Tyranny in Your Head

Oppression changes your brain. According to neuroscience research (see resources below for two examples), forms of oppression can physically alter the brain. Some would say that it "rewires" the brain. Our brains respond to repeated or sustained forms of oppression in order to adapt in ways that cause permanent changes. Recall that I have written in recent past about a similar phenomenon, that trauma also can cause changes in the brain that are detectable by brain scans.

The implications spur off into thousands of directions, from counseling to social justice to compassion to ministry. This is relatively new research, and I'm sure we'll be hearing much more about it. I am by no means qualified to speak authoritatively on this topic, but we do have a few people in our church who are currently learning quite a lot about it in a counseling context.

Where I'm intrigued is in the theology of fallenness. In the Fall of Man, humankind was altered. But it would be inadequate to focus on just one form of fallenness. We didn't just fall morally. We didn't just die spiritually. We didn't just lose a close relationship with God. All of this is true, but we also fell physically, including our brains. In short, we got "drain bamage." Our brains were no longer pristine, firing on all cylinders, capable of perfectly healthy decisions. "Adam? That boy ain't right in the head."

Furthermore, given that trauma and oppression further alter the brain away from health, we can cause even further physiological damage to one another's brains. By inflicting trauma, we can change another's brain. By oppressing others, we can change their brains. This means that even by lying to other people about who they are and what they are worth, we can cause negative change in their brains. If we continually tell a girl she's not valuable unless she's thin and pretty, if we continually tell the materially poor that they're just lazy, if we continually tell people God hates them (or treat them as if He did), if we continually tell people they need to behave better in order for God to accept them, we effectively kill part of their brains.

When our brains are damaged, it is harder for us to relate, succeed, behave, care for others, decide, and work. Which, in turn, only invites more lies about our worth, creating a vicious vortex of deteriorating self-identity. You can lie someone into the exact horrible thing you told him he was. This brings new depth to Jesus' words when He said that calling your brother a "fool" is like murder (Matt 5:21-26).

Salvation and restoration, then, would first be the grace to cover all the damage that has been done to us by being fallen. We believe Jesus offers exactly this covering with His own perfection. Second would be for us to fight oppression wherever we see it, which includes policing ourselves to never oppress people with our words - especially children, whose brains are developing rapidly. Denigration and performance-based acceptance are lies that kill. Third would be to reverse the damage by speaking restorative truth to others, especially about their worth in God's eyes. Fourth would be something only God can do - replace these broken, fallen, damaged bodies (including brains) with fully restored bodies. We believe this is the "blessed hope" (Titus 2:13).

Within the church, ministry must never assume that people who aren't responding to "plain truth" are stupid, lazy, or hopelessly rebellious. There is a part of everyone that cannot respond rightly to truth - we are fallen. As "ministers of reconciliation" (2 Cor 5:18), our task is to labor toward restoration. This means understanding the crippling effect that oppression and lies have on us physically. Perhaps you've seen commercials lately addressing "neuroplasticity," which employs certain mental and physical exercises that can rewire the brain toward a healthier state. Without understanding the patient process restoration requires, including restoration of a poorly wired brain, we will limit ourselves in what we hope to accomplish.

For those who know more about this than I do, I invite comments, additions, and corrections. My brain needs it.

Resources:
Allen E. Ivey and Carlos P. Zalaquett, "Neuroscience and Counseling: Central Issue for Social Justice Leaders," Journal for Social Action in Counseling and Psychology, Volume 3, Number 1, Spring 2011.

Beth Barila, Integrating Mindfulness Into Anti-Oppression Pedagogy, 2015.

My Greatest Ignorances

I don't know what it's like to be an African American. I rarely have to "read" the room when I enter, I usually don't have to wonder whether someone is responding to me based on who I am or based on my skin color. I've never had some people telling me I'm "too black" and others telling me that I'm "not black enough." Even when I've been the minority in our neighborhood in LA and in Kenya, I so infrequently fall victim to racism that I can't say that I've had to endure it. So even though I can have an opinion about racism, it's only from theory, not from experience. Therefore, let me measure my words about racism humbly.

I don't know what it's like to be a Syrian refugee. I do know what it's like to see homelessness and I do know what it's like to worry about the worst that could happen. But I don't know what it's like to go through what they are going through. And to be fair, when we're talking about that many people, we cannot say anything that would be true of every single one of them. Therefore, let me exceed my fear with a greater measure of compassion.

