Why don’t you go with me?” I had asked my daughter to accompany me to the Abby of Gethsemani. She was home with us for a few days during the Christmas holidays, visiting from New York City. Mary had been to Gethsemani with me before.
“Sure, I’d love to,” was her ready response.
It had been a long December, and in the middle of it, I wasn’t sure this year would be better than the last. Trying to hold life’s inevitable tensions in balance---the pull of decisions that had to be made, the push of the consequences that would come from them, the internal wrestling match that thrashes across the mind, sometime after 2 a.m. ---had worn me down till I cried for a time out.
What “might be,” was obscured by the fogginess of “what is.”
I knew it was time to head to Gethsemani Abby. In the solitude of the monastery I would pray, I would ponder, I would percolate: God’s Spirit would infuse me with a supernatural oxygen rush that inevitably refreshes, rejuvenates, revitalizes.
But this time was different.
Or so it seemed.
The cacophony of this world overwhelmed the quietude of that world.
My escape to Gethsemani appeared futile; I had carried the baggage of my responsibilities into the lobby of this holy place. Gethsemani seemed too familiar that day, too close to the anxieties of the outside. The cares and concerns of the world had invaded the walls protecting the quiet and calm of Gethsemani.
And it was my doing.
Mary and I joined the monks from the gallery and prayed as they prayed, chanting their prayers with them, singing the Psalms at the None prayer time. I waited for relief from my strain but found only heaviness; I couldn’t seem to shake the angst of the world, even in this place of tranquility and repose.
Walking around the back of the cathedral after prayers, Mary and I quietly chatted in subdued undertones. Staring at the naked trees across the valley, letting the December wind tickle our faces, we stood in silence, the whine of the wind whirling in our ears.
And then, quite to my surprise, my daughter prayed for me a prayer of comfort, peace, and renewal.
Somewhat humbled by a daughter’s prayer, my mind swooshed back to May 30, 1990, so many years ago, but only “just yesterday,” when Mary, age two and a half, prayed for me in her own way for the first time: “I love you, Daddy,” she told me after bedtime prayers. I took that in itself as a child’s form of prayer. And a few days later, after praying for her at night, she proclaimed from her bed, “I wanna follow Jesus, too.” Then a few months later, in response to my question before bedtime prayers, “What should we thank God for?” she smiled and answered, “Let’s thank him for Jesus.”
Prayers continued through the passing years.
Straight to that day in the middle of a long December.
And so in the dead of December, waiting for Christmas to come and go and remind us of life in Christ Jesus, I should not have been surprised.
Sometimes God speaks to us through the holiness of monks, sometimes through the beauty of nature, sometimes through the revelation of his Word, and sometimes through the prayer of a child grown to adulthood.
Elijah the prophet stood before the windstorm, but God was not in the wind. Then Elijah withstood the earthquake, but God was not in the earthquake. Elijah endured the fire, but God was not in the fire. Then, there was a gentle whisper. And Elijah heard God’s voice.
Having heard God’s voice in the whispered prayer of my child, I was ready to leave. And having left my momentary spiritual retreat, I knew the world still waited with the same stresses and strains, trials and troubles.
But all was different from within, for I---having let the still, small Voice hold me in balance within the eternal present moment, even as it passes and yet remains forever--- was ready to embrace the long December, and seize the eternal, today.
Contact David B. Whitlock, Ph.D., at davidbwhitlock.com or visit his website, www.davidbwhitlock.com
Thursday, January 26, 2012
Monday, January 23, 2012
It's all in the numbers
“Why can’t you do something like that?” My friend jokingly posed that question to me while we were waiting for a church deacons meeting to begin.
Several of us had been talking about Denver Broncos QB Tim Tebow throwing for exactly 316 yards in the Broncos’ overtime playoff win over the Pittsburg Steelers. Not only was it a career high for Tebow, it apparently stupefied many because of the apparent correlation of the number 316 to John 3:16, the biblical reference Tebow used to etch on his “eye black,” to avoid sun glare, during his days as QB for the Florida Gators.
The Bible verse, Tebow’s favorite, says, “For God loved the world so much that he gave his one and only Son, so that everyone who believes in him will not perish but have eternal life.” Tebow, easily America’s most popular Christian athlete, has had a close public association with that verse.
The 316 total passing yards was not the only 3:16 connection. He also threw for 31.6 yards per completion. And there’s more: during the final quarter of the game, the TV rating was 31.6. And one final association with the John reference: Tebow works for two men, both of whom have the first name, John.
Can you hear the background music from the Twilight Zone?
Then again, for more rational thinkers--- maybe not.
In answer to the question, “Why can’t you do something like that?” I rejoined, “Tim Tebow only had to look at the Pittsburg Steelers’ defense, not a bunch of ornery Baptist deacons.” (They really can be ornery, but I didn’t say that.)
In all seriousness---since some people do take these numbers seriously, maintaining that the statistics point to John 3:16 as a divine affirmation of Tebow’s witness--- what do we make of this?
I’ve long believed God uses a variety of ways to draw attention to his Good News. And if the statistics can be used as an opportunity for that discussion, then believers can use it in a positive way.
But they should also be extremely cautious when it comes to reading messages from God into football statistics. As Josh Tinley (Kneeling in the End Zone: Spiritual Lessons From the World of Sports) observed in his blog, two of the numbers cited in that playoff game were 31.6, not 3.16.
Why not look for a book in the Bible that has a 31:6, like II Chronicles 31:6, which says in part, “The people…brought in (their) tithes.” And, besides, many Bible passages other than John have a 3:16. How do we know that those statistics don’t refer to one of them?
