Let’s Stop Bullying (Attention Adults!)

This is my latest column in the Greenville News.  Bullying is at its worse, but most acceptable, when adults use it to intimidate people who disagree with them.

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http://www.greenvilleonline.com/story/opinion/contributors/2016/10/09/lets-stop-bullying/91666120/

Let’s Stop Bullying

I well remember being bullied on the school bus. Many cold, wet mornings (a large portion of the year in WV, by the way) I found my junior-high self sitting in front of high school juniors and seniors who turned their class rings upside down, then used them to hit lesser life forms on the top of the head in a whipping motion. Turning around in pain and anger, trying to find my assailant, was pointless. ‘What are you looking at?’ they asked. It was a very long ride to school.
To this day, kids are still assaulted and treated badly by other kids. Children and adolescents are called cruel names and belittled by those who have more things or more opportunities. They’re told that if only they’ll wear these clothes, or listen to that music, engage in some sexual act or take that drug, they’ll be accepted. Bullying comes in many forms, it seems. And now we have the added joy of the Internet. No small number of young people have been mortified, emotionally traumatized, considered suicide or actually committed it in response to online slurs and cruelty, or embarrassing photos or video posted online.
These days, adults are supposed to understand, and teach their kids, that no one should be mistreated, harassed, harangued, belittled or besmirched in our hallowed school hallways for any reason at all. But something happens after we leave school. Suddenly, adults believe that bullying is OK as long as it’s about something that’s really, really important, and as long as the people they bully are different from themselves. It seems that in actuality, adults are the worst bullies around.
These days, in order to find bullying one need look no further than any discussion about politics (or frankly, culture, religion, science or almost anything else). I’m simply stunned at the way purported grown-ups with differing opinions can treat one another. Online forums and media comment sections drip with disdain. Those who believe ‘the wrong way’ are instantly labeled ignorant, or irrelevant, and often called names. Sometimes, people even wish death upon others.
In fact, that’s one of the clearest forms of adult bullying I see. ‘Well, if you weren’t so ignorant, you’d understand the truth.’ Even those with no particular knowledge of a topic consider those who disagree to be stupid, plain and simple; it’s a strange kind of ‘pseudo-intellectualism,’ in which the enlightened get to wear the mantle of truth. A truth largely determined by the crowd; not surprising in an era when truth is considered a personal choice like food on a buffet.
This sort of argument is everywhere. And not just in the Wild West of the Internet. Even noted political figures accuse their detractors, saying that they’re uneducated and backward or they’d see the truth.
Adults love to bully, no matter how much they pretend to hate the idea. We see it in its soft form in the recent video of celebrities reminding everyone else not only to vote, but who to vote for. They’re the cool kids. They may not be the smartest but they’re the richest and best; they’re sexy and sarcastic. Don’t you want to be like them? Remember, beautiful, rich, famous people are much better (and insightful) than regular poor people!
Comedians once entertained us with the universal, self-deprecating, slap-stick humor of everyday life. Now they, too, are the cool kids yelling their invective at everyone who dares to have an opinion off the mainstream. Biting and cruel towards those they don’t understand, they represent little more than a shinier, richer form of the old-school bully.
Bullies use words to great effect. Disagree with a candidate? You must be a racist, or a sexist. Disagree with a law? You must be a bigot or a fascist. Believe your God is real? You must be a fundamentalist nut! You don’t want to be a bigot or fascist or a nut, do you? Then just do like everyone else does and you’ll be so cool! There, now doesn’t it feel better to be like the crowd? (Now remember kids, you should always be yourself and follow your own heart. Until it takes you outside the bleating herd, that is.)
Robust dialogue is good for a nation. As in evolution, ideas diverge and produce more good ideas. The future of our freedom demands that we disagree. But bullying is the stuff of brutish children.
So let’s stop it, shall we?

Driving Country Roads to the ER

These days, I work most of my shifts about 45 minutes from my ‘house on the hill.’ At one of those jobs, the day shift starts at 06:30. Which means I’m rising from my bed at 04:30 in order to get on the road in time. I’ve started waking up at four, spontaneously, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

I lay out my clothes the night before, so as not to awake my darling wife in her sleep. Sometimes I am able slip out without her knowledge. Others she wakes to kiss me goodbye. Then I go downstairs and put together some lunch, get the backpack and make my way out the door. I know that my wife and children are safe upstairs, as I lock the door behind me.

