing. It’s good for us. For many decades, Reader’s Digest has included a regular feature titled, “Laughter: The Best Medicine.”

According to a Mayo Clinic article in their section on stress management, “Laughter helps you take in oxygen-rich air, which stimulates your heart, lungs and muscles. Laughter also increases feel-good chemicals called endorphins that your brain releases.” It “fires up and then cools down your stress response,” helping you to relax.

It may also provide long-term benefits for the immune system, “make it easier to cope with tough situations,” and help you “connect with other people.” Ella Wheeler Wilcox wrote in her poem, “Solitude” (1883), “Laugh, and the world laughs with you; Weep, and you weep alone.”

Being serious

Where do I hear the most laughter today? Among Christians.

About twenty years ago, I was invited by a group of friends to see the movie, The Bucket List. I was told it was a comedy. I wasn’t thrilled with the premise, but I knew I could use a good laugh.

There weren’t many of those. The two main characters, who were both terminally ill, spent far more time facing serious issues and engaging in personal conflicts than joking around. From what I’ve seen, that’s been the trend in modern movies: What used to be labelled as drama, with a few funny moments thrown in, is now considered comedy. Not in my book.

Our current culture is far more serious than it was when I was younger. Everything is a crisis. Perpetual outrage is encouraged and inflamed by influencers. Anger is considered the best indication of how much someone cares. Even where there’s humor today, how much of it is hateful—biting, cutting, intended to hurt?

We’re not made to carry that kind of weight around. Anger and hatred destroy. Laughter revives. Filmmakers recognize this when they intentionally include comic relief in even the most serious movies. In real life, if that relief doesn’t come from lightening up (including laughing) people will turn to the excessive use of sex, drugs, and alcohol to find it. A perfect setup for the increase in deaths from despair—drug abuse, alcoholism, and suicide—that we’re seeing today.

Why do Christians (in my experience) laugh noticeably more than the culture as a whole? Shouldn’t we be taking life as seriously as everybody else does?

We face much higher stakes—those with eternal consequences. The Bible never mentions Jesus laughing. When I did a word search for laugh on Bible Gateway, there were negative uses in the list of verses, as well as positive ones. 

Why we can laugh

We can laugh because the Lord draws us into more intimate human relationships than we can have without Him. We can let our guard down among the body of Christ as we laugh. Genuine laughter occurs most often with people who we know will accept us no matter what.

There have been times in our history when Church leaders emphasized solemnity and frowned on lightheartedness. That’s carried over somewhat into my own experience.

Many years ago, I was at a funeral for a woman who’d suffered from a crippling chronic medical condition for a long time. She was a believer. Her passing was, in many ways, a relief. In those days, a “funeral” was a recognition of the pain and grief that accompanies death, not a “celebration of life.” It was mostly serious.

At the reception, I hung around with some friends that I hadn’t seen for a while. We got to talking and joking. Knowing them, and the situation, as well as I did, I didn’t consider it inappropriate. But other people started frowning at us, so we toned it down a bit.

I still remember the thrill and the sense of “of course!” the first time I heard someone say that God has a sense of humor. Humor is a good thing. All good things come from above (James 1:17). Of course He has a sense of humor! The Bible doesn’t come right out and say that, but it can be seen in many passages. It might just be a natural expression of His and our joy.

Maybe the more we hold the dominant American viewpoint that this world is all there is and that we can control it to a large extent, the more seriously we take it all. Then when our efforts to control the world fail (as they always do), the anger and the seriousness increase.

But we as Christians can escape this trap. We do have responsibilities to the world. God expects us to weep with those who weep, to relieve suffering, to stand up for the afflicted and oppressed, to be good stewards of the environment, to share the gospel.

But we know that the ultimate outcome is in His hands. We know that we don’t have as much control over events as we think we do. And we know that there’s more to life than this physical world alone.

My role is to follow the Holy Spirit’s leading and guidance, to serve in the areas where God wants me to be. I can’t change the entire world, but I can make a small difference by being obedient to His calling and His laws. He’s the one who will make all things work together for good, not me.

There are times when I can’t see any good coming from a particular situation. But I know, from experience and from His Word, that I can trust Him with it. The weight of the world isn’t mine to bear.