I don't know what's it's like to have been deeply wounded by a church or a religious leader. And so I don't have any way to understand someone's anger and bitterness toward the church. I can't tell you much about what you "ought" to do next in your life until I know more about the story of your life. I can't expect you to understand my church context if your church context is one of wounding and mistrust. Therefore, let me listen and understand your pain rather than tell you what you ought to feel.

I don't know what it's like to be financially poor. Even when I was in college living on mac and cheese with hot dogs, I wasn't poor. I had parents who would catch me if I needed it. I had a job good enough to keep the lights on, so I never got in that downward cycle of paying even more just to get the lights turned back on. I have never worried if I would have enough groceries. I never had to ask "Gas or bread?" I have never known what material poverty does to one's self-identity. Therefore, let me be more concerned about someone's self-identity than their bank balance.

I don't know what it's like to be financially rich. I've imagined it. Of course, my imagination is always optimistic. I don't know what it's like for others to feel like I'm obligated to them because I have plenty. Not really. I don't know the struggle of knowing when a nice car is too nice. Not really. I'm not constantly told I must be greedy and uncaring to have so much. I don't have people trying to build a "friendship" with me because they just want to get a large donation from me. And I don't know when giving too much actually hurts a church from all members being sacrificial givers as they ought. Therefore, again, let me be more concerned about someone's self-identity than their bank balance.

I don't know what it's like to be a representative, a senator, or a president. I don't know what it's like to make thousands unhappy by making decisions based on information that can't be made public. I've heard personal stories from a former representative who was pressured hard by his own party to compromise his personal convictions in order to gain political advantage, but I've never lived that. I have only watched this grown man reduced to tears. I really don't know what it's like to always make half of your audience mad no matter what. Therefore, let me refuse to spend more energy tearing leaders down than helping them do good things.

I don't know what it's like come from a single-parent household. It took me a long time to understand why other kids liked hanging out at our house. I thought it was me! But mostly, it was that our house was stable, peaceful, and predictable - steady and a bit mundane. I never had my lone parent necessarily absent just to pay the rent. I never had to lay my head on different pillows every few nights, or worse, never lay my head down on a pillow under the same roof as one of my parents. I never had to want a marriage completely different than my folks' had. Therefore, let me add a little of what's lacking for those who need some days that are just steady and a bit mundane.

I don't know what it's like to be divorced. Lots of people do, but I can't identify with it. I don't know what it's like to be released from an abusive relationship, and I don't know what it's like to have bad go to worse because reconciliation was unattainable. I don't know what it's like to divide time with children and struggle financially trying to pay for two households. I've never had most everything in my life defined by divorce. Therefore, let me be at least one thing in someone's life that isn't defined by divorce.

I don't know what it's like to be you. I never will. All the good, all the bad - I'll never know. And so, I'll never really know how my words, my actions, and even the looks on my face affect you. I won't ever know how your history will filter my intentions. There are times that I so very much want to tell you what to do and why, and sometimes, I even have the right answer. But I will invariably be astonished when you don't react as I would. Therefore, may I always help you be a better you and never expect you to be a better me.

I Don't Want You to Know Me

I don't want you to know me. Not the real me. In fact, I work really hard so that you won't know me, and indeed so that you can't know me.

If you knew me, you'd know my faults, fears, and failures. I mess things up, I have selfish tendencies, I'm not up to snuff in some basic character issues, I get angry, I don't always eat right, and I say stupid things. It's embarrassing. "Aha!" you say - "I already know plenty of your faults." Yes, you do. You know the faults that I don't keep totally secret. You don't know my worst, ugliest, most disappointing, shameful faults. I don't let you. They are part of me, and since I have successfully hidden them from you, I have successfully prevented you from knowing me.

If you knew these things about me, you probably wouldn't like me. The faults I let you know about may be annoying, but they usually don't prevent people from liking who they think I am. But the faults I hide - wow - if you knew them, then you wouldn't like me. Or at least not nearly as much. People with my secrets aren't really likable ... not really.

Instead, I tell you just enough to fool you. I actually want you to know my lesser faults, because then I can fool you that I'm being "transparent." I'll let you know about my molehill problem so that you won't bother to ask about my mountain problem. I give you a splinter to distract you from the plank. To be honest, you're pretty easy to fool.

