Friday, October 19, 2018
A Letter to Men, Chiefly on Women
Dear Brothers of the X and Y chromosomes,
It is with great heaviness of heart that I write to you. Because in an age where your sisters are finally being heard, finally finding their voices, many of you seem to have taken a dismissive posture, a condescending tone, you're talking over them, and some of you are even mocking their historic #metoo movement. I love you brothers, but I'm angry.
Let us avoid a protracted history here of the marginalization of women. Although it would do us all well to know that history, to take ownership of our complicity, to mourn it and repent. Let's just look at a few grotesque and urgently relevant facts about the genders.
1 in 3 women will be sexually assaulted in their lives. 1 in 10 will be raped. 91% of all rapes are committed by men. Let that sink in.
Overwhelmingly, in 80% of rape cases, the victim trusted her attacker. She trusted you, man, brother of mine. She, trusted, you.
The threat of violence, even death as retribution for speaking out, keeps rape as the number one underreported crime. Almost 2/3rds of sexual assaults go unreported! That amounts to tens if not hundreds of thousands of women who cannot point to their attackers, either from fear of violent repercussions or the very real issue of post-traumatic symptoms that can incapacitate victims.
We don't have time here to chronicle how the justice system has further marginalized women, slapped the wrists of violent rapists like Brock Turner, consistently blaming women, telling them to keep their legs together, to dress appropriately, to not be so careless. These malignant, misogynistic pronouncements from presiding judges are well documented and only further demonstrate the patriarchal system currently in place.
The statistical evidence that points to men being the vast majority of sexual predators and violators of women is mountainous and undeniable and yet it seems that some of us brothers want to make ourselves out to be the victims of some great conspiracy against males. With the suggestion recently made that "it's just not safe to be a man anymore". The truth is that there are those females who misrepresent their rapes, but that number is around 2% and certainly not justification for men to dismiss the greater, pandemic issues of male on female violence. Men are not at so great at risk here that we must co-opt the #metoo movement and try and make a moral equivalency. It's a non-starter guys, a false dichotomy, a futile narrative that seems whiney in light of our universal entitlement. And in our hearts we know it.
So let's address a few actual statements men have said, ignorant pronouncements that shouldn't even merit discussion but apparently still do.
1. "If women were more careful where they went, what they wore, what they drank, and how much they drank, they wouldn't be so prone to assault." Women being in the wrong place, at the wrong time, wearing the "wrong thing" is not an invitation to rape them. Brothers, no matter what, to be a real man means to control one's urges. You are not an animal. But when you make any excuse for your brother's violent behavior you erroneously attribute their perverted will to only animal urges. Should women walk alone, wear what they want, go wherever they want, even at night? The statistics say if they do they have very real chance of being brutalized by a man. So maybe until men quit acting like animals women will have to circle their wagons in self-protection. And so we have the #metoo movement. Brothers, for those of you who want to continue to paint a moral equivalency between women dressing "seductively" and rape shame on you. You merely reveal your own sexual objectification of women, your own deeply ingrained belief that a women's body is a function of your desire. "Modesty" or lack thereof is not the frontline of the battle against rape, the unbridled lust of men and male entitlement is. Brothers, do you know the rape crisis line number by heart? Your sisters do. Brothers can you leave your drink at the bar unattended? Your sisters can't. Brothers do you text your friend when you get home to let them know you are safe? Your sisters do. Brothers does it ever cross your mind that what you're wearing might so inflame the lusts of the opposite gender that you're in danger? It stays on your sisters mind. All. The. Time.
2. "What else did they expect would happen?" The #metoo movement started in Hollywood, a place known for its promiscuity and sexual permissibility, for objectifying the female body, and yet rape is still just as wrong and damaging to Hollywood females. Some of the men talking about this movement seem to be implying that because Hollywood portrays, even elevates a certain sexual lifestyle where anything goes, that this is the inevitable conclusion, the judgement if you will, the natural result of a permissive culture. But when we listen to the testimonies of Hollywood women, the abuse of power in a male dominated industry is what created the fertile environment in which hundreds if not thousands of women were sexually assaulted. Men, using the positions afforded them by a patriarchal system, abused their subordinates, leveraged their power to coerce women to acquiesce for their career's sake. Victim blaming is always wrong because it always implies that men cannot control themselves and shouldn't be accountable for their own actions. Brothers you are not animals. Your sisters are not your prey.
