The Gospel in the Fault in Our Stars

I just read The Fault in Our Stars for the first time. I haven't seen the movie. The story's been hyped-up; my expectations were extremely high from over a year of positive media attention. Though it contains more beautifully-written passages than a typical YA novel, this book did not make me emote. I didn't have many strong feelings while reading it, and I didn't shed any tears, even though I feel things almost constantly, cry somewhat often in general, and the main thing I knew about it going in is that this book is supposed to break your heart and make you weep. So why didn't I cry? I decided it was because I cannot really relate to Hazel, the narrator. Her view on the world seems pretty diametrically opposed to mine. I wonder if 16-year-old me would have appreciated her extreme cynicism more. I'm sure I would've, since at that time I was being steeped in worldly ideas about sex and relationships, two relevant areas that I find little common ground with Hazel.

Throughout the book, Hazel makes much of the fact that believing in God is super stupid. She mocks religion, Christianity, encouragement, hope, and the Christian leader of her support group, who she thinks is sad and pathetic. But then when her own beliefs are revealed, they contradict her cynicism. First, she calls her father "fairly smart" when he says, "I believe the universe wants to be noticed. I think the universe is improbably biased toward consciousness, that it rewards intelligence in part because the universe enjoys its elegance being observed. And who am I, living in the middle of history, to tell the universe that it--or my observation of it--is temporary?"

Later, Hazel says, "I was thinking about the universe wanting to be noticed, and how I had to notice it as best I could. I felt that I owed a debt to the universe that only my attention could repay, and also that I owed a debt to everybody who didn't get to be a person anymore and everyone who hadn't gotten to be a person yet."

This is about the best secular retelling of the Gospel I've ever heard. I realize that's a total oxymoron. The Gospel cannot be inferred (that's why we have the Bible--to put the necessary words to the story), but God's existence can be, if someone is open-minded as they observe nature and the large questions in the heart of humanity. "Owing a debt of attention to the universe" skips some crucial steps in the truth, but broadly speaking, there's overlap. Hazel's theory includes these aspects of the Gospel:

1. We are not self-made; we can and should give back and give forward.
2. Our value and our salvation are not in the work of our hands, not in what we can produce or bring about externally.
3. The path to bridging an unbridgeable gap of debt between ourselves and eternity begins with a mental shift and putting our attention in the right place.
4. There is a higher personal force out there that wants something from us; only persons "want," "reward," and "enjoy."

These two Bible verses (from the NIV) illustrate some of the overlap: "However, to the one who does not work but trusts God who justifies the ungodly, their faith is credited as righteousness." (Romans 4:5). The word "credit" directly ties in with Hazel's term "debt." Attention is much more like trust and faith than it is like work. In a similar fashion, Jesus said, "The work of God is this: to believe in the one he has sent." (John 6:29) Keeping our eyes on Jesus (paying attention to Him) is the alpha and omega of living as a believer. Not paying attention to Jesus is the only sure way to avoid having our debt repaid. Jesus, in whom all things hold together (Colossians 1:17), which kind of sounds like the way a non-believer would understand the universe, which has its etymological origin in the Latin word for "all things."

Hazel's mention of owing a debt to other people, those who have gone before and those to come, sounds like the communion of saints, as well as Biblical commands to love one's neighbors. Romans 13:8 (NIV) explicitly uses the word "debt," saying "Let no debt remain outstanding, except the continuing debt to love one another, for whoever loves others has fulfilled the law." I think Hazel would agree that remembering someone who has died is an act of love toward that person. And I think she's saying that living well for the sake of those who cannot is an act of love, too. What other way would there be to pay a debt owed to both the dead and the not-yet alive?

To say the universe enjoys its elegance being observed reminds me of our call to praise God continually for who He is, which is partly seen through all His works, like nature and our elegant universe, not to mention humanity and the beauty of the human spirit. To say God wants to be noticed by us is an understatement. He wants and deserves to be outright worshiped. But the seed of the truth is present in Hazel's dad's comments.

When Hazel's dad asks, "Who am I... to tell the universe?" I completely agree. There's so much arrogance built in to a worldview that categorically denies higher intelligence than humans. Until we've lived forever and seen it all (and even the most staunch atheist/humanist in their right mind would not claim humans have always existed), let's not make statements as though we have the ability to know we're the smartest beings in the universe. Yuck, I feel gross just considering that. Humans can be very intelligent, yes, and wonderful at times, but who would even want to live in a universe where we, greedy, self-centered, short-sighted, lazy, irritable, forgetful, close to electing Donald Trump as the ruler of the free world, are the highest form of all existence?