The door creeks a little, or did until my son Elijah oiled it. (One always wonders why a teenage boy oils a front door…) Occasionally I lock it as I realize I left my keys inside, and poor, tired Jan opens the door for me patiently. On the front porch, by the soft yellow of porch-light or the shock of flashlight, I step over dogs freshly awakened from sleep, who look at me with gentle annoyance. The sharp-eyed cats sleep in more secret places, so are seldom seen in the morning. Other dogs (we have five), sleep on the gravel drive in the summer and seem confused as to how to react when my Tundra rolls towards them, slowly, and I roll down the window. ‘Get up, you silly dog!’ Heads and tails down they amble away.

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Up the long drive and down the road, I am suddenly all but alone on the two lane roads that lead me to Tiny Memorial Hospital. Despite the early hour, I am ‘awake, alert and oriented.’ The sky is dark, and in winter stars shine down when clouds don’t lay low against the earth. I scan the roadside for deer, their eyes reflecting the truck’s headlamps. Opossums sometimes shuffle across, along with squirrels and rabbits. (One day I saw a big, black bear on a hill by the road. He ran away as I stopped for a photo.)
I drive through forests, past sleeping houses and across a dark, still lake where sometimes, the light from a bass-boat shines across the emptiness where someone has fished all night…or started very early. Or a campfire on the shore still burns as their line rests untroubled in the water.

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It is so early that I drive past gas-stations and convenience stores still dark and locked, the ‘closed’ sign reminding me to keep on moving. The air, even in summer, is cooler and in winter, positively cold. Winter is my favorite, I think, with the heat of the truck turned out, and the chill wind blowing past.

I think as I drive. And I pray. And I listen to the news, a recorded sermon, a pod-cast. Many mornings I turn on an oldies station from the North Carolina mountains; in the loneliness of the drive the music of Sinatra, Johnny Cash and others, make me feel I’ve gone back in time.

I cannot talk on the phone (hands free or otherwise). I pass through places where cell-signals are only a dream, and often even radio reception is poor. Remote areas, mountainous places, lonely and beautiful places defy cell signals and seem to say ‘look around! What else do you need!’ Even at 5 am, I agree.
Eventually I am near, and I find a fast-food joint for the obligatory chicken biscuit and tea, because, well, the South and all. And then I roll into the ER parking lot, lock things up and head to work.
Because this is no urban trauma center, the early morning is sometimes very slow and relaxed. A few patients may be waiting for turnover, but often none. I can sit and think, I can ask about the previous night. I can ease into work. My drive has already prepared me, but it’s nice to have a few minutes peace in the department before the chaos of the day begins. I text Jan. ‘Here safe, love you,’ and she answers. ‘Love you back, have a great day.’
There are those who don’t have to drive long distances. For most of my career it was about 15 minutes to work. And there are those who have long commutes through traffic, and through the waking body of a large city, people and cars just starting to fill its veins and arteries. Sometimes I am jealous. It can be lonely where I am.
But I think I’ll keep it for now. There is a solemnity, a serenity to my mountain and lake commute, with animals heading to bed and people not yet rising, with my own thoughts and prayers to myself.

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And I suppose that if there were a better way to prepare for the madness, badness and sadness of the ER, I don’t know what it is.

We All Have to Face Evil

Dear reader, 

This is my column in today’s Greenville News.  I wasn’t sure if it was the right column for this week, but I’d been thinking about it for a while.  Ironically, I really lost track of the date and wasn’t thinking about the anniversary of the 9-11 attacks.  But maybe it was appropriate as we consider what evils were inflicted that day.  Anyway, here it is.  May God deliver you and yours from temptation and evil.

http://www.greenvilleonline.com/story/opinion/readers/2016/09/11/commentary-we-all-have-face-evil/90004264/

