Wednesday, December 29, 2010

Call Me Scrooge!

Poor Scrooge! Despite being "redeemed every year" as his timeless story is told and re-told (and Disney's new 3-D, animated version is a surprisingly fresh and faithful rendering), he just can't seem to shake the bad rap. To be called a Scrooge today, for example, undoubtedly means you're tight-fisted with buck - as I know I can be, to my shame. But I do wonder (as I wander), will the name of Scrooge forever be associated with his past sins - even though his story ends so gloriously?:

"Many laughed to see this alteration in him, but he let them laugh and little heeded them. His own heart laughed and that was quite enough for him. And it was always said of him that he knew how to keep Christmas well, if any man alive possessed the knowledge."

I want to be that Scrooge! I mean, think of it. The very sight of him - which once elicited shudders and chills - now brings others deep joy and delight! How inviting is that?!

But perhaps the greater irony concerning Scrooge has to do with his first name, Ebenezer, which is I'm guessing why Dickens chose it.  Following the pattern of many good words from antiquity, Ebenezer once enjoyed a better past. Long before all the negative Scrooge connotations, the Hebrew word originally came from the Israelites setting up a commemorative stone (literally, "a stone of help," see I Samuel 7:12-14). The idea was they could look at it and remember God's preserving grace to them in the past, and thus be encouraged for the present and the future. Kind of like Scrooge needing those three visitations before he could celebrate.

But why a memorial stone, or stars (for Abraham), or bread and wine? Why Christmas movies, and carols, and gifts? Apparently God knew the Israelites, much like Scrooge (and me) were prone to forgetting certain key things - really important things like past grace, and His future promise to care. And so God graciously gives to us Ebenezers, or physical remembrances, because while it's true that faith comes by hearing (Rom. 10:17), God throws in seeing, tasting, and touching as a bonus, added means to spark off our celebrations.

Christmas then, like good counseling, is in large part about helping us remember - or maybe even learn for the first time - that an outrageously gracious God has come to heal twisted pasts, and to bring us joy. Like the surprise gift you never expected, God wants to surprise even you with unimaginable and healing grace, so that you will be set free to really know, love and enjoy him.

So what are three "Ebenezers" that a better Scrooge and Christmastime helps us remember, so that we may celebrate well this year?

Ghost of Christmas Past (Ebenezer stone #1):  Your past story matters immensely, but it need not define you (i.e., make you a crotchety Scrooge forever).

In the original Carol, Dickens wisely gives us glimpses of a young Ebenezer, and we are saddened by the sheer amount of brokenness. There he sits, alone at school. We then learn that his mother died giving birth to him, which likely (and sadly) accounts for his father's relational coldness - a trait he not surprisingly comes to follow. His beloved sister Fan also dies in childbirth, bearing his nephew Fred. So when Ebenezer turns for rescue, as we often do, to the illusory "safety" of making money (his "golden idol" of choice), sacrificing the prospect of a loving marriage in the process, we see clearly where pain and bitterness can take us.

Like all of us, Scrooge is clearly a victim, but also a victimizer. But how much do we take pride in wearing these labels - "I'm an adult survivor of ________ (fill in the blank)?" Here is where the story, like our persistent God, surprises us. For like the three visitors, God Himself wants to get our attention long enough to hear him say, "No, that is not your true identity - if you let me surprise you with my visitation. His name is Immanuel, God with us, and His past included a manger and a cross, followed by an empty tomb." So now, if you meet and really get to know this living Jesus, as Sinclair Ferguson notes, "His past now becomes your past." Beloved child, son or daughter, becomes your new and better name. But how is this possible, you ask?

Ghost of Christmas Present (Ebenezer stone #2):  Jesus can teach you to love - and rescue you when you don't.