In conclusion, I'm not sure what the author was going for. Maybe he realizes all this and it was intentional. I was simply struck by the incongruity between what Hazel openly scorns and what she seems to believe deep down, an incongruity of which she seems perfectly unaware.

What's in a PC Name?

I think I figured out why the politically correct name for things changes kind of often. If we spoke kindly and lovingly of people groups, if the word for "those people" sounded like a grateful sigh in our mouths instead of something bitter or disgusting, there would be no need for changes. The terms wouldn't be considered derogatory. But instead, each term gathers negative associations as people use it disparagingly and link it to unpleasant newspaper headlines and unflattering scientific studies and controversial legislation, or simply to people they wish to insult.

Each societal group wants to be widely embraced (except for nonconformists or something, probably). In order to have the chance to be loved by all, the name by which they identify has to be free of the stain of connotations, the scent of scandal and disapproval. Thus, a new name is needed often. But you can't get rid of people's opinions just by changing the name of the situation, so fresh negative connotations build up and all too quickly it's time for a new change of name.

My dad used to tell me all the time about how the words moron and idiot (among others) used to simply indicate different levels of intellectual capacity. I know it's hard to imagine now, but they weren't disrespectful, and according to Wikipedia, there are still laws on the books today that prevent "idiots" from voting in Ohio, Kentucky, and other states.

I found these definitions on Wikipedia:
"Idiot indicated the greatest degree of intellectual disability, where the mental age is two years or less... The term was gradually replaced by the term profound mental retardation (which has itself since been replaced by other terms)"
"Imbecile indicated an intellectual disability less extreme than idiocy... It is now usually subdivided into two categories, known as severe intellectual disability and moderate intellectual disability"
"Moron was defined... as the term for an adult with a mental age between eight and twelve; mild intellectual disability is now the term for this condition."

"Retarded" used to be the most respectful term to use. It literally means "slowed down," which is not such a bad way to think of it in my opinion; we all travel at our own pace and "slow" doesn't necessarily mean "unsuccessful"--think of the tortoise and the hare. But people used the word "retarded" to describe whatever they disapproved of until it came to mean, more or less, "bad/stupid," and as a result it's extremely politically incorrect.

You cannot enforce kindness and respect by external means, and therefore it seems unlikely that this constant language-morphing will ever stop coming. I do think it's valuable to make a point of person-centered language, as it is a reminder of someone's humanity: their identity as a human before anything else. "Idiot," "imbecile," and "moron" were not replaced by new identifying nouns, but instead new terms to be used in conjunction with a personal word like child, person, woman, or man.

If I knew where to find a gold mine...

When I discover something wonderful, I want to share it with my friends. Honestly, with everyone I know. Last week I got a free pair of brand-new pants at a store and I posted to Facebook as soon as I got back to my car just to tell everyone I knew in hopes they could benefit as well. This was a no-brainer because everyone likes to save money. I wasn't worried about offending anyone by offering this helpful tip.

Unfortunately, there are several more important areas where the truth is even more wonderful, but I stay quiet or hesitant instead of sharing because I am unsure how my words will be received. I compare lots of things to the Gospel. Whenever the truth is countercultural and takes a bit more work and intention, but yields something much greater in the long run, I label it, "this is just like the Gospel!" The latest of these for me is eating Paleo*. If I know something that would give my friends drastically better health, better sleep, higher and more stable energy levels, improved mood, a healthy body weight, and several more benefits, shouldn't I eagerly tell them all about it? Wouldn't it be, on some level, unloving to conceal this information when it's well within my reach to share it out? Yet, like sharing the Gospel, I am afraid that one mention of my eating Paleo to someone could feel like judgment or pressure.