And so I can laugh.

 

 

 

Division and Unity

The lesson

I don’t remember exactly when it started. Sometime between fifteen and twenty years ago, I think. I’m still struggling with it, though.

The Holy Spirit has been grabbing my attention, pulling me along, hitting me over the head with it. Convicting me. Also making it possible for me to respond the way God wants me to, even though it feels like my progress has been painfully slow.

And now, today, I’m so glad He began working on me way back then. Because that lesson is one I need to put into practice now more than ever.

What is it? “Love one another” (John 13:34).

It sounds so simple. And yet Jesus waited until His last day on earth to give His disciples this “new command.” Maybe they couldn’t really do it until they’d spent three years in close fellowship with Him. Or maybe they wouldn’t be able to do it until after they’d received the Holy Spirit.

I’m a critical thinker, which can be a good thing. It makes it easier for me to analyze a statement and get to the root of what’s true or false about it. I’m less likely to be taken in by propaganda and fake news.

But there’s a downside. I’m too critical of other people, including other Christians.

I’ve always found it challenging to appreciate and love certain believers. Especially the difficult or immature ones. The ones who’ve been saved for forty years or more and yet have grown so little.

God began convicting me of my need to love even them. He began teaching me and helping me to do it better.

The challenge

Ever since Trump’s rise to power in 2016, I’ve had a hard time coming to terms with the reality that some of the friends I’ve known and loved for decades are on the opposite side of the fence from me. I have a hard time understanding how they can believe the things they do about him.

My natural response would be to pull away from them. Or fight and argue, with the mental attitude that they have to see things my way or they’re bad people. In other words, follow the world’s strategies for dealing with conflict.

Several years ago, I was listening to a program on NPR (National Public Radio) shortly before Thanksgiving. A caller was expressing her dread of sitting down to the holiday meal with her extended family, since different members identified with different parts of the political spectrum. But what could be more interesting or more important to talk about than politics?

She knew from past experience that those who disagreed with her would never be willing to accept the truth when she presented it, and of course she’d never stoop so low as to agree with their faulty view of the world. The entire time was likely to be spent arguing, with increasing hostility and without any possibility of resolving anything.

The host of the show sympathized with the caller. She couldn’t imagine any other way to handle the situation.

God has been working in me for many years now to love others better, which includes changing my natural response to conflict. The response illustrated by the NPR segment.

I’m not supposed to regard a fellow believer from a worldly point of view anymore, but as a new creation (2 Corinthians 5:16-17).

God's ways are not the world’s ways (Isaiah 55:8). He “is kind to the ungrateful and wicked” (Luke 6:35)!

One time, as I arrived at a relative’s wedding, I immediately (and unexpectedly) ran into several guests who were gay or trans. Instant discomfort. What should I say? What should I do? The Holy Spirit soon reminded me that His fruit is kindness and gentleness (Galatians 5:22-23).

God's ways are not our ways and His thoughts are not our thoughts. But our relationship with Him includes growing in our knowledge of His ways and His thoughts. And in our ability to imitate Him.

So how am I supposed to deal with those believers who take a stand on Trump that’s completely opposed to mine? It wouldn’t hurt so much, it wouldn’t be so tough if I wasn’t firmly convinced by God’s Word and by the Holy Spirit within me that my understanding is the one most in line with His character. Unfortunately, believers on the other side are just as convinced of how right they are.

Preventing division 

The Lord has been teaching me for years now that I need to respond to all my brothers and sisters in Christ with love and grace. By doing so, I can contribute to greater unity among His people. Shortly after giving them the command to love one another, Jesus prayed for the oneness of His followers. How dare I splinter our unity for something as trivial as the politics of the day?

Every four years, I hear the declaration that this is the most important election in decades, maybe ever. The fate of the world hangs in the balance.

But how does one American election look in the light of eternity? It’s a very tiny drop in an infinite ocean.

What’s vastly more important in God’s eyes is Jesus’ new command, “Love one another.” Love my brothers and sisters in Christ in spite of their flaws. Love them even if they seem to be following the wrong path. Love will have a greater impact for eternity than any laws we can pass (especially when they can be changed or overturned so easily).

