Why are we so uncomfortable with transgendered individuals?

          Anybody who watches any television at all, or looks at the Internet even occasionally, or even pays attention to what other people are talking about, has most likely heard of Caitlyn Jenner by now. The former U.S. Olympic gold medalist Bruce Jenner recently identified as transgender and has completed her transition to female. Caitlyn debuted her new look in a recent preview of Vanity Fair’s July issue.

          Responses have been mostly supportive, but those that aren’t are often cruel and ignorant. Sadly, many of these are from people who claim to be followers of Christ. They say God doesn’t make mistakes, that if a man is effeminate or a woman is masculine, it’s because that’s the way God intended them to be. This argument is rubbish. If a child is born with her heart outside her body, do we glibly say, “Well, that’s God’s will, so be it”? Of course not! We live in a day and age where medical science can correct this defect so that the child can grow up healthy. We turn to medical science to correct all sorts of defects and impairments and incongruencies so that we can be “normal,” whatever that means to us. Even in the case of accidents, when one loses a limb or an organ, we seek ways to restore the lost or damaged appendage and to be whole again. Few criticize such efforts, and most praise the science that makes restoration possible.

          Yet when gender or sexuality are involved, many among us express disgust and even anger, purporting to defend God and God’s ways. How arrogant to presume that God has appointed us God’s mouthpiece! Isn’t God perfectly capable of speaking for God’s self? Perhaps our yapping and trolling and posting and criticizing and judging keep our brains and mouths busy enough so our hearts and ears don’t have to listen to what God is trying to say to us through the lives of the very people we are beating up with our words.

          Any patriarchal society—including most in Christendom—honors, reveres, and even worships the phallus. Many of my fellow Christians will be angry at this statement, because they don’t bow to a phallus statue like our ancient ancestors once did. But we do put humans with penises above those who don’t have them. How many Christian denominations still don’t ordain women for the ministry? Or allow women to teach in church? Or exclude gay men? Or deny women the use of birth control? Some fringe Christian sects even treat women as little more than baby factories and live-in domestic help.

          Most Christians will turn to the creation stories in Genesis to explain their viewpoint: “Male and female, he [God] created them.” (Genesis 1:27 and 5:2). Yet they ignore the New Testament reference to God’s opinion about gender, among other things: “…there is no longer male and female; for all of you are one in Christ Jesus.” (Galatians 3:28). If we are all one in Christ Jesus, and God doesn’t discriminate on the basis of gender, then why do we, as followers of Christ, continue to do so?

          Let’s get something very clear: your sex is between your legs, but your gender is between your ears. For most of us, the two match up just fine. But for some, they don’t. And that incongruence can make life miserable for people who live in a society that places so much emphasis on sex roles and gender conformity. Instead of looking at a person’s spirit, we evaluate what sort of genitals we think they have and then expect them to live up to certain expectations merely on the basis of whether they have a penis or a vagina (God help the intersexed, who are born with both!).

          In the ancient world, men who identified as female and women who identified as male were often allowed to live their lives as they identified. In many Native American tribes, such people are referred to as two spirit, or berdache. These ancient cultures understood something that we seem to have a hard time grasping, that sex and gender are two different things.

          And why do we, as believers in the God of Abraham, have such a hard time with gender fluidity and non-conformity when the very God we worship has no gender? We call God “he” simply because the English language doesn’t have a gender-neutral pronoun appropriate for a person; calling God “It” seems disrespectful. Some languages in the world have no gender-specific pronouns at all, and they don’t adopt English pronouns when speaking about God. And if we examine Biblical references to angels and the souls of people in the afterlife, we can surmise that neither angels nor we will have gender once we depart this earthly plane of existence (see Matthew 22:30 and Mark 12:25). At least, at that point, gender and sex will be irrelevant.

          So why do we berate and criticize and judge people like Caitlyn Jenner and Chaz Bono and countless others around the world who seek medical assistance to help their outsides match their insides when the Bible is clear that gender is not such a big deal? I’ll tell you why. It’s because it upsets the status quo and makes males and male-worshipping females feel a loss of power and control, and perhaps even question their own gender-based biases and assumptions. Because it forces us to confront God’s very own feminine characteristics (there are many references in both the Old and New Testaments that use feminine pronouns in the original Biblical languages to refer to God, and use female metaphors for God; just look them up, if you dare). Acknowledging these aspects of God’s nature compels us to reflect the same in the world we live in, a calling that truly terrifies many Christians because it makes them vulnerable to the same judgment and derision that they may have doled out themselves.

          I personally believe we are so uncomfortable with transgendered individuals—especially male-to-female individuals—and with effeminate gay men and masculine lesbians, as well, because at our core many of us are misogynistic. For thousands of years we have demeaned and exploited and abused and neglected God’s pinnacle of creation (if you are a creationist, you cannot deny that God wasn’t done until God made woman!). Men who identify as women, effeminate gay men, and even straight men who display personality traits that are perceived as feminine (sensitivity, creativity, a caring heart) have been the objects of derision because of their feminine qualities. Aren’t all people made in the image of God? Does God make mistakes? No? Then how hypocritical of us Christians to demean people for simply trying to be who they are in as authentic a way as possible.