3. "This is a politically motivated agenda." Saying the #metoo movement is a political agenda cold-heartedly and ignorantly implies that women are using their sexual assaults as fuel for a political fire. Almost as if they waited for an opportune time to make these revelations known, for the greatest political impact and the most debilitating damage to their political opponents. Shame on you for even suggesting such a thing. Women who have been abused live every day in the dark shadow of their trauma. We don't get to decide when and where they speak. And if they are being emboldened to speak now, even years after the event, they must be honored, must be heard, must be respected. Furthermore, even if a women's testimony is "politically motivated" that doesn't excuse the indefensible behavior of any man. Recent hearings in the Judge Kavanaugh have magnified our inability as men to listen and to respectfully respond to women who have experienced sexual trauma. Whether Dr. Christine Blasey Ford was raped by the Judge or wasn't does not excuse the way she was talked about, the way she was grossly maligned. When we speak so viciously to a victim, we are speaking to all victims, past present and future. We are speaking to our mothers and wives, and maybe most heinously we are speaking to our daughters. Will they feel safe to speak up about their own attacks? Or will they be silenced as so many women in the past have been silenced, by fathers and brothers, presidents and judges, speaking so dismissively, so corrosively about women. By most accounts, Dr. Ford's reliability as a witness was never in question. Could she be mistaken of some of the facts, even who attacked her? Yes. Was she attacked by someone? I also believe yes. Was she treated with the decorum and compassion victims of sexual assault deserve? Not even close. But, let's assume for a second Dr. Ford was lying, was a political plant? Can a man act judiciously, empathetically, even when being falsely accused? I'd hope so. Especially when we are demanding women act a certain way to not find themselves victims of sexual assault. And yes, I always want the truth to come out. I always want an end to politically motivated attacks of any kind. And yet, once again I say, this is not the time. To conflate the greater #metoo movement with this one instance is to confine and redefine an epidemic by one symptom, real or imagined. No matter what the truth is in from the Kavanaugh hearings, millions of women have been brutalized by men. Let's not paint the Judge as a victim of character assassination at the expense of an entire movement of women who have had infinitely more than their character assassinated.
4. "Men are abused also, often by women." Yes, this is true, in 1 out of ten cases. And yet it is not our time to distract from the super majority of cases that are male on female assault. As with the #blacklivesmatter movement when some tried to co-opt the phrase by espousing #alllivesmatter, we must remember that these movements are about upsetting the status quo, confronting an imbalance of power, about certain voices finally being heard and not the silencing of other voices. No one, not once, said white lives don't matter. The movement was and is to say black lives are equal and haven't been treated that way. Such is this #metoo movement, not to disqualify male victims of sexual assault, but to say women's voices have long carried less weight and now there is finally a choir of female survivors saying if we put our voices together we will be heard. Sing my sisters.
5. "This is all just the consequences of sin, the reality of a fallen world." To my Christian brothers especially, to paint any issue so indiscriminately undermines both the validity of your message and the sincerity of your motives. To state something so unequivocally lacks all the intellectual nuance that communicating Truth about complex issues in a modern world requires. Yes, sin, the consequences of sin, the entropy of the universe that sin began, are all apropos to the larger discussion about any type of evil and injustice. And also this is not the time for that, we know that broken people break others, that is not in debate. What is at the forefront of the #metoo movement is the reality that men abuse their power, power afforded to them by institutions that have been built to both preserve male dominance and female subjugation. We as Christians must denounce the inequality of those systems. Christ came to bring equity to His church. We must repent where we have knowingly or unknowingly been party to the marginalization of women and the muting of their voices. We must remain defiant against the enemy who would deface the image of God by repressing women. We must also stand defiant against the very "consequences of sin" in our own hearts and minds. We must root out sexual entitlement from our thoughts, our actions, and even some of our doctrines. We must remember the charge to submit one to another in love. Christlikeness looks like gentleness, kindness, and longsuffering. Not brashness, defensiveness, and self-justification. This isn't about us men. Mainly because it always has been.