I always love the scene when Scrooge is cut to the heart by peering in on the Cratchit's humble yet loving home - just what he (and we) needed to convict our hearts about our failures in love! In the same way, do you really think you can learn to love without seeing God's grace in action - without seeing the real point of the manger and cross? The important "Ebenezer" here is that trying to give yourself a new law to "just go out and love" will only leave you powerless and sad, crying out like Scrooge to Marley, "Speak words of comfort to me, Jacob!" (At this point the Law will also answer, "I have none to give.") You can't do it! That's the whole point of Jesus coming at Christmas. God's commands to love are meant to serve as a mirror in which we gaze long enough to see our dirty faces (hearts), leading us to seek after (cry out for) the soap, the cleansing blood of Christ:

So the law was put in charge to lead us to Christ that we might be justified by faith. (Galatians 3:24)
and
...the only thing that counts is faith expressing itself through love. (Galatians 5:6)

Only as we turn from ourselves to look (and rest) in Christ, are we then empowered anew to love.

Moralism and legalism, along with good intentions, weren't born in the manger - but they were crucified on the cross. So try this Gospel remedy to counteract your tendency to run back to legalism, as the old preacher McCheyne suggested: for every one look at your sin, take ten at Christ. The loving Christ of Christmas - given for you - is your present substitute and cleansing, not just your past or future Savior.

Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come (Ebenezer stone #3): God holds your future! (Better yet, God is your future)

Further, understand that what you do right now, at this very moment, matters for the future. I love the film versions of A Christmas Carol which show a humbled Scrooge, upon having immediately secured the prize turkey for the Cratchit's Christmas feast, in worship on Christmas morning, singing. So start by cranking up some good Christmas carols, and take the opportunity to sit and listen closely to the words: Hark, the Herald Angels Sing (the one the new Scrooge usually sings) is unparalleled for its Gospel truth. I'm also reminded of a dear friend who had her own "visitation" with a line in O Holy Night (the line was "Till he appeared and the soul felt its worth." Very cool). Christmas Carols make an awesome Ebenezer. But you must learn to be still and listen (Ps. 46:10). But then don't just be still. Break out, like Scrooge on Christmas morning, and dance and sing. Then I'll call you Scrooge too, and together we'll say,
God bless us, everyone!

(Movie note: I had a great time with my teen-age son watching the latest Disney version of A Christmas Carol, 3-D glasses and all. The film is surprisingly scary, however, so those with small kids may want to take note! Enjoy, and Merry Christmas!)


Sunday, June 13, 2010

Your Greatest Nightmare

There’s a tremendously motivating theme of our existence – particularly germane to counseling - which is often missed in Christian circles, especially those which focus almost exclusively on guilt and forgiveness (important though each may be). But it’s a theme that comes through loud and clear in Scripture, and also in a quirky but endearing Cameron Crowe movie called Elizabethtown (2005 Paramount Pictures). As the film reveals, the theme of shame seems to touch almost every area of life – but mostly our relationships.

One particular scene revealing this theme of shame is especially poignant. Traveling “back home” to attend to the funeral arrangements of his father, Drew Baylor (Orlando Bloom) meets a happily persistent flight attendant (played delightfully by Kirsten Dunst). Their ensuing relationship leads Drew to a moment of confession: what she doesn’t know is that he’s a “spectacular failure,”- thanks to a hugely unpopular and costly sneaker design that hits the skids - to the tune of almost a billion dollars.

As Drew bleeds out his bleak news (his “dark appointment with destiny”) to Claire – news which will hit the newspaper stands the very next day - he wonders how he might, in fact, disappear. (There’s a particularly funny attempt to do away with himself earlier in the film, but even in this, he’s a failure). Unable because of his shame to pursue his interest in Claire, Drew sees his very existence through the lens of his failure, stating “that’s my secret. That’s who I am.”

Shame, it seems, is like that, isn’t it? Not only does it dig it’s sharp claws into our very soul, wrenching our enjoyment of others right out of life, it seems to attach itself to who we are – our very identity. We feel as if hiding, or disappearing from the gaze of others, is the only option. No wonder Sartre called shame a “hemorrhaging of the soul.”

