Monday, September 20, 2004
All the Answers
This year’s Love Won Out conference took place at North Heights Lutheran Church, a huge church in a St. Paul suburb. Love Won Out is the “ex-gay” educational traveling show of Focus on the Family. I could explain why I went, but that would derail this story entirely. During a mid-morning sugar low, I sidled past the exhibitors’ booth that had the largest bowl of candy, feigning interest in Christian psychiatric services. I moved on, miniature Hershey’s bar in hand, and heard someone calling my name.
“Shit,” I thought, “I’ve been entrapped by the shrink who set out this candy…But how would he know my name?”
Steve (not his real name) was calling “Jenell” (my real name). Steve and I were acquaintances during college, and haven’t seen each other for about eleven years. I haven’t thought of him even once since the last time I saw him. He’s a counselor now, guiding addicts and homosexuals through a spiritually-based recovery program. (I could explain why homosexuals and addicts are in that sentence together, but again, that would derail the story). Steve has a Bob Jones University haircut and a Liberty University master’s degree. He also has a Bethel University bachelor’s degree, but I’d prefer not to emphasize that right now.
He asked the opening questions that single women at Solomon’s Porch hate most, “So, are you married? Any kids?”
I said, “Yes, I’m married and I have three children, but the children are all dead.” After his face recovered from its pained expression, he said he remembered me as having really taken urban poverty to heart during college. I said I had lived in inner cities for thirteen years, but moved to a suburb three months ago. I laughed and said, “One neighbor family screams at each other and some of them use pot, so a little bit of ghetto is still nearby.”
My humor fell hard and flat, like jumping off a trampoline onto the ground. He said, “That can’t be an accident. God placed you next to them for a reason.”
I said, “It seems to me that it could be an accident.”
He said, “There are no accidents.”
I said, “Since my babies died, it’s hard for me to confidently identify God’s hand at work in the world.”
“There are no accidents,” he repeated.
I shrugged. I said I’d come back later in the afternoon to ask him some questions about addiction and healing, and to hear about his counseling practice.
I did return to his exhibitor’s booth, and he told some good stories about his practice, and gave me useful advice for my informal counseling with students struggling with sexual matters.
Then he said, “I’ve been thinking about what you said about accidents earlier today. I’m worried about you, Jenell. I’m concerned that you’re angry with God or that you feel alienated from Him. Is it possible for you to see your children’s deaths as an act of love?”
I said, “God killed them as an act of love?”
“Yes.”
“No. I realize I could be wrong about it, but it’s not possible for me to ever see it that way.”
“God is always loving, even if you don’t see it at the time.”
“Steve, what if I injected my husband with a deadly infection, bashed part of his head in, and told him it was loving?”
“That’s not what God did to your babies!”
“Actually, that is what happened to my babies. And if it was God who reached inside my body to infect them and kill them all, well, I will just never perceive those actions as loving. Because they’re not.”
Then we shared a moment of silence. I suspected he had gone back to the first question about my being angry with God, or that he was concerned because I had said earlier that I was “pissed off” about something. My eyes darted around the hallways and I remembered the words of Jesus in Mark 1:38, “Let us go somewhere else.”
Steve said, “Well, I see that you need to go, but can I ask you one more question?”
“OK.”
“Who are you planning to vote for this November?”
I said, “Nader,” and that said it all. Steve and I have different keys for life’s test bank. His God blessed him with three children and put one of His followers in the White House. My God stood by while my three sons died, and stands by while, like my reproductive efforts, my favorite candidate fails miserably again and again.
I know something about Steve, though, that he might think I’ve forgotten. Steve was just an acquaintance of mine during college, but he dated Stacy, who was my friend. Steve went to Amsterdam ahead of Stacy, and they planned to meet up during a study-abroad course. He didn’t write or call in the weeks of separation, and she didn’t know how to contact him once she got there. Amsterdam is a small city, though, and she saw him on the street walking hand in hand with another woman. Stacy was devastated, and she got neither an explanation nor an apology.
Stacy is the fly in Steve’s buttermilk. He’s not perfect, and all his life choices don’t bundle up neatly. It’s nice to have some dirt on Steve, because it feels good to know that this holy, blessed man was once an asshole, and maybe he still is from time to time. It’s good to know that his boat has a few leaks, just like mine.
This year’s Love Won Out conference took place at North Heights Lutheran Church, a huge church in a St. Paul suburb. Love Won Out is the “ex-gay” educational traveling show of Focus on the Family. I could explain why I went, but that would derail this story entirely. During a mid-morning sugar low, I sidled past the exhibitors’ booth that had the largest bowl of candy, feigning interest in Christian psychiatric services. I moved on, miniature Hershey’s bar in hand, and heard someone calling my name.
“Shit,” I thought, “I’ve been entrapped by the shrink who set out this candy…But how would he know my name?”