I admit that I can't know that eating Paleo would work best for everyone: food allergies and all that. But I feel strongly enough that there is some absolute truth when it comes to eating well to push this topic out of the realm of, "Whatever works for you!" to "FYI, everyone: cheese danishes are never good for you under any circumstances other than starvation!" I admit I can be an absolute thinker. Someone asked me tonight if I thought eating a 100-calorie pack of cookies was an improvement on eating a full box of cookies, a step toward snacking on carrots. I had to think about my response, which came in the form of an analogy: "I feel like that's asking someone who thinks sex belongs in marriage, 'Is it better if someone only has 2 one-night-stands per week instead of 5?'" So you could say that I feel strongly enough on this topic that I am not sure how to nuance it. That makes sharing both more urgent and more challenging, as I try to remain distant and objective and tread lightly.

While I don't know what diet works best for each person, I do know that I lost about 20 pounds and a constant feeling of nausea when I learned that bread is not good for you (the rest came later). Growing up, I was surrounded by large, colorful food pyramid charts for children that put grains, including bread, in the "eat 6-11 servings a day" category. As a result, I thought I was being healthy when I made myself eat my pizza crusts, which I didn't like as much as the cheesy part. It's scary the food lies we're surrounded by. I recently recycled some old pages I'd once saved from Seventeen magazine, all about food. Their reasonable-sounding suggestions were rotten lies, but I hope they meant well. There just isn't as much money in healthy eating. Makers and marketers of processed food have an active interest in making sure people don't eat healthfully, because eating healthfully means avoiding their products! There's not as much money allocated to advertise beets as for fruit roll-ups. I'm just not sure people are aware of these things (how much our environment secretly misleads us); I sure wasn't until just a few years ago.

Growing up, I heard government recommendations that fat is bad for you and fat makes you fat. Actually, healthy fats are good for you and help you stay at a healthy body weight--even if they're saturated. The real science clashes terribly with conventional wisdom and the cultural messages about how you deserve to treat yourself with candy, cake, and alcohol, and if you don't you're super uptight and probably not enjoying your life. Not to mention the several American food holidays like the Super Bowl and Thanksgiving. Eating habits can be deeply ingrained and tend to touch several areas of a person's life and their psyche. I want to be sensitive to those realities but I still can't say, "eat whatever you want, it doesn't matter." I still think it matters a great deal.

I have not yet met someone who was overweight and also consistently eating what I'd consider a healthy diet*. However, I have met multiple people who expressed a desire to weigh less. In the moment that they mention their eating habits to me, it seems unwise or unkind to point out that the foods they think are healthy are actually contributing to poor gut health. Yet isn't it unloving not to? That diet sodas, which are highly addictive, have been definitively linked to obesity, potentially because artificial sweeteners are linked to super intense cravings that can cause overeating. That steamed edamame is, though green and veggie-like, soy and not the healthiest choice. That black beans are hard on the digestive system. That "gluten-free" is not bad, but "grain-free" is drastically healthier. I don't want people to be operating off of false information, like I was for years. Eating healthy is difficult enough without inadvertently sabotaging your own efforts.

In short, America is a confusing place to live when it comes to food messages, but the truth is out there, and lots of people like me are passionate about food and love to share what they know. If you are interested in learning more or hoping to improve your overall health through eating well, I recommend the book It Starts with Food by Melissa and Dallas Hartwig. Their ideas seem extreme to someone who's used to the Standard American Diet (SAD), thus the beneficial results are extreme as well. And if ever I should offer you unwelcome commentary on your diet, please forgive me and know that it's coming from a place of love and passion. I found a gold mine and I am trying to tell you how to get there!





*Paleo, which is to say, veggies/fruit/meat with no grains/dairy/soy/legumes... this is the quick and simple definition.

Red alert

Getting over a breakup, I realized the other day, can be like driving past a parked police car with its flashers on.

Before you get to it, you see it coming, a public admission something's gone terribly wrong.

You brace yourself for the uncertainty of what you'll find as you close in.

You have to go past it. This is the road home.

Once you've passed it by, frenzied blue and red lights dance erratically in your rearview mirror. These are your panicky thoughts: “is this the right thing?” The relationship is behind you, but it still screams, “pay attention to me!”

The effect of the thoughts is like the effect of the lights: you freak out a little on that middle layer where long-term memories (“this is what police flashers mean”/“you’re walking away from a good thing… remember all the good times?”) and animal instincts (“red-blue-red-blue-red-blue-panic-time”/“hugs are warm and I’m cold right now”) meet together.