          It is easy for me to write these words because I do not identify as transgender, and because I do not personally know a transgendered individual (at least, not to my knowledge). No one in my family or immediate circle of friends is transgendered. No one in my church or workplace is transgendered that I know of. I certainly know men who display feminine characteristics, as well as women who possess masculine traits, but none of them have come out to me as transgendered. I even hesitate to use those words “masculine” and “feminine” when talking about one’s characteristics, because all of that is merely a social invention. There is no biological basis for being strong or sensitive or caring or authoritative. These are all just human qualities that we are all capable of possessing and cultivating and fine-tuning as we grow and develop. But when the day comes that I am privileged to be in the company of a transgendered individual, I pray that I can respond with the grace, compassion, and dignity that my Lord Jesus would have shown that person, and that I can show them the love of Christ and accept them as they are, which is how I am accepted by the God who made me.

Learn How to Learn

          When do you think learning begins? When you start school in Kindergarten or preschool? When you are a toddler at home, learning to walk and talk and beginning to explore your world more independently? Maybe even at birth, as you learn your parents’ faces and what your fingers and toes are all about? Some researchers say that we begin learning even before we are born, while we are in our mothers’ wombs. And an unproven yet widely held theory holds that human beings actually inherit learning from our ancestors, that certain memories (and learning is all about memory) are present in our DNA!

          Learning is a process, then, that begins in the womb, at least, and continues throughout our lifespans…and perhaps beyond. Merriam-Webster’s Collegiate Dictionary (11^th edition) defines the verb to learn as “…to gain knowledge or understanding of or skill in [a topic] by study, instruction, or experience.” Harold D. Stolovitch and Erica J. Keeps, authors of Telling Ain’t Training, define learning as simply adaptation and change. To them, learning is transformational. We are different after we emerge from a learning experience. We know or understand more or differently than we did before the experience, and perhaps we are able to do something that we weren’t able to do before. Learning changes us.

          We can choose two different perspectives on how we approach a learning situation. If our locus of control is external, then we hold others responsible for our learning. If we learn something well, then it’s because we had a good teacher. If we don’t, then it’s the instructor’s fault. However, if our locus of control is internal, then we take responsibility for our own learning. We can learn something well both because of and in spite of the aptitude of our instructor, because we are in control of our learning. Of course, learning is a shared responsibility. The subject matter experts—those who possess the knowledge, understanding, or skill to be learned—are responsible for providing true, accurate, up-to-date knowledge and skills to the best of their abilities, while the learners—we who desire to be changed by the learning experience—are responsible for receiving what the subject matter expert has to offer and accommodating that into our learning framework, or schema, to the best of our abilities.

          As a partner in this teaching-learning process, we students can improve our performance by becoming aware of our own styles and preferences. First, it’s important that we have a good understanding of our innate personality types and preferences. The Myers-Briggs Type Indicator, or MBTI, is a descriptive system for identifying how individuals perceive the world and make decisions. The MBTI utilizes four dichotomies:

• Extraversion (a preference to act, then reflect, then act again) and Introversion (a preference to reflect, then act, then reflect again);
• Sensing (gathering information using the five senses) and Intuiting (gathering information intuitively based on prior learning or on holistic analysis, or how something fits into the “big picture”);
• Thinking (using logic and reason to make decisions; using one’s “head”) and Feeling (making decisions based on how it makes oneself or others feel; using one’s “gut”); and
• Judging (logical, empathetic, like to bring matters to a close) and Perceiving (concrete, abstract, keeping matters open-ended).

        Another assessment often used to help individuals describe their personality preferences is the Strong Interest Inventory, widely used in career counseling to help individuals create a career path that best suits their preferences in the workplace. The types used in the SII are based on the six personality codes developed by psychologist John Holland:

• Realistic types prefer the world of things and processes more than ideas or people.
• Investigative types are often intellectual and introspective, preferring to solve problems or conduct research.
• Artistic types are creative and expressive, often preferring unstructured environments where they can freely express their feelings and use their imaginations.
• Social types enjoy working with people and helping others in some way.
• Enterprising types are often outgoing, adventurous, and readily take risks, preferring to lead, persuade, and compete.
• Conventional types tend to be conservative, organized, and practical, paying close attention to detail and going by the rules.

         Second, a good understanding of our intelligence will indicate what we may be naturally good at learning, and where we might need some additional support when learning. A currently popular theory of intelligence is Howard Gardner’s theory of multiple intelligences. Gardner proposes that there are eight basic abilities where intelligence is displayed, and that all people have a strength in at least one of these areas, and can gain intelligence in any area with proper support and opportunity. These eight abilities are:

• Musical: sensitivity to sounds, rhythms, tones, and other aspects of music.
• Visual-spatial: ability to visualize, or picture things in one’s mind, and relate well to spaces and the things in them.
• Verbal-linguistic: aptitude for words and languages.
• Logical-mathematical: talent for using numbers and data to perform tasks requiring critical thinking and analysis, often identifying cause-effect relationships.
• Bodily-kinesthetic: controlling one’s body and manipulating objects well.
• Interpersonal: ability to sense others’ moods and feelings and work well in a group.
• Intrapersonal: knowing oneself well; introspective and reflective.
• Natural: sensitivity to the natural world of plants, animals, the environment, and nature.

        Many proponents of Gardner’s theory promote the existence of a ninth mode of intelligence, existential, which is a sensitivity to religious and spiritual experiences.

        Finally, knowing one’s learning style preferences can be helpful when receiving new information and knowledge. Many educators subscribe to the VARK theory of learning preferences:

• Visual learners prefer to take in new information through the eyes, by watching demonstrations and videos, and by reading literature with many illustrations.
• Auditory learners prefer to hear the new knowledge or information, taking it in through the ears.
• Reading/writing learners prefer the written word for receiving new knowledge and information.
• Kinesthetic learners like to move and manipulate things, using their hands and bodies while learning.