‘And lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil.’ So goes the last sentence of the Lord’s Prayer. (Well, unless you count the later addition, ‘For thine is the Kingdom and the Power and the Glory, forever and ever, amen.’)
The more I think about it as I get older, the more important the ideas of temptation and evil seem. As a husband, as a father, as a physician, I am fully convinced of the moral and spiritual dangers of this world. And yet, those words,’temptation’ and ‘evil’ fall on skeptical ears in a modern, scientific world. Do we believe in such a thing as temptation? Do we believe in evil? And how do we learn about these things in a time when virtue itself seems all too relative? And are they really relative as we search everywhere for virtuous leaders?
The word ‘temptation’ is dismissed as laughable. Rather than seeing it as a thing to be resisted, an assault on our character, a fork in the road of life, (or worst of all, the actions of Temptation should be embraced, as it invariably leads to fun and to liberty.
And ‘evil’ is even worse. Evil is only evil in the eye of those condemning it. One man’s junk is another man’s treasure; one man’s terrorist is another man’s freedom fighter. One man’s campaign contribution is another man’s bribe. Evil is passe’. It’s a yawn, a hoax passed down from an irrelevant church through silly preachers and uptight believers. Evil isn’t a thing for modern, educated people. Right?
Personally, I hold with the stark reality of temptation and evil. Reflecting on my own life I realize that I have experienced any number of temptations. Some of which I regrettably embraced.
Media and popular culture, being the principal moral guide-posts of generations, teach us that it’s funny to laugh about temptation, especially when it occurs in youth, and relates to sex, drugs and alcohol. But it quickly turns serious when we realize that temptation also eads people to use ever more powerful, ever more addictive and lethal drugs. Temptation leads men and women to cheat on their spouses, abuse children, embezzle, lie, engage in shady business deals, abuse public office, commit acts of terror, oppress, torment, rape or murder. It causes coups and wars, genocides and crushing poverty, loneliness, broken homes, broken hearts.
It’s common to suggest that such activities are merely the result of mental illness or caused by the frustrations of poverty or oppression. While sometimes true, the news doesn’t bear that out. Many very sane, very capable, very educated and financially sound people fall prey to temptation, a thing which ruins their own lives and those of others.Temptation, then, is the trail-head down evil paths. Evil, that old church bugaboo, that joke perpetuated on children, by ignorant religious folks, in order to manipulate them! But we all, every man, woman and child, believe fully in evil. We just have different words for it. We may disagree about the source. Is it something spiritual? Is it mental, financial or social? But without doubt, we know that there are dangerous forces and wrong things in the world.
Even the most convinced and brilliant atheist (and there are many) will reasonably condemn certain actions and applaud others. We use words like ‘unfair.’ We say we ‘ought to’ or ‘ought not to’ do certain things. We believe ‘that’s just wrong’ about a host of behaviors. Slavery? Bad. Murder? Bad. Greed? Bad. Human trafficking? Bad. Environmental destruction? Bad. Intolerance? Oppression? Tyranny? Hatred? Abuse of political power? Bad, bad, bad. And, to those of us with a more theistic inclination, evil.
And yet we live out a strange duality, in which we reject the idea of temptation’s perils and the reality of evil, even as we want to see virtue blossom. We find ourselves surrounded by crime, war, racism and sexism. We rail against big business, misleading ministers and lying politicians. We desire that our leaders be ‘good’ and ‘just’ even as we vacillate over virtue for ourselves, and can’t help laughing at things like ‘temptation’ and ‘evil.’
We may have to find different words to speak a common language here. But suffice it to say, I still pray that God will lead me not into temptation, and will deliver me from evil. And all those I love. For in a dangerous world, temptation and evil are real. And I’m just too weak to face it alone.

Back to School Blues for a Former Homeschool Family

Lately I’ve seen a lot of photos on the Internet of parents cheering and jumping for joy as their kids were packed off to start a new school year. Mom is giddy and the kids sour-faced as summer comes to an abrupt, but long-expected, halt.  Sure, they’re staged but the message comes through.

http://www.today.com/parents/moms-celebratory-back-school-dance-goes-viral-8C11041602

http://www.fox13news.com/trending/187237945-story

I used to hear parents say the same.  ‘Man, I can’t wait for school to start!  I have to get these kids out of the house and get things back to normal!’  I found it interesting.  I mean, I get it.  Kids, all kids, are loud and messy; grumpy and dirty, sometimes sick, always eating or sleeping.  But then again, they’re kids.  They can be equally funny, happy, joyous, entertaining, sweet, kind and helpful.  On the balance the good far outweighs the bad.

The way I see it, we signed on for it.  OK, maybe it was a romantic date and a glass of wine, but one way or the other, we brought them into this world and they are delights.  Not only so, they are the future.  The future of our families, our very DNA.  And they are certainly the future of our nation, our civilization, our various faiths or ideologies.

Perhaps I’m coming from a different perspective.  By way of full disclosure, we spent a lot of years home-schooling.    Some years, school was all year long, even if in lower doses. (Latin or geography in the pool, etc.)  But one reason we did it was that we knew our time with the children was ultimately short, and we wanted to make the most of all of it.  And we did, whether having class at home or visiting National Parks, every bit was a delight.

Fast forward.  One went to college, then another. And our youngest two are in public high school, a sophomore and a senior.  Mornings are no longer times of lavish breakfasts and learning/laughter around the table.  The clock is ticking, the bells waiting to ring.  The school year is not open for our exploration and delight; it is determined by the state and woe-betide anyone who runs afoul of the sanctum sanctorum of the 180 days of learning!  (Even if the last twenty or so are often spent doing remarkably little.)  Our lives belong to the state, in a sense.  Our trips can only happen when others take trips because everyone is on break together; on the approved break.