The Beginnings of Shame
Elizabethtown rightly pictures shame as intensely relational – an experience primarily involving another’s eyes. When Genesis first pictures Adam and Eve as “naked and without shame,” (Gen. 2:25) we get the idea that in each other’s original gaze, there was nothing but complete and utter acceptance, a purity of love. Can we imagine such a state? Absolute harmony, with God and man.Surely this made for enjoyment in their looking, both at each other and all the beauty God had made. And just as the refrain is repeated throughout all creation, for this first couple, it was truly “all good.” (Notice too how our essential dignity is also established, (fashioned in “His image”), answering that first question of all questions – “who are we, really?”

Our place in the universe then is not accidental, but intentional and immediately relational - made to know and reflect our Father. Our counseling goal, to reestablish relationship with God our maker, is clearly established from the first three chapters of Scripture.) But it’s what we do next that becomes the real issue.

CS Lewis, in his space-novel Perelandra, pictures in a unique way what transpires – albeit, on a fictional planet. In Lewis’s world, it’s as if the Tempter handed a mirror to the woman, so that she might gaze inward - at herself. Here on earth, however, the lie is literally spoken: she could be independent. (Adam is of course, quite culpable – he wimped out on crushing the serpent and protecting his wife.)

Then the lie then grows even more sinister: Eve and her husband could be as God himself, knowing not only the beauty of good, but now also the agony of adultery, the poison of pride, and the despair of death. (Did we really need to know that?) Realizing their nakedness of soul, our first parents sought to cover their shame and rebellion with flimsy “fig-leaves” of their own design. In so doing, they reveal two more crucial aspects of shame: a sense of exposure, and blame-shifting. No longer is there a joy in “being known.” The only recourse is to hide, to try to deflect and control each other’s gaze, and (sadly) to make each other the problem in order to salvage some sense of self.

More Than Forgiveness
All of us need desperately to be forgiven.  But is it possible that we now actually need more than God’s forgiveness – as essential as that is? Like Drew Baylor, it’s not merely that we occasionally fail (a sense of guilt) with poor choices. What is also true is that we are in fact failures - at our very center. Have we not all felt this?

Dan Allender relates the story of a boy who was sent out to the store by a teacher to buy napkins for his class. He returns with a huge box of sanitary napkins, completely unaware of his mistake. The teacher’s face, as well as the laughter of his classmates, causes him to want to disappear in horror. Will he ever want to volunteer his service again?

We can all relate to such stories. Someone lies about us, and our reputation is crushed. We want to retreat, to build walls of perfectionism and protection so that it never happens again.  We mess up big time (like Drew), and are exposed as "inadequate." Or perhaps the shame is dreadfully cast on us by another, such as in sexual abuse. A young girl is molested, killing her deep longings to be wanted by anyone ever again. All of the sudden her own body – once a beautiful flower unfolding – becomes an object to be despised. After all, it seemed to get her into trouble, and bring shame. For her, intimacy equals pain and shame, so why bother? Avoid being known and loved by another, at all costs.

A Refuge for Our Shame
But what if we were truly known, exposed before someone whose eyes truly matter, yet still loved? Here is where Claire shines in the film, in a moment of grace that disarms Drew:

“Do you think I care about that [his failure]?  …You want to be really great? Then have the courage to fail big and stick around…make ‘em wonder why you’re still smiling. That’s true greatness to me…”

Where does such courage to "stick around," even smile at ourselves, really come from?

