Love Brings Peace

This is the second week of Advent, with the topic of Peace, following the week of Hope. The nexus of these two topics is the first anniversary of the San Bernardino terrorist attack. Friday marked the first anniversary of our community changing forever. I have three prior posts related to it: The week after, related to a sermon, and around the six month mark.

I find meaning in the anniversary occurring between Hope and Peace. And our pastor's sermon this week was quite relevant.

Some of us spoke in Sunday school about how San Bernardino, when known, wasn't known very positively. A terrorist attack doesn't put it on the map of positivity any more. However, I'm so proud of how our community has responded. It should be put on the map for its response to tragedy and trauma, beginning minutes after horror. While there were minutes of horror, there have been hours, days, weeks, months, and building toward years of love, compassion, encouragement, and unity.

I'm particularly proud of two organizations I'm a part of.

My county family has risen to the occasion to respond not only to our general community, but our Public Health family, as well as to ourselves. I still lead a team of liaisons serving survivors, and my liaisons are still available 7 days a week. They've made over 3,000 contacts this year (and this is to only one group). There isn't a day that goes by that we don't think about or do something to help support our community's recovery.

My church has quietly but actively engaged, as well. Members helped clean up scraps left by the FBI that were used in bomb making. Imagine the difficulty of having that left. Our interim pastor prayed with the family of the shooters. He and other members partnered with other places of worship for interfaith strength.

These are just some of the stories of true community strength, but you likely won't hear them in any media. What brings tears to my eyes is the active acts of love that exist without fanfare or recognition, but fundamentally transform lives.

Light in the Darkness

Today marks a celebration of St. John of the Cross, author of The Dark Night of the Soul.

The last week and a half has been filled with darkness. In fact, it's fair to say the December 2 San Bernardino shooting has consumed my life since it happened.

Many of you know that my office is a half mile from the site of the shooting. Both the Inland Regional Center and Public Health are close partners. I know many Public Health employees and have referred many families to the IRC. Our building was on lockdown, and there were thoughts during the lockdown that county facilities and behavioral health sites were being targeted. The shooters' home is a few blocks from our church. Several people I work closely with lost family and friends. My department is on the front lines of crisis response, and I'm currently managing a large team working with survivors.

While the news overall has been dying down, our work has not slowed. Recovery and healing for our community will continue for weeks, months, years. And in the midst of it, the remaining press has engaged in some disgusting behavior, lying to intrude into people's personal pain and coping.

And yet the light shines.

While there have been responses of fear turned to hate, there have been far more responses of fear turned to love.

People of all walks of life have banded together to build each other up.

Dozens, if not hundreds, of county staff have volunteered to step up and do extra work to help, including 24/7 support, like those amazing people on my team.

Supportive texts, calls, Facebook posts, etc. keep us moving forward and feeling supported.

And don't forget the prayers.

Then there's parts of regular, daily life that shows me God is present and caring for me.

Our healthcare provider gave us a beautiful specialty blanket with our newborn's name embroidered on it. What healthcare provider does that?!

Our primary car (the only one that will fit the carseats) had a leak, so I took it into our shop. It was a problem that we fixed two years ago, but was now out of warranty and was going to cost around $3500 (can't afford this and was close to the cost of the car). A half hour later, the manager called me and said he pulled some strings and got it covered under warranty. No cost. And because I dropped the car off and rode my bike to work, but it was now dark and raining, the manager sent one of his employees to pick me up. I never even considered not riding to the shop. He thought of it and offered.

My toddler is obsessed with trains. We got to have some "normal" time and built a train together at a Lowe's kids clinic. He hasn't stopped talking about how we hammered together and made "our train." He's carrying it everywhere. And then last night, he said, "You're a great friend. You're a great dad."

Yes, God is present here. There is light in the darkness, and it's even more meaningful because of the darkness and will eventually overpower the darkness completely.

Review: The Reality of the Dark

The dark night of the soul is one of my passion areas because of the way it can help us reframe priorities, grow, and strip away extraneous parts of our lives. Unfortunately, some books on the topic over-spiritualize a dark night too much and try to find answers where sometimes the point is not having an answer at all.