Brothers this is what you can do: Stop objectifying women. Stop using their bodies, whether by pornographic images or in your imagination, for sexual gratification. Stop telling jokes that are sexually perverse, or disparaging of women. Stop justifying the crude and cruel, debasement of women by our President, by musicians, by celebrities, by your friends as "just joking". Quit telling women to lighten up. Brothers remember women are the image bearers of God. When you debase that image you fight against God, you spit in His Holy face. Brothers listen to your sisters, tell your other brothers to shut up and listen too. Brothers you are the image bearers of God too, mimic Christ in His love for his bride by laying down your life for the women in your life. Brothers love all women like your daughters, respect all women like your mothers.
I waited to say these things until the political circus of the Kavanaugh hearings were over, until Harvey Weinstein wasn't the token face of the male violator allowing other men to hide in his very large shadow. And though there is a culture of rape, a culture of misogynism that must be urgently addressed by all of us, right now this is about a #metoo movement of sexual assault survivors, their stories, their demands. It's about shutting up and listening. It's not about men being heard, we've always been heard. Right now it is about our sisters speaking and men not speaking over them.
I wrote this to address my brothers, not to defend those men who support the #metoo movement. Brothers who love women, it is not our time to be acknowledged for being decent humans. Because brothers, once again, this isn't about us. If you want to help, hold a megaphone for your sisters to shout in. And only then if you are asked, and there is no available women to do the same.
And to my sisters. I am sorry, words cannot, will not suffice. But I hear you. And I am listening intently. And I want to be part of a culture shift where men no longer abuse their power to feed their sexual appetites. Where men no longer hold the power, where it is equitably distributed to the most capable, regardless of gender. I'm listening so let me know what I can do, or let me know if you want me to do anything at all. This is about you.
I love you my sisters. You hold up more than half of the sky. Xoxo
Tuesday, October 16, 2018
Jonah. A Prophet's Pride and the Relentless Grace of God.
After almost two years of reading, studying, wrestling, and writing, my book on Jonah is finally finished! What a labor of love it has been. With so many of my friends along the way letting me flesh out these thoughts in conversation, in bible studies, and in less than literate first drafts. I wanted to take a moment here to thank them all again, and also to give a little insight into why I wrote this book, why I felt it is a story that urgently needs to be read.
Nearly 22 months ago I stepped off of a plane into Northern Iraq in the middle of the night. After a long day of security training and a longer night of restless sleep I traveled with new and returning team members to a field hospital 8 miles from Mosul. Coalition forces were in the final phases of liberating East Mosul from ISIS and here I was on the plains of Nineveh about to enter a heavily guarded and fortified compound and face death like I'd never before. Bombs shook anything that wasn't made of concrete and our on-site orientation included a tour of the compound's many bunkers. I was a long way from Mississippi, surrounded by real enemies, about to be changed forever. And while the story of my time in Iraq is referenced in this book, the majority of that experience will have to wait to be told. The pain is still too fresh, the memories yet to be completely processed.
During the lead up to my deployment I read as much as I could on the region. Its geopolitical history and current state. And of course the rapid rise and spread of the scourge that was ISIS. The terror ISIS was inflicting on the innocents of Northern Iraq cannot be described more accurately than to say it was demonic.
I also read the biblical narrative of Jonah. In fact I was drawn to it over and over. As I write in the book:
Perhaps it was the intensity, the urgency, the utter insanity of a war zone and grasping to make sense of my surroundings, but I was drawn over and over again to Jonah and the story of Nineveh. And as they had many other times in my life, the words of the book seemed simple and unrelated to my spiritual journey. Jonah remained a mythology of my youth, a fantasy of Sunday school. That story that so quickly captures the imagination of a child and insults the intelligence of an adult. The story of a big fish and a wayward prophet sulking in its stomach. And yet, continuously I was drawn back to it, until the Spirit began to unravel Jonah to me, piece by piece, line by line.