Then there is the matter of other football players, who like Tebow, are Christians. For example, Colt McCoy, QB for the Cleveland Browns, is active in the Fellowship of Christian Athletes. Why not see if any of his statistics connect with a Bible passage he has publicly quoted at some time? What would that reveal?
Or, what if an athlete was of another faith, say Islam? Would evangelicals be disturbed if some of his statistics connected with a passage from the Koran?
The point is, we can substantiate all kinds of beliefs---some true, some erroneous---when we gaze long enough in the tea leaves. Michael Shermer, a religious skeptic, uses this truth to challenge the very essence of religion. In his book, The Believing Brain, he maintains that the brain is “a belief engine,” which looks for and finds confirmation for beliefs in patterns; we naturally find meaning in connecting the dots, infusing those patterns with meaning, which only serves to reinforce the beliefs with which we began.
So, perhaps believers would do better to practice “tebowing” (so named after the way Tebow kneels in prayer on the sidelines) and remember the words he often speaks, “First and foremost, I just want to thank my Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ. He’s done so much in my life.”
Having done that, leave the statistics to the people in the press box. After all, those stats are only numbers.
And, so much of athletic success---and, yes, even some so-called miracles---is all in the numbers.
David B. Whitlock, Ph.D, is Pastor of Lebanon Baptist Church in Lebanon, Ky. He also teaches as an adjunct professor at Campbellsville University in Campbellsville, Ky. Contact David at drdavid@davidbwhitlock.com or visit his website, www.davidbwhitlock.com
Several of us had been talking about Denver Broncos QB Tim Tebow throwing for exactly 316 yards in the Broncos’ overtime playoff win over the Pittsburg Steelers. Not only was it a career high for Tebow, it apparently stupefied many because of the apparent correlation of the number 316 to John 3:16, the biblical reference Tebow used to etch on his “eye black,” to avoid sun glare, during his days as QB for the Florida Gators.
The Bible verse, Tebow’s favorite, says, “For God loved the world so much that he gave his one and only Son, so that everyone who believes in him will not perish but have eternal life.” Tebow, easily America’s most popular Christian athlete, has had a close public association with that verse.
The 316 total passing yards was not the only 3:16 connection. He also threw for 31.6 yards per completion. And there’s more: during the final quarter of the game, the TV rating was 31.6. And one final association with the John reference: Tebow works for two men, both of whom have the first name, John.
Can you hear the background music from the Twilight Zone?
Then again, for more rational thinkers--- maybe not.
In answer to the question, “Why can’t you do something like that?” I rejoined, “Tim Tebow only had to look at the Pittsburg Steelers’ defense, not a bunch of ornery Baptist deacons.” (They really can be ornery, but I didn’t say that.)
In all seriousness---since some people do take these numbers seriously, maintaining that the statistics point to John 3:16 as a divine affirmation of Tebow’s witness--- what do we make of this?
I’ve long believed God uses a variety of ways to draw attention to his Good News. And if the statistics can be used as an opportunity for that discussion, then believers can use it in a positive way.
But they should also be extremely cautious when it comes to reading messages from God into football statistics. As Josh Tinley (Kneeling in the End Zone: Spiritual Lessons From the World of Sports) observed in his blog, two of the numbers cited in that playoff game were 31.6, not 3.16.
Why not look for a book in the Bible that has a 31:6, like II Chronicles 31:6, which says in part, “The people…brought in (their) tithes.” And, besides, many Bible passages other than John have a 3:16. How do we know that those statistics don’t refer to one of them?
Then there is the matter of other football players, who like Tebow, are Christians. For example, Colt McCoy, QB for the Cleveland Browns, is active in the Fellowship of Christian Athletes. Why not see if any of his statistics connect with a Bible passage he has publicly quoted at some time? What would that reveal?
Or, what if an athlete was of another faith, say Islam? Would evangelicals be disturbed if some of his statistics connected with a passage from the Koran?
The point is, we can substantiate all kinds of beliefs---some true, some erroneous---when we gaze long enough in the tea leaves. Michael Shermer, a religious skeptic, uses this truth to challenge the very essence of religion. In his book, The Believing Brain, he maintains that the brain is “a belief engine,” which looks for and finds confirmation for beliefs in patterns; we naturally find meaning in connecting the dots, infusing those patterns with meaning, which only serves to reinforce the beliefs with which we began.
So, perhaps believers would do better to practice “tebowing” (so named after the way Tebow kneels in prayer on the sidelines) and remember the words he often speaks, “First and foremost, I just want to thank my Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ. He’s done so much in my life.”
Having done that, leave the statistics to the people in the press box. After all, those stats are only numbers.
And, so much of athletic success---and, yes, even some so-called miracles---is all in the numbers.
David B. Whitlock, Ph.D, is Pastor of Lebanon Baptist Church in Lebanon, Ky. He also teaches as an adjunct professor at Campbellsville University in Campbellsville, Ky. Contact David at drdavid@davidbwhitlock.com or visit his website, www.davidbwhitlock.com
Friday, January 13, 2012
Only pictures on a calendar?
The New Year already has flown, leaving its newborn status lying flat in the nest.
And I’m left with all these extra calendars---two from local businesses, two from churches which somehow think I will be interested in adding their agenda to my schedule, and another complimentary calendar from a company wanting me to buy calendars to give people next year, assuming, I suppose, that I somehow believe others will be interested in my agenda next year.
But I like the pictures on these calendars, anyway.