Our dining room, formerly known as class-room, is lined and packed with books and notebooks.  With old science kits and well-worn texts, as well as novels highlighted and annotated.  There are files with test papers kept for records or nostalgia.  The desktop computer once shared by four kids is sleeping; as it has for probably a full year or more.  The kids have moved on to their personal lap-tops. Perhaps the desktop dreams of those days gone by.

There are living remnants.  Our youngest still do homework under the bright lights of the dining room.  They still work on that expansive table which once housed our own kids and visiting co-op homeschool students, who were taught Latin by my well-organized and gentle bride.  (The same worn table where many holiday meals have been shared.)

Backpacks still lie about, and the two who remain at home still laugh when they aren’t stressed over AP exams or some other crisis.  We still go through food; and the older two visit and leave their mess, their empty soda cans, their laundry.

It’s still sweet.  But it changes every year.  As it should, I suppose.  But having watched the transitions, having seen our school house population shift and dwindle, I can tell you that every year when the kids go to school I am anything but joyous. I am broken and sad.  My playmates leave; as if I were the pre-school sibling, wishing I could go along, nose pressed to the window, counting the hours until their return.

 

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I walk around the yard, looking for them; for echoes, foot-prints, fleeting memories of summer delights.  In the house I sometimes walk past empty rooms; but seldom look inside at first.  It makes me miss them more.

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Every year I reflect; did I do it right?  Have we prepared them?  Did we miss something?  How could I have used the time better?

Yes, I know. It’s probably pathological.  But my point is merely that when the kids leave, Jan and I don’t celebrate.  Oh, we celebrate their growth and learning.  But we mourn just a bit every time.

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Sure, most of the photos and videos are just jokes.  Everybody, I think, misses their kids at least a little when school starts back.  But I wonder if any parent, jumping for joy as the bus pulls away, considers the chiral image of the scenario.  Will there be a day when you visit the adult kids, and as you leave they cheer? They post photos:  ‘mom and dad finally left!  We’re all so happy to get things back to normal!’  Maybe.  Kids remember.  And they know when they’re wanted, and when they aren’t.

Enjoy every minute. Celebrate the good times, the successes and joys.  Remember the hard ones.  But maybe, just maybe, it’s best not to cheer when the kids go away.  Because they’ll really go away, and go their separate ways, before you can play ‘Celebrate’ and dance your heart out.

And I suspect that if they feel welcome, it’s more likely they’ll come back to visit in years to come.

 

 

Watch for signs of depression in your teen.

This is my latest column in the SC Baptist Courier.  Teens are wonderful!  But that transition from childhood to adulthood can be so hard on them.  Please remember that they can be afflicted by depression, and watch yours carefully. And their friends!  Text follows link.

 

Wholly Healthy: Watch for signs of depression in your teen

It’s August, and that means that school is starting. Middle school and high school, in particular, are times of significant emotional challenges. Not only are students adapting to physical changes and emotional growth and maturity, the fact is that depression is a big problem for young people. In 2012, according to government statistics

http://www.childstats.gov/americaschildren/health4.asp, 11% of kids between ages of 12 and 17 had at least one major depressive episode. These episodes increase their risk of suicide and drug abuse.
All parents know that raising adolescents is a challenge. The complexities of adolescent culture are compounded by their even more complex brain chemistry. In the end it can be very difficult to sort through which behavioral changes are normal and which are pathologic and dangerous.
Because of this, it’s very important to educate yourself, and talk to your kids. And talk. And talk. If you think you’re being intrusive or invasive, that’s not necessarily bad. (In general, they want your attention more than they admit.) Young people will frequently say ‘everything is fine,’ when everything is far from fine and they are feeling sadness and despair.
It’s important to spend a lot of time with the kids. And while you do, to watch for signs of depression, like withdrawal from friends and family, loss of enjoyment of normal activities, expressions of guilt or worthlessness and increasing emotional outbursts. Be attentive to increased physical complaints such as fatigue and loss of appetite. This list just scratches the surface, so I’ve attached a link with more details. http://www.mayoclinic.org/diseases-conditions/teen-depression/symptoms-causes/dxc-20164556
Furthermore, as you talk to your kids, don’t be afraid (or ashamed) to snoop. Know what they’re doing, where they are going and who their friends are. Ask who they are texting, what they’re reading, and what they’re thinking about. And don’t accept ‘oh, nothing’ as an answer. They are always thinking about something.
And since most of them seem permanently attached to a telephone, snoop there as well. There are ways to track their phones and to follow the websites they visit and the texts they send and receive. And you can simply tell them that you want access to their passwords. Odds are you’re paying for the thing anyway. This isn’t to be mean, but to be diligent. The texts and searches on their phones can be clues to their emotional struggles and also to dangers or cries for help.
Remember that even kids with loving, attentive families can spiral into dangerous depression. Don’t forget that Christians have brains and depression is a real disease of the brain, not a moral or spiritual failure. So never be afraid to discuss it with the kids, admit that it’s real and seek counseling and medication as indicated.
Your efforts might just be life-saving.