In other words, what I present to you is a false me. It's a projection of a person, an image of someone who doesn't exist, a catalog of qualities good enough to make a phantom likable. Who you think I am isn't even a person. You can't have a real relationship with an unreal person, so you don't have a real relationship with me, no matter how often I tell you I appreciate our "relationship."

You see, I'd rather you knew a false me than the real me. I'd prefer that you like a false me than be disappointed with the real me. I don't want to be rejected, so I don't allow the real me to be accepted. I can coast along pretty well if you like the person I project to you, and then I can pretend that you really like me. But you don't ... because you don't even know me.

I do this because I falsely get my identity and acceptance from you. I know intellectually that my identity is in Christ and my acceptance from God by grace through Christ. I know all that. And yet I still vainly try to get my sense of self from you. If I truly did get my identity from being in Christ, and if I truly did accept my own acceptance by grace from the perfectly gracious God, then I would let you know the real me ... the accepted me who knows who he is. But I don't. Instead, I put on you responsibilities that belong only to God.

I don't want you to know me because you're my idol. I don't idolize you in the worship-y way, but I look to you for something only God can give. Thereby, I foolishly make you my idol.

I'm sorry for putting you in such an awkward position. It's unfair to expect you to provide what only God can. Plus, it never works. I can't be known by idols.

Read this again to see if you find yourself in this composite (but not totally fictional) character.

D17 Part 5: Individual Identity

After the resurrection, Jesus has a famous exchange with the one who denied Him three times, Peter. Jesus questions him three times about whether or not he really loves Him like he claimed to. A perfectly tailored moment meant only for Peter. Jesus' method of discipleship of Peter would not have made sense applied to anyone else on the planet. Asking John those questions just wouldn't have been fitting. Jesus concludes this discipleship moment in the same way He first introduced Himself to the disciples in chapter 1, "Follow Me."

Peter thinks this is great! He's back in a positive relationship with Jesus, plus he has some direct instructions, "Tend My lambs." Yes! We've got ourselves a discipleship model with Jesus! Everyone should go through this process! John! John should do this!

But then Jesus also tells Peter that following Him is going to end up in his own death. He will be a martyr for the Gospel.

Then looking around at John, Peter asks Jesus, "What about him?" In essence, what's going to happen to him as Your follower? How do our two paths of discipleship relate to each other? Will our paths be similar?

Jesus says, "If I want him to live until I come back, what concern is that of yours? You follow me!" (Jn 21:21-22).

Jesus, who had just tailored a discipleship moment uniquely to Peter, tells him that He will work in the lives of disciples individually. There is no "one size fits all" in discipleship. Jesus will not ask John the same questions he asked Peter, He won't necessarily give him the same instructions to tend lambs, and He won't prescribe a cookie-cutter set of experiences as a follower. He will deal with John individually, just like with Peter, just like with you.

This leads us to our fifth of the "Seventeen Truths of Discipleship" (D17):

Discipleship must be individually-tailored, based in one’s identity in Christ.

Last week, we said that discipleship must be community-based. That's no less true - we must do discipleship in community, but community is the unity of a diverse group of people. God has designed each person uniquely, and does so for a purpose. How we're uniquely designed is a revelation of how God wants us to walk and serve as disciples.

Therefore, our discipleship of one another must be tailored to how God individually designs each one. We cannot create a set formula, set curriculum, set sequence, cookie-cutter form of discipleship.

Furthermore, we must based discipleship on our identity is Christ. Who we are as "in Christ" ones defines everything else - our doing flows from our being. Who we are in Christ is completely (COMPLETELY!!!) forgiven followers who stand before God covered entirely (ENTIRELY!!!) by the righteousness of Christ. Once in Christ, there is nothing (NOTHING!!!) we can do improve our standing before God. So complete is Grace that we have nothing left but to accept that we can't do one little thing that will make God more satisfied with us, because we are in the One who satisfies Him completely. Once we accept that, then we can begin to really grow as disciples.

Therefore, to disciple one another, we must get to know one another, to see how God has made each one unique, and then encourage one another especially in the unique ways God has made us, to fit together like a mosaic creating a picture of Christ far greater than any one of us. We must based our discipleship on who we are in Christ, not based on who are in the world.

In order to disciple one another, we must first be authentic friends who listen first and rely very little (or not at all) on pre-manufactured, one size fits all, discipleship methods. We must have an eye to how each one of us can be uniquely discipled to more of how God designed us each to be, and everything must grow from our true standing before God "in Christ."