Most appealing to me are calendars with pictures of nature coinciding with each season, which is nice, especially if you live in a place where you don’t have distinct seasons. In Oklahoma, where I grew up, we could have a brutal winter followed by a miserably hot summer---both of which seemed to endure forever. But fall was a weekend fling, and spring was a whiff in the air. So I loved gazing into those calendar pictures of a New England fall foliage or a radiant springtime in Kentucky. Ahh---how relaxing they seemed, especially to a high strung high school kid.
Why do so many calendars have pictures of animals---dogs, cats, horses? I suppose if petting a dog or having a cat curl up in your lap can steady your emotions on a roller coaster day, maybe the next best thing would be a picture of a likeable creature. And that’s nice, especially when so many of the human species aren’t.
Calendars with mountain or ocean scenes can bring relief from the harsh realities of life, too. Just imagine you are there, and that can smooth wrinkled emotions.
But, of all the calendars I enjoy, one calendar stands above all the rest.
That’s happens to be the custom calendar my wife created online. Each month is filled with pictorial memories of my family. I turn to January and there is Mary and me, having a cup of Community Coffee in the kitchen; in April Lori is baking a birthday pie for Madi; I look to July and there’s Dave and Madi splashing in the pool with our two Schnauzers; a glance at August and Mary and Madi are cooking an Italian dish for grandparents; and finally, I’m in December smiling at Harrison opening presents.
Relax, release, rejuvenate.
Calendar pictures of family soothe me amidst the stress and strain of life, reminding me, as I close my eyes with those pictures in my mind’s eye, of life’s priorities. Unlike the old flip books, which created an illusion of motion as you thumbed through them, glancing through the calendar’s family photos does quite the opposite: It halts the movement into a single photo shot, a sort of mental composite, leaving us with an image of what’s really important: family.
I’ve never known anyone in their dying moment wish for more time at the office. But I have seen, time and again, person after person, finding comfort as they lay dying in the presence of their family.
Death brings the living together---at least for a dying moment.
On this calendar day, I’m standing with a young couple at the graveside service for their stillborn child. Grieving the memories of memories that never happened---their baby’s first cry, the giggles, the words “Dada,” and “Mama,” the baby’s first steps---the parents seem mesmerized by the tiny box containing the body of their baby.
Having closed the service, the harsh January wind whips across our faces as I ask: “Would you like a little time here just to yourselves, apart from the rest of your family?”
“No,” the father whispers, “we can only make it as a unit.”
A unit--- a family unit.
I doubt that cemetery scene will be on a calendar picture next year or ever, but I hope the words will echo for that family through the months of each year: “We can only make it as a unit.”
Death is a part of living, and though it’s usually an uninvited and unwelcomed guest, it still intrudes onto our calendars without our invitation or embrace, reminding us that it has an appointment with each of us on a number somewhere between one and thirty-one. But the family pictures, those memories of life---or even the desire for it---breathe significance into what is past and cast hope for the future: We can make it as a unit, a family unit.
And that’s the truth---no matter what pictures are on your calendar.
Contact David B. Whitlock, Ph.D. at drdavid@davidbwhitlock.com, or visit his web site, davidbwhitlock.com
And I’m left with all these extra calendars---two from local businesses, two from churches which somehow think I will be interested in adding their agenda to my schedule, and another complimentary calendar from a company wanting me to buy calendars to give people next year, assuming, I suppose, that I somehow believe others will be interested in my agenda next year.
But I like the pictures on these calendars, anyway.
Most appealing to me are calendars with pictures of nature coinciding with each season, which is nice, especially if you live in a place where you don’t have distinct seasons. In Oklahoma, where I grew up, we could have a brutal winter followed by a miserably hot summer---both of which seemed to endure forever. But fall was a weekend fling, and spring was a whiff in the air. So I loved gazing into those calendar pictures of a New England fall foliage or a radiant springtime in Kentucky. Ahh---how relaxing they seemed, especially to a high strung high school kid.
Why do so many calendars have pictures of animals---dogs, cats, horses? I suppose if petting a dog or having a cat curl up in your lap can steady your emotions on a roller coaster day, maybe the next best thing would be a picture of a likeable creature. And that’s nice, especially when so many of the human species aren’t.
Calendars with mountain or ocean scenes can bring relief from the harsh realities of life, too. Just imagine you are there, and that can smooth wrinkled emotions.
But, of all the calendars I enjoy, one calendar stands above all the rest.
That’s happens to be the custom calendar my wife created online. Each month is filled with pictorial memories of my family. I turn to January and there is Mary and me, having a cup of Community Coffee in the kitchen; in April Lori is baking a birthday pie for Madi; I look to July and there’s Dave and Madi splashing in the pool with our two Schnauzers; a glance at August and Mary and Madi are cooking an Italian dish for grandparents; and finally, I’m in December smiling at Harrison opening presents.
Relax, release, rejuvenate.
Calendar pictures of family soothe me amidst the stress and strain of life, reminding me, as I close my eyes with those pictures in my mind’s eye, of life’s priorities. Unlike the old flip books, which created an illusion of motion as you thumbed through them, glancing through the calendar’s family photos does quite the opposite: It halts the movement into a single photo shot, a sort of mental composite, leaving us with an image of what’s really important: family.
I’ve never known anyone in their dying moment wish for more time at the office. But I have seen, time and again, person after person, finding comfort as they lay dying in the presence of their family.
Death brings the living together---at least for a dying moment.
On this calendar day, I’m standing with a young couple at the graveside service for their stillborn child. Grieving the memories of memories that never happened---their baby’s first cry, the giggles, the words “Dada,” and “Mama,” the baby’s first steps---the parents seem mesmerized by the tiny box containing the body of their baby.