        Some learning experts discount this theory, claiming that there is no solid research to prove that individuals have one style preference over another. The fact is that human beings learn in all of these ways to some degree, and some learning experiences might require one mode more than the others. You, the learner, can decide for yourself what your preferences are and adjust your learning habits accordingly. A multimodal approach is probably best for all involved in the teaching-learning experience.

        Once you are familiar with your personality, intelligences, and learning style preferences, you can better adapt yourself in order to make the most of your learning experiences. For example, if you are an Extraverted and Social type with Interpersonal intelligence, you might learn best in groups. You could form or join a study group and look for classes that provide lots of opportunities to discuss the material to be learned and/or work in groups. On the other hand, if you are more Intraverted and Investigative with a Logical-Mathematical intelligence, you might prefer learning experiences that are more individualized, tasks that require analysis and problem-solving, and classes that provide opportunities for independent study and learning. In either case, you can capitalize on your learning by understanding what your personal input preferences are and looking for modes of delivery that match those preferences. If your instructor doesn’t already provide multimodal opportunities, ask her to direct you to websites and other resources where you might find material that does match your personal preferences.

        If you’d like to learn more about MBTI, Holland Codes, multiple intelligences, and personal learning style preferences (especially VARK), just type in these terms in your favorite Internet search engine. You’ll even find free, online assessments. Be careful, though; some of these assessments have not been scientifically validated, and the websites might actually be “phishing” for your information so that they can send you junk email. It’s better to look for websites that are linked to your school’s or workplace’s own website because those have been vetted by professionals at your school or workplace. For starters, try the California Career Zone [www.cacareerzone.org] for some free online assessments, and the VARK Questionnaire [www.vark-learn.com]. If you’re attending a school, college, or university, see a counselor, academic advisor, or career specialist for more information and guidance on how to be a better learner. If you’re already in the workforce, your human resources office might have learning resources available to you.

        You might believe that you aren’t and never have been a “good” student, but if you’re able to read and understand this blog, you’re able to learn, and that means that you are able to learn how to learn. Remember, you started learning before you were born, and no one knows for sure when you’ll stop learning. No matter how old you are, it’s never too late to learn how to be a better learner.

Sources:

1. Carey, Benedict. (2014). How We Learn. New York: Random House.
2. Holland Codes. (2015, March 16). In Wikipedia, The Free Encyclopedia. Retrieved 21:56, March 16, 2015, from http://en.wikipedia.org/w/index.php?title=Holland_Codes&oldid=651668506
3. Myers–Briggs Type Indicator. (2015, March 16). In Wikipedia, The Free Encyclopedia. Retrieved 21:55, March 16, 2015, from http://en.wikipedia.org/w/index.php?title=Myers%E2%80%93Briggs_Type_Indicator&oldid=651626380
4. Stolovitch, Harold D. and Erica J. Keeps (2011). Telling Ain’t Training. The American Society for Training and Development.
5. Theory of multiple intelligences. (2015, March 16). In Wikipedia, The Free Encyclopedia. Retrieved 21:57, March 16, 2015, from http://en.wikipedia.org/w/index.php?title=Theory_of_multiple_intelligences&oldid=651668282

A note from Wikipedia.org about citing their articles:

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Wearing Our Faith

          It being a warm, sunny day yesterday, I opted to eat my lunchtime sandwich while sitting on a low wall near a parking lot of the community college across the street from where I work. There was a light amount of foot traffic passing by, mostly the late-teens and twenty-somethings that comprise the majority of the college’s student population. From a distance I could see two figures who did not represent that population, though. Their distinctive white shirts, short-cut hair, and name tags gave their identity away, along with the fact that there were two of them. They’re always in pairs.

          I watched as they greeted students who walked past, asking if they could give them a brochure. Of course they stopped to chat with me. One asked if I was having a good day. “So far, so good,” I replied. Then the other asked if I was a student or teacher at the college. Good tact, I thought. Being mistaken for a student always makes me feel a little good about myself, even if that’s not what the speaker intended. I replied that I worked at the language school across the street. He then informed me that they worked at a school across the street, too, pointing to the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints training facility on the other side of the parking lot.

          The young men were very friendly and pleasant, although one of them did most of the talking. Of course the conversation quickly steered toward “the prophet.” The chatty one asked me if I thought it was possible for God to call a prophet for our modern times. I replied that I believe it is possible for God to call whomever God wants and whenever God wants for whatever purposes God decides. They seemed to like that answer. When they inquired more about my faith, I explained that I am a deacon in the Presbyterian church. We talked about Presbyterian missionaries and their terms of service. We talked a little bit about what Presbyterians believe and so on. They invited me to a meeting where I could learn more about “the prophet.” I politely declined.

          By that time I had about ten minutes left before I needed to be back at work, so we amicably parted. Later, as I reflected on the conversation, I wished that I had thought to ask these young men some questions: Why does only one of you do most of the talking? How often do you get to call or write home to your family? Why don’t I ever see black or brown-skinned Mormon missionaries? Or overweight Mormon missionaries, for that matter? Why does your church hate LGBT people so much? And why do you keep talking about “the prophet” when your church is called the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints? Why not talk about Jesus and His message more? And do you really wear special undergarments that have been blessed by your church’s leadership?

          Then my thoughts turned to other religious people practicing their faith—or obeying their religion’s mandates—in public places: the Salvation Army in their pseudo-military getups; the Muslim men wearing beards and robes and head dressings, tabling on the sidewalk on the campus; the Jehovah’s Witnesses, looking like the rest of us until they whip out those Watchtowers; there are even a few bare-headed, robed, tambourine-shaking Hare Krishnas leftover from the 1970s here and there, at least in California. There are no pretenses with all these people. You know who you’re talking to when you see them, or at least once you see what kind of literature they’re holding in their hands. And while I don’t personally agree with all of their religion’s precepts, as long as they proclaim a message of peace and love, I can tolerate them as long as they tolerate me.