Never Stop Discovering Your Spouse

Elysa photos 007

This is my most recent Greenville News column.  Inspired, of course, by my amazing wife Jan.  All my love baby!

http://www.greenvilleonline.com/story/opinion/contributors/2016/06/05/ed-leap-never-stop-discovering-your-spouse/85286660/

June is here, and while it certainly isn’t the only month for weddings, it is a popular one. This month, many young men will have a brand new thing called a wife, and many young women a thing called a husband. Both are perplexing, and both are wonderful. As such, I have some insight to share.
Gentlemen, what you have before you after the vows are said and rings exchanged, is a woman of your very own. She has been thinking about this her whole life. In fact, she has been unconsciously (and consciously) evaluating men as husband material since she first realized that there were boys in the world other than her father and brothers. She chose you. (Don’t question it, just be glad…she knows you’re imperfect, trust me.) And what she wants is your love and devotion. She wants you to stand by her and be faithful. She needs to know you won’t run away when things get tough. She needs to know that you still think she’s amazing when her life is a hot mess and her hair won’t do anything right and she just cries for no reason. She does not expect you to figure it out or fix it, as much as you want to do that.
The great wonder is that she just wants you (you among all other men on earth!) to share life with her, hold her, protect her and get old with her. She could have had people better looking, smarter, stronger or richer and every smart husband realizes this. She wanted you to share her mind, heart and body. She probably wants to have your baby. (It’s a compliment of the highest order.) Something about you drew her in to your orbit. Observe this advice, honor her dreams, speak kindly and treat her gently, love her lavishly and you will never in this life find an ally more true or comfort more wondrous.
This beautiful thing before you is yours; and she should be your favorite hobby, best friend, greatest confidant. She will give all of that back and more. But remember what the Little Prince said: ‘You are responsible forever for what you have tamed.’
Ladies? What you have is a man, also of your very own. As a young man, he didn’t probably didn’t think about weddings or marriage as much as you did. But deep inside, he wanted it. He wanted a woman to care for. Good men like caring for things; we protect, we defend, we provide. It’s our wiring. On some level, even as you wove your spell he ‘hunted and gathered’ you. In a hilarious expression of the whole process, ‘he chased you till you caught him,’ as my wife used to say. He is sometimes slow to understand things natural to you. Like feelings. He is sometimes uncomfortable with lengthy discussions of emotions. He is fascinated by your feminine ways, tears, declarations of love and complicated rituals. He struggles with bra-straps and is confused by make-up, skin products and your many shoes. But in all his simplicity, he is far more complex than your friends (or society) lets you believe. He is in awe of you and if you are kind to him, encourage and respect him, he will do anything you ask just to make you happy.
He needs a little space sometimes. And honest to goodness, there are times when he says ‘I’m not thinking about anything,’ and is telling the absolute truth. We men go to that place sometimes, even though your multi-tasking brains can’t fathom it. Let the man have it now and then. Just a little down-time. He’ll be back.
Your husband, properly treated, will love you and the children with a devotion that comes fairly close to worship. And when he says ‘you’re beautiful,’ don’t tell him no, don’t deny it. He really believes it because you are his, and he’s amazed that you agreed to marry him in the first place.
Husbands and wives, his whole process is an incredible mystery. Two people, two complex creatures, with dreams, hopes, wounds, bad habits and all the rest come together and make, as the Bible says, ‘one flesh.’ Two humans who barely know themselves choose to know another and love them for life.
As you pass through the portal of the wedding into the new life called marriage, may you never stop discovering the unfolding, life-long wonder that is your spouse.

After Graduation, Love the Kids. Just Don’t Worship Them

Sam and Tyler K5 graduationhttp://www.greenvilleonline.com/story/opinion/contributors/2016/05/22/ed-leap-after-graduation-love-your-kids/84556782/

Graduation is upon us once more. All across the area high, schools, trade schools and colleges are releasing their eager, bright eyed students into the the next phase of their lives. My wife and I have graduated several times, and have graduated two sons. It’s an emotional, beautiful time when Pomp and Circumstance turns moms into weeping messes of mascara and tissue, and dads into great, red-eyed lumps who choke back tears and say muffled things like ‘I…I’m fo prd ov you. I lvvv you,’ sniff, sniff.