Having closed the service, the harsh January wind whips across our faces as I ask: “Would you like a little time here just to yourselves, apart from the rest of your family?”
“No,” the father whispers, “we can only make it as a unit.”
A unit--- a family unit.
I doubt that cemetery scene will be on a calendar picture next year or ever, but I hope the words will echo for that family through the months of each year: “We can only make it as a unit.”
Death is a part of living, and though it’s usually an uninvited and unwelcomed guest, it still intrudes onto our calendars without our invitation or embrace, reminding us that it has an appointment with each of us on a number somewhere between one and thirty-one. But the family pictures, those memories of life---or even the desire for it---breathe significance into what is past and cast hope for the future: We can make it as a unit, a family unit.
And that’s the truth---no matter what pictures are on your calendar.
Contact David B. Whitlock, Ph.D. at drdavid@davidbwhitlock.com, or visit his web site, davidbwhitlock.com
Friday, December 30, 2011
Another earth, another you, another year
Scientists have finally discovered another earth. Well, sort of.
Earlier this month NASA’s Kepler space telescope team announced the discovery of “Kepler-22b,” located in what is called a “habitable zone,” meaning an environment that’s not too hot or too cold for the possibility of life. And just last week, the team unveiled two other earth-sized planets, Kepler-20e and Kepler-20f, although they are not in the habitable zone.
“This discovery shows that we Homo sapiens are straining our reach into the universe to find planets that remind us of home. We are almost there,” said Geoff Marcy of the University of California, Berkeley, one of the world’s leaders in the search for planets.
But apparently a lot of space exists between those two words, “almost,” and “there.” Being reminded of home and finding another earth is more than a world or an earth apart. Kepler-22b for instance, is 600 light years away. Traveling by space shuttle, it would take 22 million years to get there. And Kepler 22b’s size, 2.4 times the size of earth, makes it too big for an atmosphere like earth’s, according to planetary scientist Lena Noack.
Yet scientists are invigorated by the possibility of finding another earth: “You can bet that the hunt is on to find…a true earth twin,” avers astronomer David Charbonneau of Harvard University.
Although I’ve never been a science fiction fan, the dreamer in me is fascinated with the concept of another earth and what it would be like.
The 2011 film, Another Earth, explored the idea of another earth as an opportunity for a second chance in life, a place where a parallel you exists with another, possibly better life. The producers used astrophysicist, Dr. Richard Berendzen, (author of Pulp Physics) for the background voice asking the probing questions about a parallel earth and our place in it: “Could we even recognize ourselves, and if we did, would we know ourselves? What would we say to ourselves? What would we learn from ourselves? What would we really like to see if we could stand outside ourselves and look at us?”
The truth is, we don’t have to travel 22 million years in space to find a place where we can ask those or similar questions. Standing on the precipice of a New Year is occasion enough to step outside ourselves and take inventory of who we are, really.
Do we know what to say to ourselves? Do we know the self to whom we speak? Are we strangers to ourselves?
C.G. Jung, the Swiss psychoanalyst, wrote about an inner dimension he referred to as the True Self. For Jung, this Self, as author Sue Monk Kidd points out, doesn’t refer to the ego, as in myself, but to the Center of our being, the image of God within us. As we find and cultivate that place we discover our True Self.
It’s the place Jesus of Nazareth described as being, “The Kingdom of God within you” (Luke 17:21), and when we reject it, we also deny our True Self. As Thomas Merton, the Trappist monk of Gethsemani Abby said, “My false and private self is the one who wants to exist outside the reach of God’s will and God’s love...And such a self cannot help but be an illusion.” For Merton, the secret of our identity, our True Self, is “hidden in the love and mercy of God.”
Sometime between now and the New Year, I think I’ll step outside and peering into the universe, ponder the possibility of another earth, and then, I’ll look within, and even though I’m not there---still without all the answers---I’ll find comfort in the words of the young theologian, Dietrich Bonhoeffer, who before being martyred by the Nazis, concluded his poem, “Who Am I?” with the line, “Whoever I am, Thou knowest, O God, I am Thine!”
Knowing the same One who has me also has the universe and all that’s in it, I’ll then say “Yes,” to my True Self, and taking God’s hand, step boldly into another New Year.
Contact David B. Whitlock, Ph.D., at drdavid@davidbwhitlock.com or visit his website, www.davidbwhitlock.com
Earlier this month NASA’s Kepler space telescope team announced the discovery of “Kepler-22b,” located in what is called a “habitable zone,” meaning an environment that’s not too hot or too cold for the possibility of life. And just last week, the team unveiled two other earth-sized planets, Kepler-20e and Kepler-20f, although they are not in the habitable zone.
“This discovery shows that we Homo sapiens are straining our reach into the universe to find planets that remind us of home. We are almost there,” said Geoff Marcy of the University of California, Berkeley, one of the world’s leaders in the search for planets.
But apparently a lot of space exists between those two words, “almost,” and “there.” Being reminded of home and finding another earth is more than a world or an earth apart. Kepler-22b for instance, is 600 light years away. Traveling by space shuttle, it would take 22 million years to get there. And Kepler 22b’s size, 2.4 times the size of earth, makes it too big for an atmosphere like earth’s, according to planetary scientist Lena Noack.
Yet scientists are invigorated by the possibility of finding another earth: “You can bet that the hunt is on to find…a true earth twin,” avers astronomer David Charbonneau of Harvard University.
Although I’ve never been a science fiction fan, the dreamer in me is fascinated with the concept of another earth and what it would be like.