          It’s when the messages stray from peace and love to practices of exclusion, thought control, domination and submission—an “us vs. them” attitude—that I begin to have a problem with these or any religion’s practices. This morning there was a story online of the Salvation Army’s public service campaign in South Africa to raise awareness of domestic violence. The ad showed a pretty white female model wearing the now-famous white and gold/blue and black dress of recent internet popularity. The model was covered with bruises, and the caption asks why it's so hard to see black and blue (you can see the ad here). I inwardly applauded their noble efforts to help put an end to this detestable practice, but I quickly stopped my clapping when I saw a related story about how the Salvation Army had possibly denied long-term shelter to a homeless transgendered woman. Where’s the love of Christ there? Are attractive white females more worthy of God’s grace than homeless individuals who don’t fit the Salvation Army’s definition of womanhood?

          My finger of blame may be pointing to the Salvation Army, Mormons, and other groups who claim to be a part of the body of Christ, but there are three other fingers pointed right back at myself. I grew up in a strict, predominantly white, Southern-rooted Christian denomination that still doesn’t ordain women as pastors or deacons, still doesn’t allow a divorced man to serve as a pastor or deacon, still condemns dancing, drinking alcohol, and playing cards, and would not tolerate a “practicing homosexual” to worship in their midst (Lord only knows what they’d do with a transgendered individual). This denomination is very male-dominated, patriotic, and focused on the avoidance of sin. I was taught that if a person died before asking God to forgive them of a particular sin, that person would go to Hell. Although I have traveled far from that black-and-white, rules-bound upbringing in my own faith journey, the evil spirits of judgment and labeling, of the “us vs. them” mentality, are hard to exorcise. It’s just that now my “them” are the people whose practices show disrespect for diversity, disregard for the environment, ostracization of the outcast, idolization of country and military might and weapons—basically all the things I am now against. But I know in my heart of hearts that I have such a problem with “them” because I was once them, ignorant and living in spiritual darkness, and inside my soul some of that darkness still struggles against the Light.

          Jesus, the model for my faith, loved everybody, even—and perhaps especially—those who persecuted him. And therein lies my struggle: it’s easy to love those who are like me, who agree with me socio-politically and theologically, who follow lifestyles similar to my own. It’s much harder to love those who are different from me, and the more different they are, the harder it is to love them. The labels for them come just as easily as those in my more conservative days: before, the terms “non-Christian” and “non-believer” encompassed anybody who didn’t fit my worldview, from Communists to liberals to feminists to gays to pacifists; now the labels are Islamophobes, homophobes, misogynists, gun worshipers, nationalists, warmongers, capitalists, and anything else that doesn’t fit my current worldview. I’m just as judgmental as before; it’s just that now I’ve stepped over the line and turned my lens back on the ones I used to stand with, years ago. What I really need to do is turn that lens on myself, get the “plank” out of my own eye in order to better see the “splinter” in my fellow human being’s eye.

          I posted a meme on my personal Facebook page recently, but I posted it as private because I was afraid that many of my conservative Facebook friends would judge me (How ironic, the judger is afraid of being judged!). It stated, “Buddha was not Buddhist. Jesus was not Christian. Muhammad was not Muslim. They were teachers who taught love. Love was their religion.” I liked this meme for several reasons: First, Jesus was not a Christian. He was a Jew. Many Christians throughout history and today conveniently ignore that fact. He worshiped in Jewish synogogues and temples, appointed a rough-around-the-edges Jewish fisherman to be the cornerstone of His community of followers, yet welcomed Gentiles, tax collectors, prostitutes, diseased people, and anybody else into His community, never once telling them that they had to become Jews, or even addressing the religious beliefs of those individuals. His message was all about simply turning to God and living in loving relationship with God and other people. In Jesus’ definition, sin was anything that kept one from loving God, loving others, and loving self completely. Yet like many of our Jewish spiritual forebears, we Christians (and many Muslims, too) became focused on identifying the particular sins of others; we became like the Pharisee in Jesus’ parable, publicly proclaiming how thankful he was that he was not like the nearby unrighteous tax collector. We became self-righteous by deflecting our unrighteousness onto those who did not conform to our own unrealistic expectations of righteousness. Like me, we judge others because we are too uncomfortable judging ourselves—or perhaps because we judge ourselves too harshly and can’t handle the resulting burden of guilt?

          Second, I feel that Christians have misjudged Buddha and Muhammad throughout the years. Buddhists are labeled as idol worshipers, while Muslims are labeled as expansionists and terrorists. Think about how Christians are labeled in many countries and cultures around the world based on the actions of some of those who profess to follow Christ. We are called warmongers, imperialists, and murderers because of what we have done in the name of Christ. What blasphemy against Christ’s name we have committed and continue to commit!

          I do not want to end this blog without acknowledging the Christians, Jews, Muslims, Mormons, Salvation Army members, and others around the world who are united in their efforts to expand their particular group’s views into a more loving embrace of God’s people everywhere. These are the people who advocate for worldwide peace and nonviolence; who work for equity and fairness for the working poor and charity for those who cannot work; who not only invite members of the LGBT community into their fold, but affirm their identities and marriage commitments to each other; who seek to learn from, and not fear, other religious traditions; who respect all gender identities, all sexes, all races and nationalities and ethnicities and intellectual and physical abilities as being of equal value in God’s sight; who simply seek to love God with their whole being, and love others as they love themselves. I want to be like that. I want my only label to be “kind and loving person.” For if God truly is love, as 1 John 4:8 proclaims, then those who fit the label of kind and loving person must surely be a child of God.