Nancy Ortberg's latest book, Seeking in the Dark: Finding God's Light in the Most Unexpected Places does not make the mistake of explaining away dark places. While she doesn't really talk about a "dark night," that's exactly the experience she describes. She poignantly notes the way tragedy can impact our lives without watering it down or explaining it away like so many Christian authors can do. Rather, he emphasizes the need to let these experiences be as they are. The describes the pain and doesn't try to change it in any way. She acknowledges and accepts reality. And that's what allows us to move forward. As Ortberg says in quoting Dallas Willard, "God only meets us in one place, and that's reality."

She does acknowledge the challenges of the dark times, especially when they're in contrast to good times: “Living in between is hard work. It’s much simpler to make a choice, color it black or white, draw a line. But even though this living in between is more difficult, it’s better. Definitely better. What lies in between is nuance, richness, and meaning. It’s only in the in-between that we can live in color, with heartaches and joys combining hues.” There is more difficulty in living with complexity, but how much richer is life?

I find these times often help give great clarity to priorities and the meaning in life. When we over-spiritualize, theologize, minimize, or other-ize pain and darkness, the power behind them is often lost. I found Ortberg's work to be moving and reinforcing of where I should put my values and efforts.

Ortberg also does a nice job of connecting dark nights to later movement in improving the world. She states, "Stories are powerful, but stories from brokenness, stories that intersect with another’s pain–that, my friend, is life-changing stuff. This is gospel. Good news. Great news, really. It is the same power that puts us in the fight for justice, for serving the poor and the marginalized in the name of Jesus. It’s what keeps us, in the face of overwhelming odds, going the other direction, using hope as a shield for the fight against human trafficking, poverty, and inequitable access to health care, education, and work.”

We often try to avoid the pain, but it is usually because of our brokenness and pain that we are able to meet others where they are at and help bring hope to others in their darkness.

I listened to the audiobook version, which was well-done. The narrator spoke with enough inflection and passion that the book seemed to be her own (in contrast to many audiobooks that seem dry).

Disclosure of Material Connection: I received this book free from the publisher. I was not required to write a positive review. The opinions I have expressed are my own. I am disclosing this in accordance with the Federal Trade Commission’s 16 CFR, Part 255: “Guides Concerning the Use of Endorsements and Testimonials in Advertising.”

What Counts: Who You Are or What You Do?

The Dark Knight trilogy is one of my favorite film trilogies. I've always loved Batman, and Christopher Nolan's take was exquisite, as many said. I was particularly struck by the moral, ethical, and spiritual elements, even when they were subtle.

The entire trilogy, especially the second film, is a great exploration of the experience of a dark night of the soul. While I doubt the screenwriters were thinking of this connection, the name connection makes the message all the more powerful.

A while ago, I was given the opportunity to get an e-copy of a compilation of the trilogy scripts along with storyboards (stuff I love to see). It's a great collector's piece for fans of the trilogy who like this sort of behind the scenes material.

No matter how much I read or watch about the trilogy, one element of the first film has always unsettled me. An on-going dialogue between Bruce Wayne and his love interest, Rachel Dawes, in Batman Begins was, "It's not who you are underneath; it's what you do that defines you."

In the context of Wayne's lavish, careless lifestyle (or so it appears), this sort of statement makes sense. But I'm troubled by how much the characters in the film never question the statement. And frankly, it's a very theological one. It's much along the lines of the relative importance of faith and works. It also intersects with psychology, as some therapies focus on personality and character traits while other emphasize behavior.

I've always been inclined to lean more on the side of identity being important. It is one's identity (encompassing personality, character, etc.) that drives actions. In the Dark Knight trilogy, Wayne was able to become an amazing Batman because of who he was inside, not just because he did certain actions. This is my primary criticism against a lot of strict behavioral models of psychology. Just because actions are taken doesn't mean internal change occurs. I guess the question is how important internal change really is. And if it's real and can occur. I believe it can, and Matthew 23:26-28 really resonates here for me.

How often do we see people do generous things, but only as long as others know what they do? I think those actions can still be valuable, but I believe there is a different quality to that sort of action and the truly heart-felt behaviors. It's almost a difference between the anonymity of Batman's Bruce Wayne in comparison to the narcissism of Iron Man's Tony Stark (although the latter did do a lot of action for the right reasons).