As we look for the grace of God revealed in Scripture – centered particularly on One who would come and crush the Tempter’s shameful head – we see a wonderful promise revealed:

Do not be afraid; you will not suffer shame. Do not fear disgrace; you will not be humiliated. You will forget the shame of your youth.” (Isaiah 54:4)

But how, we say? Consider what this Rescuer does. Two thousand years ago, on a Roman cross, he becomes humiliated – naked for all to see. Imagine it! What would you feel if you were paraded naked through a city, then raised up, abused and bleeding, for all to see? But it’s not actually for himself that this shame is upon him – it’s for you. It’s your shame he bore, yours and mine. He does it so, as David said:

"No one whose hope is in you will ever be put to shame.” (Psalm 25:3)

So what’s your greatest nightmare? Whatever it is, it’s not remedied in self-protection. Not found in the “safety” of disengaging. It’s remedied only in being known, being seen by the most important eyes in the universe, and yet loved in His Son. It’s healed in embracing a new identity – beloved son or daughter. He takes your shame, and you wear the clothes of royalty. And the good news is, these "Emperor's new clothes" are real.

So you are free now to confess now what you really are. When you find yourself retreating in shame again, ask him to tear down your walls of safety, so that you can actually breathe his free air. And He will. And as He does, you will find healing for your shame beyond your wildest dreams.

Friday, May 14, 2010

The Two Things You Want Most

Escape into reality - that’s what a good book or film does for me. If it’s really good it makes me ask, “Isn’t life like that?” “Isn’t that beautiful, or true of relationships?” “Isn’t love just impossible, but when touched by grace, so worth it in the end?” Whether its a comedy that pokes at the absurdity and sadness of pretentious, selfish relationships (like the recent Ghost-Town movie), and then is able to melt your heart with the surprise of redemption, or a drama that marvelously hints at a hidden hand of Providence operating in the midst of our brokenness (Slum-dog Millionaire), stories and films can counsel our hearts and ask some great questions. (Yes, they can also be a whole lot of fun too – and that’s not at all bad, as CS Lewis noted).

Take the recent Rachel Getting Married film, now out on dvd, starring Anne Hathaway (written by Jenny Lumet and directed by Jonathan Demme). Watching this film with my wife and son was literally like being flies on the wall at a family week-end wedding party, where every detail – like life itself - had the potential to reveal some new aspect of brokenness and grace. The purposeful “camcorder” feel created by the hand-held camera work was also especially effective, bringing us (the “party guests”) up close and personal with a family that turns out to be not too unlike ours - trying desperately to figure out how love and relationships can look in a broken yet glorious world.

What does this have to do with counseling? Everything! Our lives are a story, unfolding every moment, pregnant with meaning. The details matter. Good questions help reveal them: What happened to you? What did you think/do about it? How are you now seeing yourself, others, and God in the middle of all this? Who (or what) are you really hoping in now? What are your struggles and joys?

Rachel Getting Married works as a film and a mirror for truth because it effectively reveals a world where each person’s heart has both a history and the wonderful opportunity for redemption. And like all of us, the characters are busy grappling with (as counselor and author Dan Allender notes) two great and motivating heart-desires: Who will love me? and (often), How can I get my own way? Think about it. Aren’t those two desires the source of most of the drama in your own life?

We’re All Addicted
How do those two questions take shape for each of us, especially in the kind of world that Rachel portrays? In a world where we battle with our own addictions (call them idols of the heart), just as Kym (played with wonderful realism in the film by Hathaway) battles with hers? It may not be the more dramatic addictions to alcohol, drugs, or sex, but the same root motivations and questions lie behind our quests for acceptance, comfort, and significance. Our lives may indeed look different on the outside, but inside, the situation has many similarities. This is because all of us long to respond in adoration to someone or something; to be swept up, dazzled, and “blown away.” It’s how we’re made.

Romans 1 clarifies this heart desire by explaining that our desire will either be wrapped around a glorious Creator, and enjoying His world in thankfulness to Him, or it will be something we’ve turned to in creation – whether a person, food, sex, etc.  But to the extent that you and I believe the lie that only some people are addicts – you know, the ones who really need rehab (like Kym, and the others at Narcotics Anonymous) we’ve missed the boat about grace. As screenwriter Jenny Lumet said in a recent interview with Glide magazine,

“…Some people are addicted to information – there are people who can’t leave their house without their Blackberry. I know a lot of people who are just addicted to plain old drama. Like, how about a nice non-dramatic day? No, no!”