The Stampeding Beast

Modern North Americans are not reluctant to discuss their health conditions. Indeed, the standard greeting in American English is “How are you?” Of course it is a rhetorical question, in most cases, with the usual “Fine thank you, and you?” response expected and offered by most. Still, the topic of one’s aches and pains and maladies is not taboo, especially amongst our aging population…of which I am now officially a member, according to the American Association of Retired Persons. And I am no different from most other people on the downhill side of fifty. I don’t mind sharing about my past surgeries, my routine medical procedures and exams, and how I creak and pop a little more than before whenever I get out of bed in the morning. While I wouldn’t share every detail of my entire medical history with just anybody, my mundane physical ups and downs are more or less an open book.

          But there are other medical struggles that many—perhaps most, if not all—human beings experience regularly, yet we hesitate to admit them. These common afflictions are less visible than the others, sometimes manifesting no outward signs or symptoms at all. But they take their toll nevertheless, leading to stress-induced illnesses that weaken our hearts, mess up our intestines, and affect our capacity to enjoy meaningful relationships with other people. I’m referring to mental illness.

          There is still such a strong taboo associated with mental illness in North America that many people would rather suffer in silence than admit their struggles. Look at how loosely we use the word “crazy” in our language, in both good and bad contexts: “You’re crazy, man!” “That cake was crazy good!” “I was crazy busy at work today.” With such a flippant attitude toward the concept, no wonder people hesitate to articulate that which afflicts them from within. It takes more courage to admit a struggle with mental health than it does to admit a physical ailment, no matter how serious. When someone suffers a physical problem, we blame the problem and empathize with the victim. When someone suffers a mental health struggle, we so often turn the blame on the sufferer. Why is that?

          In centuries past, people with physical deformities or birth defects or chronic illnesses were often said to be punished by God for their sins, therefore they were “unclean,” like the lepers and the hemorrhaging woman in the Bible’s New Testament. And people suffering from mental illnesses were said to be possessed by demons. Those were superstitious explanations for things the ancients couldn’t understand. While there is a remnant of people today who cling to such dark ignorance, even the most religious among us have accepted medical science’s explanations for the things that make us less than healthy. But the specter of that ancient stigma sticks like a tattoo that cannot be erased, thus we often label people suffering from mental illness as unclean. It is no wonder these victims so often keep their battles to themselves…all too often with tragic consequences.

          So it is not easy for me to state that I have struggled with a recurring mental health issue since childhood. It has vexed me for as long as I can remember, never becoming serious enough to interfere with my schoolwork or my jobs, never keeping me from doing the things that I really wanted to do, and never leading me down paths of addiction or self-medication with drugs and alcohol. And yet, it wakes up from dormancy occasionally and goes on a rampage, sort of like that herpes virus I somehow got on my lip in second grade that pops up as a cold sore sometimes when I get sunburned or have a fever.

My anxiety attacks, however, come more frequently than the cold sores. I’m not sure what triggers these episodes; anything and everything, I suppose. This month, August 2014, has been awful: the death by suicide of Robin Williams; the barbaric execution of American journalist James Foley; the suffering of thousands of Christians and other minorities in Iraq at the hands of a brutal extremist group. And these are just a few of the news-worthy items. There are the ongoing stressors, too: my dad is almost ninety; his house has been on the market for a year now; I’m living on my savings as I transition my career; I’m learning technological things many Americans now learn in middle school; the demands my church makes on me increase the longer I attend there; the inescapable contact with people who stress me out. And then there are stressors that I actually volunteer for, such as participating in my church’s drama performances, and taking online classes. There is no single stressor that sets me off, but a collection of small, everyday events and circumstances and people in my life that just pile up on my back until I feel I’m at the breaking point.

          Sometimes it literally feels like a pile of bricks on my back, squeezing my neck and shoulders until they hurt. And the constant feeling of dread in my stomach creates mild gastro-intestinal distress that is annoying and depletes my energy. I have no doubt that my condition affects my blood pressure adversely, and that it causes disturbances in my sleep patterns and affects my metabolism.

          So now that I’ve “come out” as an anxiety sufferer, many concerned friends and relatives will ask, “What can I do to help?” If I knew the answer to that question, I would have already helped myself. And I have a master’s degree in counseling, so I already know what therapists would recommend. I know that exercise, rest, good nutrition, hydration, prayer and/or meditation, and other healthy practices are beneficial for coping with anxiety and other mental health issues. But if you really want to know, here are some suggestions:

1.     Please don’t tell me what I should be doing. I already know that, and when you tell me what I should be doing, it reminds me that I’m not doing it, which sends me into an even deeper tailspin and makes me feel all the worse about myself. Instead, ask me, “What are you doing to cope with your anxiety?” Then if I give you a positive response, you can ask, “How can I help you with that?”

2.     If you sense that I am stressed, please don’t make more demands of me. People like me have a hard time saying no, and that contributes to our stress. Ask me what you will, but don’t expect an immediate response. Give me some time to reflect and respond later. If you must have an answer now, then the answer is “no.” Accept that and please don’t try to convince me otherwise. That will just make me feel more pressured, then I will feel angry, then I will blame myself for feeling angry, then I will retreat and the tailspin will continue.