It's hard to untangle identity from behavior on a surface, almost quantitative level. But qualitatively, there's big difference in behavior based on identity. And who you are underneath really does count.

Disclosure of Material Connection: I received this book free from the publisher. I was not required to write a positive review. The opinions I have expressed are my own. I am disclosing this in accordance with the Federal Trade Commission’s 16 CFR, Part 255: “Guides Concerning the Use of Endorsements and Testimonials in Advertising.”

College Crisis of Faith

Long-time readers of this blog know that I'm particularly interested in elements of doubt and faith, such as the dark night of the soul. I firmly believe these experiences actually help us develop, deepen, and strengthen our faith. But if we aren't told that they can do that, the experiences can be terrifying.

I've also said in various venues that I'm not liking the trend of discussions about college focusing on careers and profitability. That's not the purpose of most higher education, especially from the liberal arts tradition (which dominates almost all Amercian higher education systems, for the good, I believe). The purpose is really education. Learning about yourself and the world. The critical thinking skills and exposure to the amazing world definitely gives us excellent job skills, but this is quite different than a technical school, which has the purpose of giving you a set of specific skills to implement. The college experience is meant to be an experience that shapes our identities and worldviews, hopefully with the purpose of improving the world around us.

So Andrew Knapp's article on why he thinks it's a good thing for Christian college students to have a crisis of faith is spot on, I think. His points fit precisely within the philosophy of a liberal arts education and the core values of higher education. And we need to remember that it was usually Christians who supported this perspective. If we're confident in our faith, then we also shouldn't be afraid of our students having a crisis of faith.

When the Bottom Drops Out @PastorRobBugh @christianaudio

I had high hopes for Robert Bugh's When the Bottom Drops Out, which explores the challenges to life and spirituality when we face the deepest pains. Bugh's personal experiences definitely lend credibility to his encouragement to find faith in the darkest of circumstances. Unfortunately, the book can be frequently disjointed, moving between anecdotes, theologizing, and references stories of pain in the Bible.

Bugh's books shone brightly when he validated the emotional pain involved when the bottom of life drops out. However, just when the recognition of the reality of the situation was becoming strong, Bugh would switch to abstract theologizing. This would turn the book into more of a cognitive intervention to an emotional problem that served more to invalidate than help encourage.

The book was not bad, it just seemed like Bugh was trying too hard to provide a profound theology and reflection on the pain of life.

Disclosure of Material Connection: I received this book free from the publisher. I was not required to write a positive review. The opinions I have expressed are my own. I am disclosing this in accordance with the Federal Trade Commission’s 16 CFR, Part 255: “Guides Concerning the Use of Endorsements and Testimonials in Advertising.”

The Book I Wish I Wrote @TBBMediaGroup @audrajennings

Over the years, explicit doctrine, firm belief, and absolute proof from the Bible and science have become rather unimportant in my faith. In many ways, they provided the early foundation of my faith, with the experiential elements of faith being central now.

In Pressing Into Thin Places, Margaret Harrell Wills explores the powerful idea of being grounded in the knowledge of faith later being augmented by the powerful experience of thin places. The concept of thin places is rooted in Celtic Christianity, but has since expanded through many traditions. It explains a location or experience where the boundary between heaven and earth is virtually nonexistent, or thin. This idea fits very nicely within the incarnational tradition I so love.

Wills does a beautiful job demonstrating the power and diversity of thin place experiences. It helped me note how many such experiences I've had that I never recognized as such. She also explains how these experiences can help create and maintain hope through challenging, dark times of both faith and life. It's also helpful to see how we can encounter God in thin places even during dark nights.

The book is broken into nice, small sections that makes it an easy read casually, devotionally, or even intently. Ultimately, this is the book I wished I had written. It has helped reliven my heart and get me back in touch with core of my faith. I found it far easier to encounter God in this book than in any of the other Christian books I have read and reviewed lately.

Disclosure of Material Connection: I received this book free from the publisher. I was not required to write a positive review. The opinions I have expressed are my own. I am disclosing this in accordance with the Federal Trade Commission’s 16 CFR, Part 255: “Guides Concerning the Use of Endorsements and Testimonials in Advertising.”