The kids are emotional but boy, are they ready. They toss those hats into the air (as parents try to grab them as keepsakes) and they head off to jobs, or to parties or sometimes to pre-loaded cars headed off for the beach. Some go to their own weddings and some go to basic training, or their first overseas deployment with the armed forces. Big stuff all around.
But as I thought about the whole process I realized that one of the great dangers of a successful society (and by any measure of the world at large or history ours qualifies), is that we are capable of investing all of our worth as parents into the activities and successes of our offspring who are now springing off on their own.

As such, we forget something very fundamental. Once the kids grow up, they can largely do what they want. Just like most of us did. But what does that mean exactly?

Well, first of all those graduates with all of their dreams, like ’I want to do forensics,’ ‘I want to be a marine biologist,’ ‘I want to be attorney general,’ etc. may or may not do those things. Their dreams are useful guiding stars at first, but most of them will change course for a variety of reasons. Thus, I am not a full-time magazine journalist as I originally intended. Nor an Air Force navigator…probably good given my tendency to get lost.

We love to brag about what our kids will do. I certainly do. They are hints of the future, and sometimes we believe their successes will somehow atone for our own shortcomings, our own failed dreams. But it’s important to step back on occasion and realize that the future may look very different from what they, and I, and all of us, think it will be for them.

Second, they may decide that the educational path we hoped for them to follow isn’t right. These days, many college majors are a poor economic bet compared to heating and air or welding. My professional friends in medicine and law are particularly stricken by this. When one says to another, ‘Tim dropped out of USC. He’s decided he wants to be a contractor,’ there’s an almost palpable tension and a pat on the shoulder. ‘Well, he may go back to school later.’ Or he may be a wildly successful contractor. Or he may just like building things more than thinking about things that don’t interest him. Who knew?

Third, they will love and marry people we didn’t expect. Just like we did. We can have all kinds of plans for betrothal and hopes that they’ll find this girl or that guy. But in the end, as Pascal said, ’the heart has reasons of which reason knows not.’

And now the hardest, dear weeping parents, and many of you know this. They will make their own mistakes. They will lose jobs and ruin relationships. They will set themselves back. They will violate, sometimes, the law of man and often the law of God. This is called being human. For Christians, it’s tough realizing your kid is a sinner too. (In the secular, world, the equivalent might be realizing your liberal family raised a Republican and you have to love them anyway. Cheer up! Prodigals do return!)
Allow me to review: the kids will study what they want, work at what they want, love whomever they want and make big mistakes. The best we can do is show the grace and love throughout all of it.

But to love them well, we have to take them off the altar. Our worth as humans cannot be wrapped up in our children. That’s a terrifying and overwhelming idolatry and it holds them to far too high a standard.

So as they get those certificates and diplomas, remember they’re humans. Hope and fear, success and struggle in dynamic tension.

And love them.

 

Show some patience in the bathroom debate

d87e8246a18b0a04b40041956e38707fhttp://www.greenvilleonline.com/story/opinion/contributors/2016/05/08/ed-leap-show-patience-bathroom-debate/83918244/

 