3.     There are some situations, people, and environments that I find stressful, even under healthy circumstances. Noisy, crowded places are an example of a stressful environment. Boredom, monotony, and repetition stress me out. Whining, complaining people set me off. Of course I recognize that many people whom I find to be stressful are themselves experiencing some sort of mental distress. But when I am feeling vulnerable, I am not the best company for them. That’s not beneficial to them or to me. Please understand when I need to separate myself from these stressors during a time of vulnerability.

4.     My quirks and eccentricities will be magnified during an anxiety episode. For example, I naturally get bored with repetitious activities, so when I’m feeling stressed, I may have even less focus than when I’m in a less anxious state. Please be patient. I may not do things in the most efficient or logical way from some viewpoints, but they will get done, in my way and in my time.

5.     I slip into the grip of my inferior function when I feel stressed. This is Myers-Briggs Type talk, but what it means is this: I am naturally an intuitive-feeling-perceiver (NFP), which means I take in information intuitively, express it emotionally, and act on it holistically and spontaneously. My inferior function, however, is sensing-thinking-judging (STJ). That means if I feel stressed, I will hyper-focus on only that which I can perceive with my five senses, overthink the hell out of it, and then be all anal-retentive about organizing the details to absolute closure. Not me at my best. If you see me doing that, just ask me simply, “Inferior function?” Then help me get back on track to doing what I do best as an NFP: trusting my gut, feeling things out, and going with the flow.

Talking about what’s going on in one’s head is good therapy itself. Some people pay hundreds of dollars per hour to a counseling psychologist for that, others much less getting their hair done or having a margarita. [Note: a competent counseling psychologist is trained to guide the client with effective questioning techniques and insightful comments, so they are worth what they get paid]. Journaling or blogging about it is helpful, too; I feel better just by writing this and explaining about my struggles, what helps and what doesn’t, and what it’s like to experience anxiety on a semi-regular basis.

I know I’m not alone in my struggles. Anxiety is as common as cold sores. Just about everyone gets it to some degree or another. And hundreds of millions of people around the world have circumstances in their lives that are much, much more stressful than mine, so I acknowledge that I am blessed and I am grateful for those blessings. Yet gratitude and humility and concern for the deeper suffering of others won’t completely eradicate my own bouts of anxiety. This may well be something that will afflict me my entire life, as it has some people very close to me. But it doesn’t have to control me. I can corral this beast and keep it contained as much as possible. And perhaps in discussing my own struggles, I can encourage someone else who is suffering in silence to name their beast, face it head on, and ultimately contain its tendency to go on a rampaging stampede through their inner landscape.

Side Trip or Sidetrack?

          In 1988 and again from 1991 to 2002, I taught English as a second or foreign language in South Korea and in various places in the U.S. I enjoyed teaching the English language. It was satisfying to get to know a group of students over a semester or an eight or ten week term. I liked creating learning experiences that were both useful and enjoyable. The conversations with students outside of class time were often stimulating and entertaining, and the cultural excursions were exciting. Put quite simply, it was fun. And for me, it’s important that my work be fun.

          So why did I leave teaching for advising and counseling roles? There were several reasons. Teaching jobs were term-to-term in most cases, not permanent, and although that was more or less in my comfort zone, I felt that the job insecurity caused stress on my relationship with my significant other of that time. There were also no included benefits with the jobs in the U.S., so I had to depend on my significant other’s employee benefits for domestic partners. And the pay wasn’t great. While it would have been enough for me to support myself alone, it wasn’t enough for me to contribute to the lifestyle that seemed important to my significant other. So I sought permanent, full-time jobs with benefits. And, I did have an interest in advising and counseling that pre-dated my relationship with my significant other, so I willingly made the career shift.

          Now I’m more or less done with counseling and looking forward to a new chapter in teaching, this time incorporating more e-learning and multimedia technologies in my practice. I am both excited and nervous, with all sorts of questions spinning in my mind: Will I be able to successfully facilitate learning in my students, helping them reach their educational goals while also fulfilling the expectations of my employer? Will my methods and approaches be outdated? Will I be able to capture and hold the attention of these millennials who have grown up with smart phones and tablets in hand? Will I look like a dinosaur next to the veteran teachers?

          And some of the old concerns have crept back: the insecurity of continued employment from one term to the next; the lack of benefits; the relatively low pay.

          Yet despite these questions and concerns, I wouldn’t go back to counseling unless I absolutely had to. Sitting at a desk in an office all day long; working with students individually one after the other, having the same conversations over and over again; dealing with the stress and drama of departmental and institutional politics; all of that was not for me, no matter how secure the position or how high the pay or how good the benefits. Counseling just didn’t feed my soul. It wasn’t fun at all.

          My faith in God drives me to trust that my Creator loves me and has a plan for me, a plan to prosper me and not to harm me, a plan of hope for my future. Sure, doubts and insecurities sometimes cloud that faith. But if they didn’t, it wouldn’t be faith; it would be certainty, which doesn’t require much faith at all. And without faith, there can be no meaningful relationship with God.

          I believe that in all things, God works for my good. There is good to be found from my years counseling and advising; good that I can bring to the table of my new life as a teacher. A side trip isn’t the same as a sidetrack. I’ll need some time to get back on the teaching track again, for sure, but this time it will feel like a new experience because of the new knowledge I’ve gained. I believe that good awaits me because I’ve consistently encountered good all along my life’s path. In spite of my neurotic anxieties, I don’t expect the path that lies ahead to be any different.

Note: Of great inspiration to me in my decision to return to teaching was Parker J. Palmer’s The Courage to Teach: Exploring the Inner Landscape of a Teacher’s Life, 10^th Anniversary Edition (2007, Jossey-Bass).