St. John of the Cross Day

419 years ago today, St. John of the Cross, the author of The Dark Night of the Soul, died, making today his honorary holy day. If there were patron saints of blogs, I would consider St. John the patron saint of this blog, as his work is centrally influential to my spirituality and the purpose of this blog. So today, I honor St. John.

Trusting Neuroscience and the Soul @TyndaleHouse @AdamSab

Anatomy of the Soul by Curt Thompson, MD, a psychiatrist intrigued me as it lands squarely in the middle of the integration of modern mental health science and spirituality. This is the first book I received from the Tyndale Blog Network for review that particularly lands in my area of expertise (for those who don't know, I'm a licensed psychologist with an undergrad degree in Religious Studies).

What I appreciate about Thompson's work is that it addresses the neuroscientific findings related to relationships, including relationship with God. For those who have studied neuroscience or psychobiology, some of the material is clearly redundant, but I thought Thompson did a very nice job of summarizing the biology of the brain to help people understand the brain's basics. And then he did not simply relegate all of relationships and spirituality to random brain firing.

He acknowledges that there are biological correlates to spiritual experiences. And that does not bother him. I have not seen any satisfying texts that really engage both hard neuroscience and orthodox theology in such a way that Thompson has done. In fact, he has helped me reconcile information from both sides that often seem irreconcilable.

It's not that he really says anything new (after all, "there's nothing new under the sun" :) ), but he combines ideas and makes connections in ways I have not previously encountered. Such connections are the core of creativity and genius.

He does make some overstatements about the ability of techniques to quickly make changes to life. Or at least these are implied, like his subtitle: "Surprising connections between neuroscience and spiritual practices that can transform your life and relationships." Again, there is nothing new I saw in the book. Rather, it is more of analysis, connecting spiritual practices to biological changes in the brain, which lead to spiritual transformation, and such transformation leads one back to the beginning of more spiritual practices.

I have worked my way very slowly through the book because I wasn't simply willing to read it quickly and for a cursory review. Thompson has made some excellent arguments that will hopefully be the basis for some future blog posts. I may even use the tome in a class or two I may teach...

Again, the content itself is not particularly new; it's the connections. And Thompson engages in excellent process, not willing to ignore the struggles of ambiguity and Truth. In fact, one of the best quotes from his book is right at the beginning, p. 8-9: "When I know that I know something because I can logically prove it, I step away from trust. When I no longer trust, I am no longer open to being known, to relationship, to love." Such a struggle between logic and trust can be manifested in many spiritual and life struggles. It is important to land on the side of trust.

Spirituality of Cartoons @lacigrl @DonBluth

My wife is an animator. What a cool job, huh? Well, a couple of weeks ago, we went to an animation meet-and-greet with animation legend, Don Bluth. I don't know much about animation, but I know Bluth. He created my first favorite movie and character: An American Tail and Fievel, respectively. So I was actually quite excited to go! I have to say, it's weird seeing the person out of whose hands came Fievel. And then shaking that hand. Fievel is so cool, yet meeting Bluth brings it to a more human level.

Anyway, that's a tangent. Sort of. But another topic for another time.

One of the things Bluth said (Laci wrote a nice summary of the night of her blog, with a lovely picture of her and Bluth) is that hope is so important in film, particularly cartoons. He commented that that's part of the reasons animation (especially 2D) is failing--the films have become more cynical and sarcastic and lack any hope.

I think he's absolutely right. The morning of the event, I had some of the American Tail songs stuck in my head, and I was trying to figure out why I love that movie so much (yes, I have it on DVD, thank you very much).

His comment about hope answered that. The films I love the most are very hopeful. But not blind, idealistic hope. It's hope in the face of a lot of struggle, pain, and heartache. In some of my favorite cartoons, like American Tail, Lion King, Up, and Oliver & Co., things don't work out like people plan them to work out. In fact, things often go very, very wrong. Yet they end up finding joy, love, and hope, although that process is not always easy.

In many ways, the best animations show a sort of dark night of the soul. The characters experience a time when hope seems to be lost. They suffer. And yet they rise again. Life keeps going. Hope springs eternal.