I read the book of Jonah maybe 25 times before it started to make sense. As I began to dig into the geopolitical narrative of Jonah's day I began to see modern America. And as I began to get insight into Jonah's heart and motives, I began to see myself, and my brothers and sisters in Christ. Jonah's day was rife with nationalism and his heart was too. He hated Nineveh, they were ethically inferior in his mind. He wanted their destruction, in fact he tried to sabotage God's mercy to achieve just that.
Today I see an American church clamoring toward isolation, conflating patriotism with nationalism, and resisting the call of mercy toward its neighbors. I see a deep riff forming between "us" and "them". And it breaks my heart. At its root I believe the issue is pride. It is the false belief God is on our side and against those we despise. And we couldn't be more wrong. And the results of our pride and lack of mercy are disastrous.
As I write in the book:
God is not the god of America, He is the God of the universe. Like Jonah, if we forget that God is sovereign over all nations, we make God small, we remake Him into our image. He starts to speak like us, starts to look like us, and starts to hate all the same people we hate.
Throughout the story of Jonah, from his call, to his rebellion, and all the way to his ultimate decision to sit outside of Nineveh and hope for her destruction, we also have God relentlessly pursuing Jonah with grace. My book is about that grace. It's about the true nature of God and how we should and can image that. I hope you will read what I wrote, ingest it line by line, and be fed on the richness of God's word. There is so much truth in the 48 verses of Jonah. And yet most urgently is the cautionary tale of a nation and its prophet choosing nationalism over God's desire for inclusion. Jonah was and is a prophet with an important message. One the modern American church cannot afford to miss.
I'll leave you with this short passage from the book:
The Church of Jesus is so much bigger than the Church in America. And the gospel is not best told in English, nor best represented by our idioms and American personality. The gospel is fuller, richer, more vibrant when spoken in diverse languages and expressed through many cultures. This great flavorful feast, this common meal, with so many savory spices. The worldwide Church has so many beautiful reflections of God’s glory. Like an infinitely sided diamond each of us reflects the light of God’s image in a beautifully unique way. You and I will understand God more fully when we meet Him again through the testimonies of believers from all over the world. That’s a promise. There is absolutely nothing nationalistic about grace. The Gospel gloriously transcends all governments, all nations. It speaks clearly and precisely about the day when we will pass from this world to the next. In heaven any deference or exclusion due to national identity will be locked in the prison of the past.
“After this I looked, and behold, a great multitude that no one could number, from every nation, from all tribes and peoples and languages, standing before the throne and before the Lamb, clothed in white robes, with palm branches in their hands, and crying out with a loud voice, ‘Salvation belongs to our God who sits on the throne, and to the Lamb!’” (Revelation 7:9,10)
“After this I looked, and behold, a great multitude that no one could number, from every nation, from all tribes and peoples and languages, standing before the throne and before the Lamb, clothed in white robes, with palm branches in their hands, and crying out with a loud voice, ‘Salvation belongs to our God who sits on the throne, and to the Lamb!’” (Revelation 7:9,10)
You can read a sample of my book and purchase the electronic version here.
xoxo
Saturday, October 13, 2018
Behind Those Blast Walls
My first day at the emergency field hospital just east of Mosul, Iraq was very much like my last day. Mortar strikes on civilians, children bloody and broken, black bags to hold the dead. The slow, solemn walk, cradling a ten year old in my arms, counting the steps to the morgue. Laying someone's son down on cold gravel, reading his name one last time on the death certificate taped to the body bag.
Time of death 18:17.
Patient #855.
I'll never forget the sounds of his dying. The rattling and the gurgling. I'll never forget the songs we sung over him, the prayers strangled by grief and sorrow. The tear stained cheeks and our righteous anger. I'll never forget the faraway look on his precious face. I'll never forget his face. What was left of it.