You invoke your wise mind, your long-term mind, the part of you that is able to remember that it’s really super okay right now and you just need to stay the course a minute and it’s all good and all is well. You don’t have to pull over. You don’t have to stop. You absolutely don't have to turn around. Your present-tense mind can’t remember this for ten straight seconds – the lights are too flashy; after all, they've been engineered to short-circuit you into action. You grip the steering wheel a bit harder and ignore everything your body thinks you know, the shrieked commands your shallowest self is issuing: “pulloverpulloverpulloverrightnow.”

Trust the road.

Your senses don't get final say in everything. If you can manage to just keep driving, no one will follow you.

You may feel threatened, but you are safe.

Does the universe owe you more bridges?

I was reading Exodus 12, the chapter including the tenth and final plague against the Egyptians, whose Pharaoh kept promising to release God's people, the Israelites, from slavery, but then changing his mind.

The final plague was the death of all firstborns, both people and animals, of any families that did not honor the Lord. Obviously, this magnitude of death and the resulting suffering is horrifying. I thought as I read, "this is why some people are offended by the Bible and have trouble believing God is good." I also said to myself, as I have before, "I know God is love and I will trust that He is good as long as I don't have all the answers." After all, believing He is bad or absent while there is so much good and intention in the world takes at least as much faith as believing He is good while there is so much bad around.

When I got to Exodus 12:23, it burst open the whole thing for me. It mentions that God won't allow the destroyer to enter the Israelites' houses and kill their firstborns when they smear blood over their doors. Suddenly I realized the mistake in my thinking. I was reminded of a family member who gets shrill about Jesus, saying, "How could God be so awful as to insist that people do that one specific little thing and if they don't they get sent to hell? I wouldn't even want anything to do with a picky God like that." (The "one thing" referred to is trusting in Jesus for salvation).

But what if it's not that we're all being shoehorned into a specific picky action, but rather that we chose our destruction and there's just one way of escape? If you were drowning in the ocean, would you complain that the only way to be rescued was the one rope dangling from a helicopter, and the man who comes down with it, and that's so narrow-minded and it's not fair that there aren't thousands of equally valid ladders everywhere? Would you fold your arms and turn your back on the rope and rescuer until they learn some tolerance? Would you not be terribly happy that you had a chance to live and not die, and eagerly grab the rope with all your strength?

In Genesis, human beings were given dominion over the whole world. Almost the first thing we did with that power is cave to the lies of a crafty enemy. That enemy has no power to lay a finger on us until we cede the power. So when the first humans sinned by trusting the enemy over God, they were ceding the whole world in their care to his dark intentions. Since that time, the world has been under his influence. We gave it over. Now that we've done so, there are no longer an infinite number of ways to do right and be right with God. In the garden of Eden, there were infinite ways to be with God, minus one. The one way to screw it up was to disobey the single rule that He set for the world that He'd designed and maintained and populated by His power, which was simply not to eat from one tree. Every other tree and plant was fair game. And guess what? We broke that one rule. "You had one job..." And we did not do it. So now the tables have turned. We turned them, and then dare to complain that our freedom is being restricted.

The question should not be, "Why does the Lord allow all this bad stuff to happen?" A better question - more puzzling, in light of the weight of sin and rebellion - is, "Why does the Lord protect so many of us so often?" It's no wonder the world is chaotic; we invited the destroyer to run it! Satan is more powerful than we are, but much less powerful than God. When we honor God and ask His protection, we are safe from Satan and he has no chance against us. When the Israelites obeyed God's command to smear that blood in Exodus, they were enlisting God's strength on their behalf, strength enough to resist the destroyer. Rather than, "Why are the others being destroyed?" a better question is, "How did those others live so long in their brazen defiance of God?" This is God's world, after all. It wasn't intended to be run by Satan, or to be run by rebellious humans who set off on their own way and didn't consult God or listen to Him about how best it would be run. Living with no fear of God is the human's default setting, tacitly inviting the destroyer to run your life. Every moment you're alive and keep being given the strength to shake your fist in God's face is another second of undeserved grace, a temporary suspension of the hell you have acted and thereby asked your way into. Not because God doesn't love you, but because He respects your choices enough to allow you to choose who will have dominion over your life. The thing is that it's never actually you who has that dominion. You may have noticed that you don't have complete mastery over your life. A person has dominion over their own behavior, at least on a good day, but no one directs the course of their life specifically enough as to call it chosen through and through. It's either going to be God or Satan in control, since both of them are more powerful than you and they both lay claim to the whole world, with you in it.