This is an important theme to remember. We often forget it even in our daily, explicitly spiritual lives. Most of our "cool" movies don't address it or help this out at all. Yet the cartoons of our childhoods do. Maybe we need to remember that...

Consider Ignoring Why Is God Ignoring Me?

My most recent review for the Tyndale Blog Network is Gary Habermas' Why is God Ignoring Me?: What To Do When It Feels Like He's Giving You the Silent Treatment. Tyndale House Publishers provided me a complimentary copy of the book to review.

With the focus of this blog on doubt and struggles, this is one of the most relevant reviews. When I saw the title and description, I jumped at the chance to review it, very excited with what I saw. I was hoping it would be a great resource to send people to when they are struggling or experiencing a dark night of the soul.

The description stated the book "gives us the freedom to ask our tough questions... and the wisdom to find the answers." This is the kind of thing I live on and love promoting. In the introduction, Habermas states that "what we tell ourselves is of utmost importance in terms of how we 'feel' about God's seeming silence" (p. xiii). I completely agree with that, as our anxiety about doubt often causes the problems. This anxiety prevents us from asking the tough questions, but rather let them sit and fester.

The problem is that the introduction is where the book stops being helpful. It transitions from a book that really could help people sit with the discomfort of experiencing silence from God into a book that truly fulfills the subtitle "what to do when it feels like He's giving you the silent treatment."

Habermas' proposition is that God does not give people the "silent treatment," but rather it is people's perceptions of God and his actions that make it appear like God is silent. While I agree that is often the case, this completely disregards authentic times that God may not be overtly speaking to us, specifically as in a dark night of the soul, in which God tends to be more passive.

Framing this experience as solely due to the individual's error not only invalidates the person's experience, but can make it worse. Therefore, I would not recommend this tome to anyone experiencing a dark night. The closest Habermas gets to describing a God-initiated silence is stating, "God's silence could also be a reprimand or time-out response" (p. 130). This can be true, but still puts blame on the individual in a negative way that is not congruent with a dark night.

Besides the poor framing of the book, the content overall is relatively good. It's just too focused on giving answers rather than really asking questions and struggling with the answers. I completely agree that we often expect God to work in ways that he does not always work. Habermas describes an Incarnational perspective very well, which I appreciate. He also talks about how our past, emotions, and thoughts can cloud our ability to see God at work. That's totally true. This book can be useful for people in those circumstances.

I had a couple of significant frustrations with some of the content, though:

Habermas frequently refers to unanswered prayers. While the Garth Brooks song Unanswered Prayers is one of my favorite songs, it is also one of the songs that annoys me the most. I think the concept of a prayer being unanswered is complete baloney. Yes, that is my theological perspective, but still. The way the term is often used is for prayers that are not answered the way we want them answered. That does not mean there is no answer. It's just a no. Or not yet. That's an answer. Framing it as unanswered leads to more problems than the convenience of using a simple phrase.

Habermas has an entire chapter entitled "What Do You Tell Yourself" that falls squarely in my area of expertise of the cross-roads of psychology and spirituality. His point in this chapter is that at times, "many of your problems have very little to do with God" (p. 108). Again, I agree with this statement. However, I dislike how he handles it.

He basically takes a cognitive therapy perspective about challenging false beliefs. Fair enough. I do that a lot in my blog. However, Habermas puts the whole problem and solution in our thinking. I disagree with this from a psychotherapy perspective and definitely from a spiritual perspective. While our thoughts definitely can cause problems, other elements of our psyche can, too.

He even moves into poor exegesis when he says, "the Bible tells you that you are free not to feel anger, not to hate, and not to return to others what they have given you" (p. 110). While transformation through Christ may make these things more likely, the one I do have major issue with is the freedom from anger. Anger is not bad. God gets angry. We should get angry at times.

In fact, Habermas takes such a strictly cognitive approach that he discounts feelings completely. He cites C.S. Lewis and asserts that "we must tell our emotions to take a hike" (p. 113). This is one of the statements for which I have the least tolerance. While our emotions can cause problems, they are also a blessing. The American church and the American people would do well to pay more attention to their honest and authentic emotions. If we did that, we may actually experience God more and perceive less silence.