I have to admit, I never thought that we’d be arguing about who to allow into which restroom. And yet, men and women who identify as other genders feel oppressed that everyone isn’t flinging open the stall doors to welcome them as bathroom-mates. And those (like me) who view it all with a little suspicion are considered worse than troglodytes for failing to keep up with modern progress and diversity.
Let me say from the outset that I am believe, absolutely, there are people who have issues with gender. There are those who are born with indeterminate genitalia, some with chromosomal issues or abnormalities of the endocrine system, and still others with psychological factors which make gender assignment or identity confusing.
However, that reality doesn’t obviate other concerns. Humans have been cautious about sexual predation for a very long time. In particular, but not exclusively, we’ve been suspicious about the motives of men towards vulnerable women and children. Maybe we have some deep ancestral fear of rape and abduction by invaders or raiders. (A thing well known to our forbears within about 200 years.) Isn’t it possible, therefore, that our heightened concern about this issue is not about hatred or intolerance, but represents a well honed biological instinct? That perhaps it is part of some evolutionary, survival-based instinct to protect those who are more susceptible to predation?
This may be why so many of us don’t like the idea of letting just anyone use just any restroom, changing room or locker room. These are often isolated places that typically have no back door for escape. It seems peculiar to me that while we are endlessly cautioned that college women have a one in five chance of being sexually assaulted while in university, we are mocked for having concern about opposite sex strangers in public restrooms. While it turns out the data on college rape isn’t nearly as bleak, the general concern about sexual assault is very real and reasonable.
Even if most transgender persons out there aren’t a particular threat, couldn’t it be that our concern over men lying about their gender identity, to gain access to vulnerable women or children, might be well-placed? And by the way, women are fully capable of sexual assault as well; a quick search for ‘teacher sexual assault’ will reveal a significant number of instances in which a female teacher sexually abused a student in her charge. Equality of opportunity also means equality of suspicion, you see.
Further, we keep hearing that transgender people aren’t pedophiles. Indeed, most probably aren’t. (I like to assume the best.) But neither are most men or women. And yet, most of us recognize the wisdom that a man alone shouldn’t chaperone a camping trip of adolescent girl-scouts, or be ‘house father’ to a sorority. And ask your female friends and family if they want male chaperones for their pap-smears, or if they prefer a female. And a lone young woman might not make the best choice to guide high school boys on a long field trip involving a hotel stay. These things make sense, if only to avoid the appearance of impropriety.
In addition, it is the height of politically correct folly to assume that because one has ‘transcended’ traditional sexual roles or genetic gender that they are, by default, above reproach and incapable of evil. In fact, it is demeaning to assert this. To be accepted as part of the greater collective of society is to be seen as human, not ‘super human.’ This means one is respected, seen as valuable, but also subject to the same laws and cautions as everyone else. Ultimately, since the fairly recent mainstreaming of transgenderism, I doubt if we have enough experience or data to make definitive statements about whether or not the transgendered have any increased or decreased risk of predatory behavior. I do think we can safely assume that those who would pose as transgendered are clearly dangerous, and for most of us I believe that’s the greater fear.
So why don’t we all show some respect for one another and some patience in the face of both titanic cultural shifts and time-honored mores. Then we might come to a reasonable common ground that respects differences and protects all the vulnerable.
Or to use more a more contemporary idea, maybe both sides of the issue deserve some tolerance.

I don’t think that’s too much to ask.

Do you?

Church helps bring us together

My column in today’s Greenville News.  You don’t have to be a believer to see that, for all its flaws, the church has had, and continues to have, great benefit for those who attend.  And to the extent that it unites rather than divides, benefits for society at large.

http://www.greenvilleonline.com/story/opinion/contributors/2016/03/12/church-helps-bring-us-together/81575156/

By way of full disclosure, I’m a preacher’s kid. So, when I write about all of the benefits that accrue from church attendance, I’m speaking from both experience and from a slight bias. But before anyone gets angry and accuses me of all the standard Christian ‘crimes against humanity’ (shoving religion down your throat, intolerance, wanting a theocracy, hating people who are different, being ‘judgmental,’ being a right wing extremist, etc.), let me say that I’m going to talk about the benefits of church without getting into theology at all. That’s right. I’ll try not to even invoke the names of the particular deity that I worship. (I’ll save that for Easter Sunday.)
When I grew up, given that my father was a pastor, church was just what we did. Sunday morning church attendance wasn’t a negotiable (although other services were as I grew older). We got up, mom made breakfast, dad matched ties, polished his shoes and went over his sermon. Then we piled into the car and went to whichever church he was leading at the time. (We were semi-migratory United Methodists.)
In church, we children were herded into Sunday School classes where we were taught and mentored by kind men and women who knew us and our families. From them we learned the stories of our faith, many of which are idiomatic to Western culture at large. And we made dear friends. Some of them are still my friends decades later.
After Sunday School we went to the main church service. There we learned the value of decorum, respect and reverence. We witnessed and participated in the ancient traditions that our fellow believers have followed for two thousand years, and which help anchor believers in difficult times.
In the summer we had Vacation Bible School, that classic church activity held (now as then) in what was surely the hottest, muggiest time of the year, during which we did crafts, heard stories, sang songs, played dodge-ball in the basement and drank our total individual fluid volume in grape Kool-Aid,. We were nourished by sugar cookies and potato chips.
We later dated people we went to church with, although it turns out you aren’t allowed to make out with your girlfriend during church services. (A friend of mine discovered this in a fairly unpleasant manner). We went to camp and on other summer adventures with our friends. And we became adults together, moving slowly out of youth groups into adult classes and adult behavior.
We also learned music. Although these are days of microphones, amplifiers and Power-Point in church (nothing wrong with that), we not only sang in youth choirs and later with adults, we learned to read music and follow along. We appreciated melody and harmony. We read the beautiful lyrics written by great church composers, poetry filled with depth, wonder and hope. Those works are etched deeply in my memory. Many of those beautiful songs are lost to recent generations. It’s a pity. Even Christopher Hitchens, noted and brilliant atheist, suggested the value of reading the King James Bible. I feel the same way about great hymns.
In church, from childhood on, we saw sad, hurt people come to the altar to confess or lay out their troubles. There, friends and family surrounded them in love, in shared tears, touched them with compassion and prayed by their sides. It’s hard to witness that sort of fellowship and not learn to feel sorrow for the struggles of others.
We watched baptisms and took communion (and snuck extra communion wafers), even when we were still learning to fully understand their meaning. These became bits of our identities.
As time passed we enjoyed the delight of weddings. We also went to funerals. We learned with clarity that a group of people who spend so much time knowing and loving one another have to pass through both joy and the sorrow with them. And that death can be celebrated as surely as grieved.
I understand that many people take issue with Christianity. But church gave me great gifts: a community of fellow believers, meeting in love and sharing values and stories that were both culture foundations and individually inspiring. I continue to enjoy that every week.
And in these times of dissension, alienation and isolation, when the only thing we have in common seems to be division, I think we could use a little more church.