Does this mean that I never correct an error in other believers’ thinking? No. But that’s not where He usually leads.

It means I need to be “quick to listen, slow to speak and slow to become angry” (James 1:19). Quick to listen to the other person and to the prompting of the Holy Spirit. Slow to correct my opponent.

Several years ago, a Christian who I’d always found annoying was complaining to me about another believer. She’d asked the woman to do something for her that could benefit both of them. The other believer said no.

My initial internal response: Here we go again. Once again, instead of acting like a mature woman in Christ, this lady is griping and gossiping about a good friend of mine. I just wanted to put her in her place as firmly as possible.

But God was working on me. I knew that wouldn’t be right. Or loving. Or effective. I’d be betraying my own standard of “acting like a mature woman in Christ.”

I knew I couldn’t appear to agree with her either, though. She was wrong and I couldn’t affirm, even in subtle unintended ways, what she was saying and doing. I sent up a quick, desperate prayer for help. (I’ve never been good at handling sudden conflict. I need time to find the words to say.)

The Holy Spirit responded by bringing to mind an experience that I’d had recently. I was able to share it with her, identifying with her in her disappointment and frustration, but suggesting that maybe God had something better in store for her (as He did in my case) when our mutual friend turned down her request.

When it comes to Trump, during the last ten years I’ve stumbled over how to deal with the issue, but I’ve made some progress. I started out being too outspoken, too ready to fight. Most of the time now I simply don’t bring up the subject with other believers, especially if I don’t know them very well.

If someone else mentions Trump, I try to focus first on listening, as James recommends. I’m thrilled if we agree. In my natural human weakness, I need their support and encouragement and wisdom.

If we disagree, I remain silent to begin with. But if they seem to be mistaking my silence for approval, I try to be matter-of-fact in briefly stating my position. If I share more openly, it usually drives a wedge between us.

We can be friends. We can talk, and even debate, about other topics. But in this area, it’s better to agree to disagree. I’m thankful that this seems to be the unspoken policy in my church. And I’m so thankful that the Lord has been leading me for many years to the point where I can respond in a more godly way than I naturally would.

The hardest part now is handling my internal turmoil regarding the conflict and the negative feelings it generates toward my opponent. But I’m finding that the more I treat people as if I love them, the more I’m able to genuinely love them.

I never intend to state in this blog which side of the Trump issue I stand on. I won’t post any comments supporting one view or the other. It would only distract from a more important message. The message of love and unity triumphing over the division we see all around us.

 

 

 

Freedom to Move On

The loss

The text comes in as I’m getting up in the morning. Mom has breathed her last breath. She’s gone.

(I’m okay with getting the message by group text. There are many family members to notify. We knew it was coming any minute. It’s a little early in the day for a phone call, especially for those in the times zones west of me.)

No tears fall. I’ve cried them all already. The day she was diagnosed with “dementia, most likely Alzheimer’s.” As I watched her brain wasting away and her personality disintegrating. Each time she took another drastic step downward. Sitting in my rental car after saying goodbye at her bedside for the last time, before returning home a week ago.

I’ve been grieving for her for a while. 

The relief

At this point, the sense of relief is greater than the sense of loss. I’ve never been in this position before. Not sure what to expect.

The last several years have been busy and stressful for me and my siblings. Bad news about Mom’s falls and emergency room visits. Decisions to be made regarding her living situation and medical needs. Increasing difficulty in her ability to communicate. More frequent trips to see her. More frequent phone calls.

But the worst stress, the greatest trauma, was knowing that one I loved was hurting so much. Witnessing her struggles with pain and physical limitations and cognitive issues and depression and fears and obsessive thinking. She was too aware of her own losses. Yet hesitant, like many in her generation, about taking any medication that would make her feel better emotionally. Part of me just wanted her to move on to a better life, to be freed from all her troubles.

That phase has passed now. Mom is at peace. We’ll be making all those decisions that have to be made after someone dies, but that won’t be nearly as stressful as helplessly watching the continuing decline of a loved one in her nineties.