To Be Loved
So where do you tend to look for your desire for love, for acceptance, for approval? In the film, and in life, it is the desire to be loved when we’re at our very worst which catches us up short. Plagued with guilt over how her addictions contributed to the drowning death of her brother, Kym attends a Narcotics Anonymous meeting. When she finally speaks, one line is particularly illuminating:

“I struggle with God so much…and sometimes I don't want to believe in a God that could forgive me. But I do want to be sober...”

What does Kym really want? Behind the swirling mix of wounded pride, guilt, and destructive behavior, lies the prospect of actual forgiveness and complete acceptance – to be a “maid of honor.” And yet, how could God actually forgive an addict and a murderer, and still be a good God? Isn’t that really the question for us as well? Maybe it’s because we want to see ourselves in a better light than as “murderers of God” (since it is our sin that necessitates Christ to bear our guilt and die) that we choose all our “God- substitutes.” Are you really telling me I can't fix it myself?

Exactly. But here, to our great surprise, is where the scandal of grace is best seen. While we’re busy seeking our own saviors that will somehow absolve us (or at least help us forget for awhile), Jesus offers to throw us a party – the likes of which we’ve never seen! At this party (as in the film) are all the freaks, the outcasts, the spiritually lame. And still bearing his own wounds of love, he welcomes each one!

“Come, all you who are thirsty…and you who have no money, come, buy and eat! Come buy wine and milk, without money, and without cost. Why spend money on what is not bread, and your labor on what does not satisfy? Listen, listen to me, and eat what is good, and your soul will delight in the richest of fare.” ~ Isaiah 55:1,2

The real scandal here is that the cost has already been paid by none other than God Himself. And He does it to love you - yes, even you. Counseling needs this truth at the very center, for it is the only valid answer to the cry of our soul: who will love me? The cross is indeed the place where "God’s justice and mercy kiss," and we are healed – again and again. And surprise - you are invited to this banquet of grace!

Do You Really Want Your Own Way?
You see, if we got our own way, you and I would opt for a self-salvation program. Many addicts do, which is why “the program” now becomes the new idol. (This is not to knock programs, but if they don’t lead to the banquet of grace in Christ, they’ve missed the boat.) However, we certainly need a family around us – spiritual brothers and sisters to help shoulder the burden of change for us, to keep us accountable, and away from what one counselor has called “a banquet in the grave.” Like Kym’s family, that family of grace called “the church” won’t be perfect (they’re fellow addicts too, just perhaps in different ways) but the more they keep their eyes on the wedding feast of grace, the closer we will all be to true celebration.

And that’s why this film becomes for us a great insight for counseling. Life - as it can be in Christ - is really about moving away from the lies that want to kill us (think of the moment where Kym wants to drive her car into a tree) and toward a wedding celebration – it’s the very purpose of history. It’s the purpose of your personal history. Your deep sorrows, your many tears will give way to laughter and incredible joy. You will, in fact, want to dance at this wedding celebration – like you’ve never danced before. But you will first show up, like Kym, battered and bruised, to let Christ wash you.

As the film ends, we're caught up in this most unlikely celebration. Everything isn’t perfect yet (life is still a battle for Kym), but there is now hope. The same is true for us: one day in the future, your heart will know what you’ve longed for all along. Just like the moment in a wedding when the bride is given to the bridegroom, you will know true joy, and will sit down to a banquet. So live right now in the hope of that great celebration. In fact, try celebrating grace right now, and in so doing, find the best answers for those two questions you and I are always asking.

(Note: Rachel Getting Married is Rated R for sex, drug use, and emotional violence. Like any film that seeks an accurate portrayal of addiction in a fallen world, these elements ought not surprise us. However, parents should certainly take this information into account before viewing with their children.)