We should value each other more than politics

http://www.greenvilleonline.com/story/opinion/contributors/2016/02/26/value-each-other-more-than-politics/80922306/

Allow me to spin tangentially off of politics for a bit, if you don’t mind. (I promise to bring it back around.) After all, I suspect even the most passionate political advocate would welcome some news coverage of an alien invasion or a cat that speaks French, or anything just to take our minds off of the endless drone of political conversation. I feel like Bill Murray’s character, Phil Connors, in the classic movie, Groundhog Day. ‘There’s no way… this winter (or election)…is ever going to end.’
Instead, I want to talk about perspective. Many readers and friends will recall that five short years ago my wife Jan had a metastatic throat cancer. She endured some pretty miserable radiation and chemotherapy. After that she had a large pulmonary embolus (blood clot in the lung) which put her into intensive care and scared us all.
Over time she recuperated fully and our family went back to life as before, but with some incredible perspectives on the value of life, love, health and the inevitable passage of time. She recently had her last oncology visit and was released. Like a cat tip-toeing on wet grass, the years crept up on us and the thing we hoped and prayed for arrived at last, with less fanfare and perhaps more joy than ever. This year we celebrate her 13th birthday, on February 29th, seeing her as the treasure she is.
The great insight here is that all of our battles, won or lost, illustrate an often neglected fact. Which is that however much we may care about elections or economies or all the rest, the real joy and pain of life circles around that person, or those persons, we love the very most. And anything that makes life better for them, or us, probably won’t come from any elected official of any party but will mostly be the fruit of individual effort (and insight) motivated by intimacy and love.
Indeed, those who govern us have their effects, but hour to hour, day to day, year to year, they remain (quite expectedly) unfamiliar with the unique issues of the many and varied lives of their citizens. We, who love one another year to year, hour to hour, day to day, are best suited to improve the lives of our friends and family members, simply by holding them close in life’s assaults.
Happily, this election too, shall pass. Winners and losers will rise and fall, switch places and mostly end up as impotent to steer the ship of state as all those before them. Scandals will strike, accusations fly, a few good things will result and standard political doldrums will likely set in as always. The political pendulum will pause and swing back and forth as it has for ages, with utter disregard for our messianic political prophecies.
The future will come however we fret about the present. In the end, we will (hopefully) leave behind all of our invective, our screaming, our memes, rallies, slogans and our absolute conviction that a particular candidate will end or miraculously transform life as we know it. We’ll simply move on, as all humans do, to new idols. We’ll then cast the current objects of veneration on the dust-bin of history.
Perhaps, if we are attentive, we’ll then see that the things we dread about the future rarely come to pass at all and suddenly, five years, or ten, will pass and we will still be here, expecting the worst. All the while, of course, living in what is possibly the best time to be human in the history of the world. Many of the things that seemed so immediately critical will probably fade and many of the things that really mattered will remain despite the way we ignored their value. Then we can move forward…till the next election!
Ah, but those we love! Their troubles and victories will remain. Our shared joys and struggles will go on, bonding us together as no election ever could, motivating us far more than any party. They are the arena, they are the causes and campaigns where we make the most difference. They the ‘candidates’ who need and deserve our endless, unwavering devotion and sacrifice.
In our deep need to follow, let’s never forget to follow most closely the ones entrusted to us in the daily trials and wonders of ordinary life.