Steve (not his real name) was calling “Jenell” (my real name). Steve and I were acquaintances during college, and haven’t seen each other for about eleven years. I haven’t thought of him even once since the last time I saw him. He’s a counselor now, guiding addicts and homosexuals through a spiritually-based recovery program. (I could explain why homosexuals and addicts are in that sentence together, but again, that would derail the story). Steve has a Bob Jones University haircut and a Liberty University master’s degree. He also has a Bethel University bachelor’s degree, but I’d prefer not to emphasize that right now.
He asked the opening questions that single women at Solomon’s Porch hate most, “So, are you married? Any kids?”
I said, “Yes, I’m married and I have three children, but the children are all dead.” After his face recovered from its pained expression, he said he remembered me as having really taken urban poverty to heart during college. I said I had lived in inner cities for thirteen years, but moved to a suburb three months ago. I laughed and said, “One neighbor family screams at each other and some of them use pot, so a little bit of ghetto is still nearby.”
My humor fell hard and flat, like jumping off a trampoline onto the ground. He said, “That can’t be an accident. God placed you next to them for a reason.”
I said, “It seems to me that it could be an accident.”
He said, “There are no accidents.”
I said, “Since my babies died, it’s hard for me to confidently identify God’s hand at work in the world.”
“There are no accidents,” he repeated.
I shrugged. I said I’d come back later in the afternoon to ask him some questions about addiction and healing, and to hear about his counseling practice.
I did return to his exhibitor’s booth, and he told some good stories about his practice, and gave me useful advice for my informal counseling with students struggling with sexual matters.
Then he said, “I’ve been thinking about what you said about accidents earlier today. I’m worried about you, Jenell. I’m concerned that you’re angry with God or that you feel alienated from Him. Is it possible for you to see your children’s deaths as an act of love?”
I said, “God killed them as an act of love?”
“Yes.”
“No. I realize I could be wrong about it, but it’s not possible for me to ever see it that way.”
“God is always loving, even if you don’t see it at the time.”
“Steve, what if I injected my husband with a deadly infection, bashed part of his head in, and told him it was loving?”
“That’s not what God did to your babies!”
“Actually, that is what happened to my babies. And if it was God who reached inside my body to infect them and kill them all, well, I will just never perceive those actions as loving. Because they’re not.”
Then we shared a moment of silence. I suspected he had gone back to the first question about my being angry with God, or that he was concerned because I had said earlier that I was “pissed off” about something. My eyes darted around the hallways and I remembered the words of Jesus in Mark 1:38, “Let us go somewhere else.”
Steve said, “Well, I see that you need to go, but can I ask you one more question?”
“OK.”
“Who are you planning to vote for this November?”
I said, “Nader,” and that said it all. Steve and I have different keys for life’s test bank. His God blessed him with three children and put one of His followers in the White House. My God stood by while my three sons died, and stands by while, like my reproductive efforts, my favorite candidate fails miserably again and again.
I know something about Steve, though, that he might think I’ve forgotten. Steve was just an acquaintance of mine during college, but he dated Stacy, who was my friend. Steve went to Amsterdam ahead of Stacy, and they planned to meet up during a study-abroad course. He didn’t write or call in the weeks of separation, and she didn’t know how to contact him once she got there. Amsterdam is a small city, though, and she saw him on the street walking hand in hand with another woman. Stacy was devastated, and she got neither an explanation nor an apology.
Stacy is the fly in Steve’s buttermilk. He’s not perfect, and all his life choices don’t bundle up neatly. It’s nice to have some dirt on Steve, because it feels good to know that this holy, blessed man was once an asshole, and maybe he still is from time to time. It’s good to know that his boat has a few leaks, just like mine.
25 Comments:
it's carla. If there are no accidents, I hope Steve is home right now thinking about what it is God wants him to learn from his conversation with you.
By
Anonymous, at 10:18 AM
From the way you describe it, he had this coming. But ouch.
By
The Utah Resistance, at 10:34 AM
I took the time to read the entire post. Outstanding! That was really good. Thank you.
Peace,
Rick, a new visitor
By
Rick, at 10:49 AM
Isn't there a statute of limitations on the ability and validity to spout out advice and judgment on people's lives who you knew from back-when?
If the government declares someone as legally dead if the body hasn't been found for seven years, I say shut your f*&^in mouth if you haven't been around, Steve.
By
Solomon's Girl, at 10:52 AM
Good God.
It is SO reassuring to know that Steve has all the answers. Please post his contact information, so that the rest of us can benefit from the fount of his wisdom.
I am mortified that people like this exist. Good for you for maintaining some civility with him, though. I always end up resorting to name-calling (like with my favorite idiot-wrapped-in-a-moron, Todd Friel.) Not a Christlike approach, to be sure, but I just can't do it right now. Maybe after the election I'll be able to be civil.
By
pete, at 11:35 AM
Jenell,
I agree that what Steve said was insensitive, but I wonder about the conclusion you have come to through your interaction with him. I'm not going to pretend that I fully understand the pain that you have gone through over the last year, but I know that many people have been blessed by the words that you write and speak about love, God, death, and mourning. I feel that your discussion with Steve could have been a great opportunity for you to share that with him. Writing about his indiscretions in college doesn't change the fact that what Steve is trying to do is what we're all trying to do: understand why there is pain and suffering in a world supposedly governed by a loving, merciful God. Steve should be ashamed at how uncaringly he approached this question with you, but I, for one, hope that God IS present in this world. Please keep sharing the hard answers with us, even with those of us who don't seem to be asking the right questions.