Many of us were strangers a week before, two days before. Strangers taking care of other strangers. One set from the west, a land of peace and prosperity, one set from northern Iraq, a region ravaged by terrorism and war. And now here we all were, doctors, nurses, pharmacists, translators, construction workers, administrators, and HR reps. One and all hearts turned inside out and taking care of the dying while other new friends fight for the living in mobile operating theaters a few hundred feet away.
That last night may have been the worst. The toddler with ribs exposed from mortar wounds. 9 children in one day. But there were other days, other nights when I thought my heart might die. The toddlers with their feet shot off. The whole families targeted by drone strikes. The burnt and blackened restaurant patrons, victims of a suicide bomber. One night in particular I carried five children to the morgue. It leaves you breathless, concussed. The mortar of sorrow, a direct shot to the soul.
I'm processing, I'm free bleeding my heart and thoughts here so I don't explode and because I don't have the luxury of denial. I cannot separate my belief in a good and sovereign God and the suffering of innocence. If there is no reconciling the two than I am lost. We all are. Especially Christians, fools to be pitied of all men.
But what we found there, behind those blast walls, with the ceaseless drums of artillery fire, the strangled song of the whine and wail of one ambulance after another, was that hope is not a thing you wish for, it is the only thing afloat in a raging sea of chaos. It is what you hold on to, what holds on to you so you do not go under the relentless waves of grief. And we found that you hold on to each other. And you pray like gasping for your last breath. And you plead with heaven, even when heaven is silent. And you raise your broken hearts together in a pitiful little petition, more whimpers than words, and you beg, unified in grief, "Jesus please....."
The Bible says that suffering produces hope. A comical, sadist thought when the belly is full and the sun of our futures never sets, always shines on our glorious destinies. But when the night never ends, when the morgue is full, when evil seems to be laughing in every shadow, on those nights you somehow see it. Suffering produces hope in this way: when terrorism and hate and the cancer of evil spreads over all that is good with a blight of darkness, the light still does not go out. There is a flame in the hearts of those who have known the love of God. There is a song of praise that is not stalled on their lips, is not silenced. There is a light in the inner places of those who have heard the Word of Life and believed. This is the flower of hope that grows in the garden of souls by heaven's Holy seed. This is the hope that springs eternal, because it has always existed, always will exist apart from the human stain, in the Holy heart of God.
Suffering produces hope in the same way bomb blasts produce the broken bodies of children. It is the inevitability, the cause and the effect of universal laws. But only one will remain. Hope will swallow grief one day because Love will conquer all. But Hope is inevitable in us only when we trust, against our own instincts, in the goodness of God and allow ourselves to be taken deep into our own human frailty, far past vulnerability to the point of despair. And in that wasteland of our utter uselessness, in that wilderness of our unraveling, God is there, He is faithful, He alone, as He has always been, is holding the universe together and simultaneously holds us in the palm of His hand.
That is the only hope: that God holds His own in the palm of His hands while they yet suffer. And that the insatiable hunger of the mouth of Hell cannot devour the ragtag, broken band of believers called the church.
In the picture above I hold in my hand a 50 caliber bullet taken from the body of a pre-teen boy. An ISIS sniper shot him because their's is an ideology of fear. They target the weak, not just because the weak are a low-hanging fruit, but because most of us are weak. Most of us are trying to live our simple lives in peace. ISIS needs capitulation. They need submission. A sniper bullet in the side of a child reminds us the world is not at peace and things are not simple. It reminds us that suffering isn't a concept, that no abstraction paralyzed this young man. It reminds us that we are fragile and vulnerable. It reminds us that to walk the way of love our hearts will be obliterated by suffering.
And so against all hope we hope, that Love will one day conquer all. But not human love. Only God's selfless love, for with it carries His perfect all-powerful justice and the promise and ability to make all things new. Godspeed that day. Especially for the precious children of Mosul.
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