The 2011 film, Another Earth, explored the idea of another earth as an opportunity for a second chance in life, a place where a parallel you exists with another, possibly better life. The producers used astrophysicist, Dr. Richard Berendzen, (author of Pulp Physics) for the background voice asking the probing questions about a parallel earth and our place in it: “Could we even recognize ourselves, and if we did, would we know ourselves? What would we say to ourselves? What would we learn from ourselves? What would we really like to see if we could stand outside ourselves and look at us?”
The truth is, we don’t have to travel 22 million years in space to find a place where we can ask those or similar questions. Standing on the precipice of a New Year is occasion enough to step outside ourselves and take inventory of who we are, really.
Do we know what to say to ourselves? Do we know the self to whom we speak? Are we strangers to ourselves?
C.G. Jung, the Swiss psychoanalyst, wrote about an inner dimension he referred to as the True Self. For Jung, this Self, as author Sue Monk Kidd points out, doesn’t refer to the ego, as in myself, but to the Center of our being, the image of God within us. As we find and cultivate that place we discover our True Self.
It’s the place Jesus of Nazareth described as being, “The Kingdom of God within you” (Luke 17:21), and when we reject it, we also deny our True Self. As Thomas Merton, the Trappist monk of Gethsemani Abby said, “My false and private self is the one who wants to exist outside the reach of God’s will and God’s love...And such a self cannot help but be an illusion.” For Merton, the secret of our identity, our True Self, is “hidden in the love and mercy of God.”
Sometime between now and the New Year, I think I’ll step outside and peering into the universe, ponder the possibility of another earth, and then, I’ll look within, and even though I’m not there---still without all the answers---I’ll find comfort in the words of the young theologian, Dietrich Bonhoeffer, who before being martyred by the Nazis, concluded his poem, “Who Am I?” with the line, “Whoever I am, Thou knowest, O God, I am Thine!”
Knowing the same One who has me also has the universe and all that’s in it, I’ll then say “Yes,” to my True Self, and taking God’s hand, step boldly into another New Year.
Contact David B. Whitlock, Ph.D., at drdavid@davidbwhitlock.com or visit his website, www.davidbwhitlock.com
Thursday, December 22, 2011
Surviving Christmas in a blended family
Christmas can be tough, especially for blended families. And apparently there are plenty of them. It’s been estimated that more than half of Americans live in some form of a blended family. Stepfamily therapist, Steven Straub, believes that the blended family will become, if it’s not already, the predominate family structure in the United States.
One of the major stressors during the holiday season involves the dynamics involved in blending a family. The holiday season comes packaged with enough tension already, what with gifts to buy, traffic to fight, and programs to attend. When you throw in the jealousies of a step grandmother, or the vengefulness of an ex-spouse, or the hurt feelings of stepchildren, or the insecurity of stepsiblings, (the variables for family strife are virtually endless) a veritable boiling cauldron of emotions threatens to spill over into the dream of the quaint family Christmas, scalding any possibility of what peace and joy might have been.
Eight years ago I experienced my first Christmas with our blended family. With each Christmas our family has drawn closer as together we’ve experienced the challenge of each holiday.
I’ve learned a few lessons that have helped me grow with my blended family during the holiday season.
I ceased chasing that perfect Christmas; it doesn’t exist; there never was one and never will be. God could have made that first Christmas a perfect one, but he didn’t. No room was left in the inn; and the holy family was homeless. Maybe God was trying to tell us something: Life is experienced in the struggle---in brokenness, in hurt, and in pain. Just as he was there in a dirty stable the first Christmas, so God is in the midst of our families’ messiness.
Releasing the pressure of finding the perfect Christmas freed us to try new things. We’ve taken past traditions and incorporated them into our family in ways that created something different. For instance, we open some presents on Christmas Eve (a tradition from my family) and some on Christmas morning (a tradition in Lori’s family), and in so doing started a new tradition.
I’ve also learned that no matter the number of children (we have four) in a blended family, each child is different, and each child is the same. Each has unique characteristics, but they all have the same basic emotional needs: love, acceptance, security, attention. In healthy family relations those needs can be met. Maybe that’s why the biblical character, King David, described God as a “father to the fatherless, a defender of widows,” a God who “places the lonely in families” (Psalm 68:5, 6).
Christmas season bristles with emotions so tense they sometimes seem to ricochet off the walls. I like the words of the Apostle Paul when he admonished his readers to “take care of those who are weak” (I Thessalonians 5:14). Often, during Christmas, those in blended families are experiencing the deep pain of broken relationships or feeling the emptiness of a loved one who is no longer there. Or maybe both.
It’s perhaps the sense of loss---the absence of a parent or child at Christmas, the grief of what once was and never will be again---that is most pronounced in blended families. But, the void felt by changed circumstances cuts across the emotional landscape of all family structures, however “family” may be defined.
My mother and father are encountering the emotions experienced with their first Christmas in a retirement facility. “I miss the smells of cooking in my own kitchen, decorating my house, and inviting friends over,” Mom confided to me the other day. And then with added insight, “One thing about it, life is about change, no matter your age or where you are.”
Or the type of family you’re in.
It’s true; it’s inevitable: Change is the permanent constant. Successfully blending a family is only saying, “Yes,” to the possibilities for new life, knowing that whether it’s Thanksgiving, Christmas, or Easter--life is found in the One who never changes, the One who calls us forward, the One who knows blending our life with those we love is what life is all about.