A Model Child

          I was a model child growing up. No, really, I was. I seldom got in trouble. I almost always obeyed my parents. I never experimented with drugs, and I didn’t take my first social drink until I was in college. I seldom stayed out past midnight; in fact, I think I got in after midnight only once, when my friend’s car broke down and we had to call her dad to come help us out. I never asked for much money, never wanted expensive clothes, and didn’t participate in extracurricular activities that required a huge investment of time and money on their part. And most of the time, I was kind, patient, generous, and uncomplaining. My parents should be darn thankful they ended up with a kid like me.

          Somewhere along the way after attaining adulthood, though, something happened. I became more self-centered and anxious, and more focused on things and achievements and the opinions of other people of me. As I matured, I became more immature.

          That didn’t just happen to me, apparently. In the workplace I’ve witnessed people who have been professionals in their field for decades acting like spoiled little brats. In a previous institution of higher learning where I worked, there was a small yet vocal contingent of faculty that made no secret of their discomfort with and disapproval of the particular student population I was assigned to serve. Some of them acted as if the sandbox had been taken over by the new kids on the block, and they weren’t going to stand for it, so they pouted and cried and stomped their feet, complaining to “daddy” in the president’s office, not acknowledging that the new kids might actually be fun to play with if given the chance. But they were too focused on deciding who was worthy to be in the sandbox in the first place, playing an “us vs them” game of exclusion and alienation. Needless to say, their attitudes didn’t make those new kids feel very welcomed.

          And I observed similar behaviors from so-called adults in other places, too. Church is one of the worst places for expressions of immaturity; I guess that’s why we’re called the children of God and not the adults of God. People complain about the state of the kitchen, or the condition of the floors, or that the coffee is too weak or too strong. They gripe about how a certain decision was made and carried out. They pout when they feel their feelings haven’t been taken into consideration, when their money (that they have supposedly offered to God already) isn’t being spent in the way they think it should be, when the sermon is too long or too short or doesn’t resonate with them, when they don’t like the style of music, when there’s a glitch in the flow of the service…and the list goes on. Sometimes I think the toddlers should stay in the sanctuary for worship and praise, and anyone over the age of twelve should retreat to the nursery to cry and poop and fight over toys.

          And all this griping and complaining and whining goes on while people around the world are being killed simply for being who they are: ethnic and faith groups in the Middle East and Iraq; young African American men right here in our own country; people caught in the crossfire between political rivals in Eastern Europe; young girls in Nigeria; gay and lesbian people in Africa and the Middle East. While we, the people of God, complain about the style of worship or the strength of our coffee or the administrative practices of our denominations, other people who are just as important to God are suffering in real, life-or-death situations. Shame on us.

          I think as children we have a natural connection with the Divine. For many years I have wondered philosophically, “If our souls exist after we die, then did they exist before we were born?” Many who believe in reincarnation would say yes, but that’s not exactly what I’m talking about here. To me, to die and go to Heaven is to be reunited with God in a purely spiritual sense. So, was my soul with God before I was born? And if so, did I as a child have some sort of spiritual memory of that union that was later corrupted by maturity, by my knowledge of sin, or all of the actions and attitudes that we name as evil in the world?

          Yes, children can be selfish; they can cry and pout when they don’t get their way. They sometimes don’t want to share or play nicely. They can be suspicious of strangers (not always a bad thing, mind you). But they can also be very nonjudgmental, happy for no particular reason, engaged with the world around them with a sense of wonder and curiosity and openness that is enviable. They live in the moment, holding no grudges over past hurts and harboring no fear for the future.

          Maybe that’s why Jesus said that we have to become like little children to enter the realm of Heaven. To me, that has nothing whatsoever to do with a city with streets paved in gold, descending from the clouds to serve as a home for the faithful (however one defines that) and no one else. Rather, it means a state of being, of accepting the realm of God into our hearts so that we can live life more abundant and free in the here and now. It means loving and accepting other people as small children do, before they’ve grown old enough to learn the destructive ways of thinking and doing from the adults in their lives. It means letting go of grudges and hurts and other burdens that keep us from experiencing that abundant and free life. And it means forgiving ourselves as well as others in order to move on unencumbered to be a whole, healthy child of God.

          Boy, that level of immaturity really takes a lot of hard work! Being child-like without being childish is tricky, especially for adults who have had more time in life to be corrupted by the negative, selfish influences in both their outer and inner worlds. I see this in myself, now that I’m over fifty. The farther I get from childhood, the harder it becomes to connect with that inner child. But he’s still in there in my head, somewhere, telling me to grow up without growing up, to be responsible and conscientious without losing my innocence and my joy and my ability to be thankful for simple things. He’s the child who feels happy with those who are happy, and offers comfort to those in distress. He doesn’t drag the past around, and he doesn’t worry about the future. He lets other kids play in his sandbox, and shares his toys, and doesn’t take the last cookie for himself. He is the model child of God, and it may take a lifetime to emulate him. And that’s OK; the point is to never stop trying.

The Call to Love Includes the Mentally Ill

          When I learned of the death of actor and comedian Robin Williams two days ago, my heart ached. I grew up watching Mork and Mindy, and I saw many of his films. And who can forget that memorable, manic voice of the Genie in Disney’s Aladdin? Most recently I watched every episode of his short-lived series The Crazy Ones, enjoying his comedy and his commentary on mental illness and addiction. I wonder if, in some way, that series was autobiographical, to some degree? In the show, he played a genius advertising executive who was a recovering alcoholic and addict, running his agency with the help of his mildly neurotic daughter and three young protégés, each with their own quirks. The series was both hilariously funny and tragically sad at the same time, perhaps like Mr. Williams’ life. And the sadness surrounding his death was all the heavier because this gifted, big-hearted man committed suicide.