By
Anonymous, at 1:24 PM
Sorry, that last comment was from Laura Bates. I didn't mean to neglect that.
By
Anonymous, at 1:26 PM
Sometime when it won't derail the narrative, I'd love to hear how you ended up at the conference - it can't just be the free candy.
Laura - It's good to talk about the ways that God is present in the world. It's also good to talk about the ways it feels like God is nowhere to be found. I think people who are never angry at God or never feel abandoned by God are either not paying attention or are afraid that facing hard truths will destroy their faith. I think the ones who will admit that there's a lot of shitty stuff we can't explain believe in God more than the holy people.
By
Christy, at 2:10 PM
From Laura:
Christy, I would totally agree, and I hope that my comment didn't make it sound otherwise. My point wasn't that we should ignore the crappy things that happen to us that make us feel like God is ignoring us. Exactly the opposite, actually. I just think that some tactics of relaying that to others is healing and productive, while some just create larger divides between people. And maybe that is inevitable, because I know that we all mourn and heal in different ways.
By
Anonymous, at 3:18 PM
I didn't tell my story or insights to Steve because he was talking, not listening. It's hard to talk clearly and at length about my life's saddest story, and I only do so with people who want to hear it. And please don't misread me - Steve is a kind, good-hearted man who is investing his life into helping desperate people. I am trying to say that he and I are similar (not that he's an awful monster) - flawed people making our way through the world.
By
Jenell, at 4:04 PM
Damn. Gut-wrenching. Heart-wrenching. Faith-wrenching. Thank you for sharing that story. Honestly, one of the best blog posts I've read ... maybe ever.
By
Steve K., at 4:09 PM
Jenell, you've outdone yourself. Beautifully written.
I have some experience with the "Love Won Out" folks. (I heard Joe Nicolosi speak at Fuller Seminary a while back). They are such a challenge for me -- they read the gospel so differently than I do, and yet I've found such goodness in those whom I've met.
You dealt with Steve perfectly, IMHO. When we use bad theology to bludgeon other folks, we need to be called on it.
I can't go with you as far as Nader. Kucinich had my vote in the primary, bless him, but JFK has it this fall -- even through gritted teeth.
By
Hugo, at 7:56 PM
Hey Jenell,
I usually spend a lot of time on my blog spoofing trite Christian rubbish that is unable to engage at all with real sufferings, and hides behind pat answers.
I forget that it's actually quite a serious business though, and your blog reminded me of that. Thanks.
Sven
By
Sven, at 8:41 PM
Before I say what I'm about to type, let me make one small request: please don't hate me! ;o)
Maybe it wasn't just "trite Christian rubbish that is unable to engage at all with real sufferings, and hides behind pat answers" as Sven suggested. Maybe it was just one person doing what all of us are doing - trying to make sense of a fucked-up world.
Maybe he has more than 1 leak. Maybe his brother died of leukemia and his wife was raped last year? Perhaps he has to believe that God took those children as an act of love because he had no other way to make sense of his wife's recent miscarriage? It's possible isn't it?
What he said might have been a pile of shite, but it obviously has a few hundred years behind it as the dominant theology of the West. That doesn't make it right - and I don't think it is - but it surely suggets that one could hold that view without necessarilly being heartless?
Reminds me of a chorus from a favourite song of mine at the moment:
"Some of us laugh, some of us cry,
Some of us smoke, some of us lie,
But it's all just the way that we cope with our lives."
By
Graham Old, at 6:25 AM
Wow, i feel for you. what a horrible situation. When people react like he did, i always think that they are damaging themselves by ignoring their emotions and white-washing it all by saying 'it's God's will'. It always seems way too fatalistic to me.
By
Robb Heaton, at 10:01 AM
Graham, What is the song? I like the chorus.
By
Anonymous, at 11:23 PM
It's from a song called "Some of us" (no surprises there!) from the album "Silence is easy" by Starsailor. It's a cracking album.
By
Graham Old, at 9:19 AM
coping with your own life is one thing - but projecting your 'coping' and pat answers onto someone else and shaming them for their pain and suffering is another.
jennel, i'm so sorry for your loss, and that this man drug you through his issues. i think it is those with the most to hide that build the walls higher on the box they need to stuff god into.
he has more than one fly in his ointment, and he lives in terror of anyone seeing them, so he must wear the mask to cover the cracks in his face and faith. your kindness to him spoke greatly to me, as i would not have been so polite.
thank you for sharing your story with us.
By
bobbie, at 2:07 PM
Now if Steve was just some random guy off the street that would be one thing, but he's a PROFESSIONAL COUNSELOR????
Sheesh.
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I am hoping you will share your story.
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