Contact David B. Whitlock, Ph.D. at drdavid@davidbwhitlock.com or visit his website, www.davidbwhitlock.com
One of the major stressors during the holiday season involves the dynamics involved in blending a family. The holiday season comes packaged with enough tension already, what with gifts to buy, traffic to fight, and programs to attend. When you throw in the jealousies of a step grandmother, or the vengefulness of an ex-spouse, or the hurt feelings of stepchildren, or the insecurity of stepsiblings, (the variables for family strife are virtually endless) a veritable boiling cauldron of emotions threatens to spill over into the dream of the quaint family Christmas, scalding any possibility of what peace and joy might have been.
Eight years ago I experienced my first Christmas with our blended family. With each Christmas our family has drawn closer as together we’ve experienced the challenge of each holiday.
I’ve learned a few lessons that have helped me grow with my blended family during the holiday season.
I ceased chasing that perfect Christmas; it doesn’t exist; there never was one and never will be. God could have made that first Christmas a perfect one, but he didn’t. No room was left in the inn; and the holy family was homeless. Maybe God was trying to tell us something: Life is experienced in the struggle---in brokenness, in hurt, and in pain. Just as he was there in a dirty stable the first Christmas, so God is in the midst of our families’ messiness.
Releasing the pressure of finding the perfect Christmas freed us to try new things. We’ve taken past traditions and incorporated them into our family in ways that created something different. For instance, we open some presents on Christmas Eve (a tradition from my family) and some on Christmas morning (a tradition in Lori’s family), and in so doing started a new tradition.
I’ve also learned that no matter the number of children (we have four) in a blended family, each child is different, and each child is the same. Each has unique characteristics, but they all have the same basic emotional needs: love, acceptance, security, attention. In healthy family relations those needs can be met. Maybe that’s why the biblical character, King David, described God as a “father to the fatherless, a defender of widows,” a God who “places the lonely in families” (Psalm 68:5, 6).
Christmas season bristles with emotions so tense they sometimes seem to ricochet off the walls. I like the words of the Apostle Paul when he admonished his readers to “take care of those who are weak” (I Thessalonians 5:14). Often, during Christmas, those in blended families are experiencing the deep pain of broken relationships or feeling the emptiness of a loved one who is no longer there. Or maybe both.
It’s perhaps the sense of loss---the absence of a parent or child at Christmas, the grief of what once was and never will be again---that is most pronounced in blended families. But, the void felt by changed circumstances cuts across the emotional landscape of all family structures, however “family” may be defined.
My mother and father are encountering the emotions experienced with their first Christmas in a retirement facility. “I miss the smells of cooking in my own kitchen, decorating my house, and inviting friends over,” Mom confided to me the other day. And then with added insight, “One thing about it, life is about change, no matter your age or where you are.”
Or the type of family you’re in.
It’s true; it’s inevitable: Change is the permanent constant. Successfully blending a family is only saying, “Yes,” to the possibilities for new life, knowing that whether it’s Thanksgiving, Christmas, or Easter--life is found in the One who never changes, the One who calls us forward, the One who knows blending our life with those we love is what life is all about.
Contact David B. Whitlock, Ph.D. at drdavid@davidbwhitlock.com or visit his website, www.davidbwhitlock.com
Friday, December 16, 2011
All I want for Christmas is my nip and tuck
Back in 1944, while teaching music in public school, Donald Gardner asked his second grade class what they wanted for Christmas. Noticing how almost all his students answered him with a lisp because they had at least one front tooth missing, Gardner sat down and wrote the song, “All I Want for Christmas is My Two Front Teeth.”
Unfortunately, at least for many youth, it takes much more than two new front teeth to fit into the norm physically; it takes a nip here and a tuck there.
Many, if not most, adults get cosmetic surgery because they don’t want to look their age; they don’t want to look like the rest. They want to be noticed in the crowd.
What’s interesting is that the increase in teenagers getting cosmetic surgery (cosmetic surgical procedures on youths 18 and younger more than tripled from 1997- 2007, with the controversial procedures, breast augmentation and liposuction, increasing six fold) appears to be for the opposite reason adults choose plastic surgery. In a report by Camille Sweeney in the New York Times, Dr. Frederick Lukash, a cosmetic surgeon in New York City who specializes in treating adults, said, “Unlike adults who may elect cosmetic surgery for the ‘wow’ factor to stand out in a crowd, to be rejuvenated and get noticed, kids have different mantra. They do it to fit in.”
Undergoing surgery to fit in is not without risks, risks most teenagers don’t think through.”Teenagers are often oblivious to the well-documented long-term health consequences of smoking, tanning, and other risky behaviors, and are likely to pay less attention to the risks of cosmetic surgery, making informed consent difficult,” warns psychologist and women’s health expert, Dr. Diana Zuckeman.
That’s not to say all corrective surgery is wrong. On the contrary, some cosmetic procedures have worked wonders for a child’s self esteem. Michael Laudiso, now an adult, reported to Camille Sweeney that having his large ears pinned when he was ten was a life saver: “That surgery made me free.”
Neither is there anything awry or unusual with trying to improve how we look or taking measures to look younger. Jane Fonda decided to go under the knife when she walked by a mirror, caught a glimpse of herself and wondered who that face belonged to. “I thought, ‘Oh my God, it’s me,’” Fonda told TODAY’s Matt Lauer earlier this month. “I just decided I wanted to buy myself some time and look more like how I feel.” said Fonda. She had work on her chin, neck and under the eyes.
But, the real danger lies when we adults create a cultural environment where a young person thinks every tiny detail has to be picture perfect, and where we ourselves think it’s necessary to undergo countless procedures to keep getting that “wow” effect.