          The outpouring of public sympathy has been remarkable. He was a very well-liked man, obviously. But some of the response, much of it from so-called “Christians” sadly, has been vile and despicable. Some of these people claim that Mr. Williams was a coward for choosing suicide. Yes, he made a choice. Everything we do is a choice. We are not automatons running on cruise control. God gave us free will, one of the traits that makes humans reflect the image of God. Our brains are constantly working and processing, forming neural pathways that make associations that lead to thoughts that spur actions.

However, making choices requires judgment, and things beyond our control can impair our judgment. Mr. Williams was diagnosed as bipolar. That means he experienced extreme mood swings from mania to depression. According to webmd.com [http://www.webmd.com/bipolar-disorder/guide/bipolar-disorder-symptoms-types], mania symptoms include “…excessive happiness, excitement, irritability, restlessness, increased energy, less need for sleep, racing thoughts, high sex drive, and a tendency to make grand and unattainable plans.” The depression symptoms described on the website include “…sadness, anxiety, irritability, loss of energy, uncontrolled crying, change in appetite causing weight loss or gain, increased need for sleep, difficulty making decisions, and thoughts of death or suicide.” There is a spectrum of bipolar disorder, from mild to extreme. Like many sufferers of other mental illnesses, some people diagnosed as bipolar self-medicate with drugs and/or alcohol.

People who suffer from mental illness are no more in control of their conditions than people suffering from physical illnesses. So to claim that a person who has been medically diagnosed with a mental illness and who completes suicide is a coward for making such a choice is ignorant and ill-informed at best, and callous and mean-spirited at worst. Those who have struggled with bipolar disorder themselves and survive on a day-to-day basis know from personal experience how heavy the burden of despair can be, how their self-esteem and sense of self-worth can drop to rock bottom. They also know how terribly frightening life can be in the middle of a manic episode, and if not frightening, how awful it is to suddenly drop down from the high of an unexplainable and uncontrollable happiness. Bipolar disorder is a mental roller coaster ride that never stops. And when a person gets so tired of the ride, tragically sometimes the only way off that they can comprehend is death.

It royally pisses me off to hear or read the words of people who claim to be followers of Christ—the reconciler of the world to God, the bringer of the Good News, the lover of our souls—judging and criticizing the mentally ill, claiming that they could control their thoughts and their actions if only they would “get right with God.” Let me ask them this: Are the physically ill not right with God because they are ill? Is all illness, physical or mental, a punishment from God for the sufferer’s wrongdoing?

In my opinion, God has blessed us all to be born in a day and time when we have medical professionals and scientists who help us understand the world we live in and the beings we are. No longer do we exile lepers to the wilderness because they are “unclean.” No more do we burn people at the stake because they suffer from a condition we cannot explain. We do not hide the mentally and physically impaired away in asylums because it makes us uncomfortable to see them (we do, however, very often cast them to the streets and leave them to fend for themselves). We have more access to information than ever before in human history. Information leads to knowledge, and knowledge helps us find the truth.

And the truth is that there are people who cannot help how they are. We who claim to be followers of the way of Christ are not called to judge or condemn, but to love. Robin Williams was loved by many, and I’m sure he knew that, but I wonder if anyone who ever claimed to be a follower of Christ helped him know that God loved him? Or did they only offer judgment and criticism because of his addiction problems? And for some people, might it be possible that, even though they know in their hearts that God loves them, still their brains are incapable of breaking the patterns of thought that are biologically influenced?

God has free will, too. And God doesn’t choose to heal everybody. Just ask anyone who has lost a child to leukemia or cancer or AIDS. I’m sure many of them prayed fervently for their child’s healing, yet it seems that God turned a deaf ear. I personally don’t believe that. The God I know hears everything and understands every pain and knows every detail of every molecule in every human being that ever was, is, and will be. The God I know also knows a whole lot more than I do, and sees the big picture much clearer and wider than I can. So I have to believe that God chooses not to heal every sufferer of mental illness, too, for whatever reasons known only to God. All I know is that God expects me to love and not judge, to seek to understand rather than to explain, to grieve with the grieving and rejoice with the rejoicing. Maybe some people are allowed to suffer so that people like me will learn empathy and compassion, not judgment and condemnation.

Robin Williams’ brain chemistry might have been messed up, but according to many people who met and knew him, he was a kind-hearted, gentle spirit who made people laugh and even became friends with a gorilla (just Google “Robin Williams and Koko” and you’ll learn what I’m referring to here). I’m sure God was very sad that Mr. Williams made the choice that he did, and I’m also sure God knows very well—better than any of us—why Mr. Williams made such a choice. None of us knows why; we cannot know because we cannot get inside the heads of other people and know their thoughts and feelings as if we are they. But God can. God understands pain and suffering because God experienced it through Jesus, who neither judged nor condemned the ill and the outcast, but only loved them, bringing healing to their hearts and hope to their souls. I’m sorry it seems that Mr. Williams didn’t feel that sense of inner healing and hope; or perhaps he did at one time, but his infirmity got in the way. I don’t know, and neither do the Internet trolls out there who are showing such hateful and mean attitudes. So maybe we should all just shut up and let Mr. Williams rest in peace, finally.

If you suffer from any of the symptoms of bipolar disorder described previously, I implore you to seek help. Look online or in your phone book for your local mental health crisis services. If you are having thoughts of death or suicide, call 9-1-1 immediately. If someone you know displays bipolar or other mental health symptoms, please do not be afraid to talk to that person about how they feel. The conversation could save their life.