I’m ready to move on, too. To catch up on all the things I haven’t gotten done because of the extra time I’ve spent helping meet Mom’s needs. Because of the emotional energy being drained by seeing her suffering.

I don’t resent losing that time and energy. I’d do it all again in a heartbeat. I’d do it for ten more years if she had that long.

But there’s a welcome sense of freedom from the responsibility and stress. Now I can move on.

The grief

Until my body reminds me that I’m mourning. I’ve experienced a significant loss. Yes, there’s great relief. But there’s also the sorrow of missing her, which will come out one way or another.

Right now it comes out, not in intense emotions, but in physical and mental fatigue. A song pops into my head. “Slow Down,” by Chuck Girard (1974). It’s an invitation to slow down, be still, and wait on the Spirit of the Lord. (Thank You, Father, for bringing this song to mind just when I need it. I haven’t thought about it for many years.)

This is a biblical concept that our busy American culture doesn’t often consider. The Israelites are told to be still in Exodus 14:14, when they’re trapped between Pharaoh’s army and the Red Sea. In Nehemiah 8:11, the Levites calm the people as they’re grieving over their sins, encouraging them to be still as they respond to the reading of the Book of the Law of Moses. While prophesying about the coming Messiah, Zechariah 2:13 calls all mankind to be still before the Lord.

Psalm 37:7 combines the ideas of being still and waiting on the Lord. Waiting on the Lord is encouraged in many of the other Psalms and in the prophets.

Every day I feel like I get more behind on all the things I want or need to do. But there it is, right there in the Bible—slow down, be still, wait. I need to hear this at this time in my life when I’m so eager to move ahead. At this time when my body is screaming at me to slow down.

The challenge

But I don’t want to slow down! I want to plunge forward, to check more and more items off of my to-do list.

Why?

As I’ve said, it’s partly because I want to catch up on the things that I’ve put on a back burner while Mom’s been wasting away. That’s the most obvious reason. And it seems fully justified.

But I think it goes deeper than that. If I slow down I’ll feel the grief. I’ve been grieving for so long, I just want it to be over with. I don’t want to deal with it anymore. I’d rather be fixing things.

I’m a problem solver. I can see all kinds of problems with my house. The dust bunnies under the bed and the grunge on the windows and the minor upgrades and repairs that I’ve been postponing. I see problems with weeds and overgrown plants in my yard. Problems with my mismatched and aging wardrobe.

Now that I have more time, I can fix all those things. Fixing things feels better than being still.

But I need to be still so that I can move ahead. Just like physical healing, emotional healing won’t happen if I’m too busy and active.

Slow down now. Have the strength to do more later. I’ve faced this lesson so many times (including here and here and here), but it’s still hard to rein in my impulse to push on. I guess I’m a slow learner.

The biggest reason for slowing down, though, comes at the end of the song. “Know that He is God.” An echo of Psalm 46:10.

My desire to solve problems, do things, be done with the grieving, to move on, is partly my desire to be my own god. To take charge of the situation. To do the things I want to do, in my way and in my timing. To see my will being done.

When I slow down, I have to listen, contemplate, and consider, not just act. Listen to what the Bible says. Listen to wise pastors and teachers. Listen to the Holy Spirit within me. Contemplate His will, His direction, as it’s revealed in His Word, through other Christians, and in my own heart. Consider the fact that many of my to-do’s are trivial in God’s eyes.

I need to slow down so that I’ll stop trying to be God.

 

 

 

A Note on Commenting

I’m puzzled. Are my readers trying to post comments, but for some reason they’re not getting through? When I check my stats each week, I see several clicks on my comment policy page, but I haven’t received any comments in a long time.

I also know that only a very small fraction of readers submit comments. A blog can have hundreds of thousands of subscribers and only receive a few dozen comments on an individual post. So there might not be any problem at all.

If you’ve tried, unsuccessfully, to submit a comment at any time, please email me here: anomaly2134@gmail.com, so I can document the extent of the problem.

I decided to try (once again) to track down anything that might be preventing comments from getting to my email box. The only suggestion I found that I could follow through on was to use a popup window for comments. I changed my setting to do that.

If you try commenting and it doesn’t work, please email me at anomaly2134@gmail.com. I will be happy to post your comment from there.