We forget the inner beauty that lies much deeper than our aging skin, a beauty that can grow even more attractive with age, a beauty that can’t be touched by a scalpel.
Apparently, Lauren Scruggs’ beauty is more than skin deep. She’s the 23 year-old model who walked into the propeller of a an airplane, fracturing her skull, severing her left hand, breaking her collar bone, injuring her brain, and causing extensive damage to her left eye. Her first spoken words after regaining consciousness were, “I love you.” And, when Lauren used a mirror to see her face for the first time after the accident, her response was, “That’s not that bad.”
I thought of her words as I was getting my haircut the other day. Glancing in the mirror at myself, I noticed a new wrinkle here and some sagging skin there. “Who is that guy who seems to be getting older quicker than I thought he would,” I thought. Then, with a hidden smile, I repeated Lauren’s words to myself, “That’s not that bad.”
And thanking the Lord for the gift of life itself, I said it again, “No, not that bad at all.”
Email David B. Whitlock, Ph.D. at drdavid@davidbwhitlock.com. or visit his website, davidbwhitlock.com
Unfortunately, at least for many youth, it takes much more than two new front teeth to fit into the norm physically; it takes a nip here and a tuck there.
Many, if not most, adults get cosmetic surgery because they don’t want to look their age; they don’t want to look like the rest. They want to be noticed in the crowd.
What’s interesting is that the increase in teenagers getting cosmetic surgery (cosmetic surgical procedures on youths 18 and younger more than tripled from 1997- 2007, with the controversial procedures, breast augmentation and liposuction, increasing six fold) appears to be for the opposite reason adults choose plastic surgery. In a report by Camille Sweeney in the New York Times, Dr. Frederick Lukash, a cosmetic surgeon in New York City who specializes in treating adults, said, “Unlike adults who may elect cosmetic surgery for the ‘wow’ factor to stand out in a crowd, to be rejuvenated and get noticed, kids have different mantra. They do it to fit in.”
Undergoing surgery to fit in is not without risks, risks most teenagers don’t think through.”Teenagers are often oblivious to the well-documented long-term health consequences of smoking, tanning, and other risky behaviors, and are likely to pay less attention to the risks of cosmetic surgery, making informed consent difficult,” warns psychologist and women’s health expert, Dr. Diana Zuckeman.
That’s not to say all corrective surgery is wrong. On the contrary, some cosmetic procedures have worked wonders for a child’s self esteem. Michael Laudiso, now an adult, reported to Camille Sweeney that having his large ears pinned when he was ten was a life saver: “That surgery made me free.”
Neither is there anything awry or unusual with trying to improve how we look or taking measures to look younger. Jane Fonda decided to go under the knife when she walked by a mirror, caught a glimpse of herself and wondered who that face belonged to. “I thought, ‘Oh my God, it’s me,’” Fonda told TODAY’s Matt Lauer earlier this month. “I just decided I wanted to buy myself some time and look more like how I feel.” said Fonda. She had work on her chin, neck and under the eyes.
But, the real danger lies when we adults create a cultural environment where a young person thinks every tiny detail has to be picture perfect, and where we ourselves think it’s necessary to undergo countless procedures to keep getting that “wow” effect.
We forget the inner beauty that lies much deeper than our aging skin, a beauty that can grow even more attractive with age, a beauty that can’t be touched by a scalpel.
Apparently, Lauren Scruggs’ beauty is more than skin deep. She’s the 23 year-old model who walked into the propeller of a an airplane, fracturing her skull, severing her left hand, breaking her collar bone, injuring her brain, and causing extensive damage to her left eye. Her first spoken words after regaining consciousness were, “I love you.” And, when Lauren used a mirror to see her face for the first time after the accident, her response was, “That’s not that bad.”
I thought of her words as I was getting my haircut the other day. Glancing in the mirror at myself, I noticed a new wrinkle here and some sagging skin there. “Who is that guy who seems to be getting older quicker than I thought he would,” I thought. Then, with a hidden smile, I repeated Lauren’s words to myself, “That’s not that bad.”
And thanking the Lord for the gift of life itself, I said it again, “No, not that bad at all.”
Email David B. Whitlock, Ph.D. at drdavid@davidbwhitlock.com. or visit his website, davidbwhitlock.com
Thursday, December 8, 2011
Finding Common Ground at the Manger this Christmas
“What part of Christmas do you find most stressful?” I asked my secretary the other day.
“The shopping,” she said, without hesitating.
“The shopping,” those two words just about cover it all.
The traffic---trying to find a parking place, struggling to drive from one store to the next--- and the crowds, rushing to get in line, scurrying by other shoppers in the mall---all come with the shopping. It’s an all inclusive non-bargain.
And, unless you have the patience of Job or the placidity of the Dali Lama, you’re most likely to bring your little gift bags of shopping stress and strain to your home, or work, or even---dare I say it?---your house of worship.
December---the month when Christians are supposed to be focusing on the birth of the Christ child---is not immune from the same conflict and discord that characterize the world the other eleven months of the year. December just seems to get hit hardest that way.
The angel’s words to the shepherds, announcing the birth of Jesus, seem to mock our frequently misplaced priorities: “Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, good will toward men” Luke 2:14).
“Yeah, right!” our cynical side snickers.
But wait! There’s still the possibility of a peaceful Christmas. We don’t have to stumble through this season, arriving on the 25th, battered, bruised, frustrated and drained. We are, after all, in charge of our choices and ultimately, our feelings.