If you have experience with this problem on blogger.com, please let me know of any solutions that you’ve found helpful.

Please pray for wisdom for me in approaching this potential problem.

Thank you for reading my posts, for your patience, for your prayers, and for any other help you can give me.

Ann

Thinking of Others

Thinking evil

“In your hearts do not think evil of each other” (Zechariah 7:10).

But it’s so easy to do that!

There was this friend (Frank) of a friend of mine. My friend, who’d known Frank for several years, approached me at one time to ask if Frank could stay in my guest room temporarily.

In his late thirties, Frank was the victim of an unjust lawsuit. Most of his income went to his lawyer. But he was a hard worker and a good guy. He could no longer afford to rent an apartment and was planning on living in his car until things turned around again. I said okay.

It wasn’t just the lawsuit, though. It was the middle of the COVID pandemic. Frank’s income had dropped even lower because he couldn’t work as many hours as he had in the past.

And then one day Frank came home in a much nicer car. I was stunned. Angry. Hurt. Had the lawsuit been settled in his favor? Was he keeping that from me in order to take advantage of my hospitality? Was he simply using me?

I didn’t know how to approach the subject with him. He worked so many hours, I didn’t see him often. Even though he was living in my house, we hardly knew each other. Should I say something to him? Should I ask my friend what was going on?

I prayed, and did nothing. I didn’t want to make a false accusation.

And I was glad that I’d waited. Later, I overheard him talking on his phone in his room. He was explaining to an advisor that he’d accidentally missed a few payments on his car. It was supposed to be on autopay, but something went wrong. It had been towed away to be repossessed. He was borrowing one from a friend just to get to and from work.

He was polite and attentive during the phone call. No anger. No whining. He repeated the steps he needed to take to get it back. He was taking responsibility. Doing the right thing. Demonstrating that my friend’s evaluation of him was accurate.

Soon his car was in my driveway again. I never said a word.

I thought I was pretty good at not thinking evil of others, as Zechariah advises. A year or two ago a family member who’s not a Christian commented on my tendency to think the best of others, which he obviously didn’t agree with. I hope I was able to draw him a little nearer to God and to salvation in my response.

But there I was, assuming the worst about Frank. And it was all a lie.

The full verse in Zechariah says, “Do not oppress the widow or the fatherless, the alien or the poor. In your hearts do not think evil of each other.” I’ve never tied those two ideas together before. But now I realize that thinking evil of Frank was a form of oppressing the poor.

How often do we do that? Most of us don’t actively oppress the widow or fatherless or alien or poor. But what about our hearts?

Do we think evil in our hearts of those who are struggling? Do we judge them for the bad decisions that they’ve made? For their appearance? For their dependence on government assistance? For their inability or unwillingness to hold down a job?

We might vigorously deny that we oppress them in any way, but Zechariah and Jesus both make it clear that the thoughts of our hearts are just as important as the words that come out of our mouths or the actions that we take.

Thinking the best of others

In the case of Frank, I was clearly wrong. Should I always try to think the best of others, though? Is that naivety? Am I setting myself up to be used and hurt?

Years ago I knew a couple who took in a man who had shown up at their church asking for a place to stay. He said he was a Christian who was in town to look for a job. They invited him into their home. All seemed to go well. He lived with them for a couple of weeks and then left.

A few days later, the police knocked on their door, asking about their recent guest. He’d been arrested for armed robbery. He was later convicted, having used a knife from my friends’ kitchen in attacking his victim. He’d done the same thing in other cities.

God protected my friends while they were unknowingly harboring a dangerous criminal.

But it doesn’t always work that way. Other Christians have been killed by those they trustingly tried to help. “Everywhere the kindest people go, the most calculating ones follow” (from WORLD magazine Opinions). How do I reconcile this with the verse from Zechariah?

In Matthew 10:16, Jesus says, “I am sending you out like sheep among wolves. Therefore be as shrewd as snakes and as innocent as doves.” I’ve always been drawn to the second half of that verse.

In your innocence, think the best of others. But be prepared. There are wolves out there. In your shrewdness, keep your eyes open. Expect some people to try to take advantage of you. Watch for signs that they can’t be trusted. But don’t jump to the conclusion that everyone you see is a wolf, intent on devouring you.

First Corinthians 13:7 says that love always trusts, always hopes. If we love someone, we’ll trust them and hope for the best for them. And we’re supposed to love everyone. But if we do that, won’t we just get hurt?

Yes, we’ll get hurt. Guaranteed. God doesn’t put us in this world and save us so that we can be safe. As Jesus continues teaching His disciples in Matthew 10, He tells them they’ll be flogged, arrested, betrayed, and hated. Hurt.

Yet love always trusts and always hopes. Why and how can we do that?

We can do it because the Lord loved us when we were untrustworthy and hopeless. We can do it because the Holy Spirit within us enables us.

We can do it because it works. I’m not going to cite any specific studies here, but over many years, I’ve learned from many sources that the way we treat others has the power to change them.

If I treat someone as if I trust her, she’ll become more trustworthy. If I treat someone with respect, she’ll become more respectable. If I treat a student as if she could learn the material, she’ll be more likely to learn it. If I believe the best about someone, and treat her in ways that reflect that belief, I’ll be a factor in bringing out the best in her.

(This is a general principle. In the case of someone like the armed robber, his heart had become so hard, it probably didn’t matter how anyone else treated him. But most of the people we know haven’t yet reached that stage. We can still have a positive impact.)

We all want other people to change. They’re never quite good enough for us. No matter how much we love someone, there’s always something about him that irritates us.

I addressed this issue many years ago in a support group that I was leading. And I gave them the key to changing others. There’s a catch, though. She won’t necessarily change in the ways you think she should. But it will bring out the best in her.

The best way to change another person is to love him just the way he is.

God loves us just the way we are. He doesn’t tell us we have to change before He’ll love us. He doesn’t stop loving us when we turn against Him.

That love has the power to change us for the better. If we follow His example, we can have an impact for good on the people around us.

And when we treat them as if we trust them and have high hopes for them, we’ll change, too. We’ll be less likely to think evil of each other in our hearts.

 

 

 

A Perfect Father

Our attitude

Parents might just be the most difficult people to forgive.

We can usually forgive children when they mess up. That’s what children do.

Most of us forgive the simple, everyday offenses that others commit against us. We couldn’t have meaningful relationships if we didn’t.

Some go even further and forgive the bigger hurts inflicted by coworkers, friends, siblings, and spouses.

But parents? Parents can be so hard to forgive.

How many adult children are still walking around with unhealed resentment toward their moms and dads long after the damage has been done? Long after they’ve reached an age where they should be mature enough to work through their pain and let it go.

Growing up

We have an intense longing for perfect parents. Part of this seems to be inborn, but we also quickly learn to expect our parents to always understand us and always meet all of our needs.

Right from the start they feed us when we’re hungry, comfort us when we’re upset, and change our diapers when they’re messy. The natural conclusion: These people take such good care of me, they must be perfect.

As time goes by, we become disillusioned. We’re understandably hurt and disappointed when they fail us. Which they always do.

And yet they expect us to obey them, as most of us do most of the time prior to adolescence. A perfect foundation for internal conflict. Which we later blame on them.

The Ten Commandments don’t tell moms and dads to raise their children well, but they do say to honor our parents. Parents have a natural tendency to want to raise their children well. We all have a natural tendency to remember their failures.

The blame game

In the twentieth century, “blame the parents for everything” psychology became common and powerful. I remember reading an article in the 1970s. (I’m pretty sure it was in Reader’s Digest.) It concerned a condition that hadn’t been talked about much up until then: autism. The behaviors associated with the condition had been blamed on poor parenting. But new research showed that they actually had a biological basis.

Around the same time, in my first job working with special needs children, I was told that kids with Down syndrome are naturally sweet and easy-going and loving. Therefore, if they misbehave consistently, it’s because their parents have been lax in their discipline.

Just recently, though, I was informed that the condition itself is associated with a tendency toward stubbornness. They do have a sweet, loving temperament that responds well to kindness. But they often present real behavioral challenges that can’t be due to their environment alone.