Just as a swimmer in turbulent waters finds calmness beneath the surface, we too can find peace if we will only take a deep breath and dive deep, descending to the epicenter of Christmas, the ground zero of the whole tradition, the place where it all began: the night a baby was born in a manger.
For those who choose to celebrate a Christmas with Christ in it, this is where it begins and ends, if they are to find a peace that produces unity not division, hope not despair, light and not darkness.
That peace brings a sense of well-being and purpose not only to families upended by the world’s agenda, but also to houses of worship as well, and it has the potential to galvanize a united front of Christians standing in unity at the common ground found in the manger.
In this world where political agreements are stymied by entrenchment, where once married couples fight custody battles, where the have nots camp in protest of the haves, people yearn for solutions. Christmas can be a most opportune time for the Christian community to demonstrate a unity based on the peace found in the One they claim to follow.
Father Jonathan Morris, speaking recently on the talk show hosted by former evangelist, Reverend James Robison, urged Protestants and Catholics to find common ground. Father Morris, a frequent contributor and analyst for the Fox News Channel, and who currently serves as one of the vicars at the Basilica at St. Patrick’s Old Cathedral in New York City, issued an impassioned plea for Christians to work together. Speaking to Robison, Fr. Morris said, “Not that you believe every single theological thing that I believe…but we have so much in common, we have one person in common, that is Jesus Christ…(so) we have to work together, we have to have courage to walk together no matter what anyone says.”
Maybe a start in that direction could be made if Protestants stepped inside a Catholic Church and Catholics stood in a Protestant church and sensing the traditions of the place, found a manger scene or at least a picture or image of the Christ child.
Having done that, maybe believers could try gazing at the scene and perhaps even imagine the smell of the dirt the in that cattle stall where Jesus was born. It’s the dirt from which we all came; it’s the dust to which we all return.
But in the manger we find something beyond ourselves, something that unites us as we encounter Jesus; we discover in him the common ground that brings peace on earth and good will towards all people.
It’s in that common ground that we might just find Christmas, after all.
David B. Whitlock, Ph.D., is Pastor of Lebanon Baptist Church in Lebanon, Ky. He is also an adjunct teacher at Campbellsville University in Campbellsville, Ky. Email David at drdavid@davidbwhitlock.com or visit his website, www.davidbwhitlock.com.
“The shopping,” she said, without hesitating.
“The shopping,” those two words just about cover it all.
The traffic---trying to find a parking place, struggling to drive from one store to the next--- and the crowds, rushing to get in line, scurrying by other shoppers in the mall---all come with the shopping. It’s an all inclusive non-bargain.
And, unless you have the patience of Job or the placidity of the Dali Lama, you’re most likely to bring your little gift bags of shopping stress and strain to your home, or work, or even---dare I say it?---your house of worship.
December---the month when Christians are supposed to be focusing on the birth of the Christ child---is not immune from the same conflict and discord that characterize the world the other eleven months of the year. December just seems to get hit hardest that way.
The angel’s words to the shepherds, announcing the birth of Jesus, seem to mock our frequently misplaced priorities: “Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, good will toward men” Luke 2:14).
“Yeah, right!” our cynical side snickers.
But wait! There’s still the possibility of a peaceful Christmas. We don’t have to stumble through this season, arriving on the 25th, battered, bruised, frustrated and drained. We are, after all, in charge of our choices and ultimately, our feelings.
Just as a swimmer in turbulent waters finds calmness beneath the surface, we too can find peace if we will only take a deep breath and dive deep, descending to the epicenter of Christmas, the ground zero of the whole tradition, the place where it all began: the night a baby was born in a manger.
For those who choose to celebrate a Christmas with Christ in it, this is where it begins and ends, if they are to find a peace that produces unity not division, hope not despair, light and not darkness.
That peace brings a sense of well-being and purpose not only to families upended by the world’s agenda, but also to houses of worship as well, and it has the potential to galvanize a united front of Christians standing in unity at the common ground found in the manger.
In this world where political agreements are stymied by entrenchment, where once married couples fight custody battles, where the have nots camp in protest of the haves, people yearn for solutions. Christmas can be a most opportune time for the Christian community to demonstrate a unity based on the peace found in the One they claim to follow.
Father Jonathan Morris, speaking recently on the talk show hosted by former evangelist, Reverend James Robison, urged Protestants and Catholics to find common ground. Father Morris, a frequent contributor and analyst for the Fox News Channel, and who currently serves as one of the vicars at the Basilica at St. Patrick’s Old Cathedral in New York City, issued an impassioned plea for Christians to work together. Speaking to Robison, Fr. Morris said, “Not that you believe every single theological thing that I believe…but we have so much in common, we have one person in common, that is Jesus Christ…(so) we have to work together, we have to have courage to walk together no matter what anyone says.”
Maybe a start in that direction could be made if Protestants stepped inside a Catholic Church and Catholics stood in a Protestant church and sensing the traditions of the place, found a manger scene or at least a picture or image of the Christ child.
Having done that, maybe believers could try gazing at the scene and perhaps even imagine the smell of the dirt the in that cattle stall where Jesus was born. It’s the dirt from which we all came; it’s the dust to which we all return.
But in the manger we find something beyond ourselves, something that unites us as we encounter Jesus; we discover in him the common ground that brings peace on earth and good will towards all people.
It’s in that common ground that we might just find Christmas, after all.
David B. Whitlock, Ph.D., is Pastor of Lebanon Baptist Church in Lebanon, Ky. He is also an adjunct teacher at Campbellsville University in Campbellsville, Ky. Email David at drdavid@davidbwhitlock.com or visit his website, www.davidbwhitlock.com.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