I look back in horror to a time when parents (especially moms) were blamed way beyond what they deserved for their children’s troubles. How did they live with the guilt being heaped on them?

Psychologists seem to have backed away from the insistence that every single issue stems from poor parenting, but it’s still easy to blame our own moms and dads for our troubles.

Freya India, a young author in the United Kingdom, describes a new twist on the blame game. Because most of them are not mental health care professionals, parents are now looked down on as incapable of being “helpful” to their children. Members of Gen Z (those born from about 1997 to 2012) are being encouraged to back away from their parents, who are obviously incompetent and usually harmful, and let therapists take on the roles—and the emotional connection—that used to belong to Mom and Dad. 

Instead of being counseled to understand their parents, take responsibility for building better relationships with them, and forgive them for the mistakes they’re bound to make by simply being human, these young people are now advised to transfer the relationship to their therapists.

Forgiving

I hope I’ve forgiven my parents for their very real sins against me and my siblings. (Just to be clear—my childhood was mostly good, mostly happy. Overall, I think my parents did a good job. They definitely had their faults, though.)

As a Christian, I have all the tools I need to forgive my parents.

(I’m not going to discuss here why we should forgive, but a good book that deals in-depth with cancel culture’s blindness to the precious value of forgiveness is Timothy Keller’s Forgive: Why Should I and How Can I?. The following thoughts aren’t taken directly from that book, which I read after I’d written the original draft of this article, but of course some of them will overlap, since we’re both writing from a Christian perspective.) 

I can forgive those who harm me because God forgave me. The enormity of my sins against Him far outweighs any debt anyone could ever owe me.

Every time I flaunt His commands, I’m replacing the sublime God with a measly little idol, blaspheming the name of the loving creator of the universe, defiling His image before the watching world, and giving the devil a foothold in my heart and mind. If a holy God can forgive me for all that, surely I can forgive those who sin against me.

I can see my parents as God sees them—as my fellow fallen human beings. They’re not any more perfect than I am. They need grace as much as I do. Of course they made mistakes. We all do.

When I was a support group leader at my church many years ago, I was taught that one way to forgive Mom or Dad is to grieve that which we long for but never had and never will have. We needed something from them that we didn’t receive.* They weren’t perfect.

I like that idea. It confirms that real harm has been done, but it leads us to recognize our own mistake in expecting perfection from imperfect people. And it provides a process for working through the issue. We can never heal from any emotional pain as long as we maintain a victim mentality instead of doing whatever we’re capable of doing to repair the damage to our souls.

As a Christian, I have a deeper appreciation for the value of suffering. God can use it to draw us closer to Him and to bless others, if we turn to Him in our need and grow in His likeness as we heal.

I heard a story many years ago from a young woman. (I think it was on a Christian radio station.) She had been raised by “perfect” parents. In her perception, they did everything right.

Then she left home, and she was totally lost. She had no idea how to cope with a world that didn’t love her unconditionally and meet her every need, as her parents had.

Children become better people when their parents do their job well. Paradoxically, though, they also become better people when their moms and dads mess up. We learn and grow because we’re forced to deal with parents who do the wrong thing sometimes. (Of course, this doesn’t excuse any form of intentional mistreatment.)

God as our Father

And then God goes and reveals Himself to us as our Heavenly Father. How does that affect our relationship with Him?

For those who’ve been abused or abandoned by their dads, thinking of God as a Father can lead to rebellion against Him and make it incredibly difficult to trust Him.

All of our dads disappointed us in one way or another. It can be easy to carry over that disappointment and lack of trust to a Father God, often without realizing what we’re doing.

At times, we might blame Him for hurting us. We can struggle with finding a way to forgive Him.

Some people—even Christians—will need months or years to work through the harm done by their earthly fathers. As a body of believers, we need to recognize that and do what we can to contribute to their healing.

At the same time, we all long to have a perfect father. To know his unconditional love. To be able to return to him when we’ve rebelled, knowing that he’ll welcome us back again. To know that he understands our sorrow and anger and fears and failures. And still loves us.

We all have that powerful desire. Only God can fulfill it.


*The handout from that group credits “Robert Bly, in the video ‘A Gathering of Men,’” for this insight.