kids and porn

A brief observation about observing

Isn’t it interesting how powerful eye contact is?

Whether we’re sitting across the table from someone, or walking past a stranger at the mall, or even glancing over toward the driver in the next lane at the stop light…there’s something about us that isn’t satisfied with cutting our gaze short at a person’s nose, chin or shoes.

Whether it’s from two feet or 200 yards away–whether that person is dancing, performing a card trick or about to crash into us at the ice-skating rink, it’s in our design to ultimately search for even a flash of communion with those M&M-sized pupils. Inherently, we won’t stop looking until ours find theirs.

It’s not always a comfortable feeling, either. Sometimes, we’ll resist the urge to make eye contact altogether for fear of what kind of emotional response that connection would/could make. More often, we’re so consumed with the screen(s) or whatever task in front of us, that we straight-up miss the opportunities to connect, completely unaware.

But it’s a part of the human condition to connect through our eyes. Usually, we do it without even thinking about it. Whether or not we realize what we’re doing–and whether or not it it’s intentional–eye contact is one of the most validating components of humanity. It’s offering a part of myself–my joy, sadness, hope, frustration..and ALL of my attention–in exchange for a part of someone else.

So simple. So meaningful.

“I long to see you, so that I may impart to you some spiritual gift to make you strong–that is, that you and I may be mutually encouraged by each other’s faith.” – Romans 1:11 (NIV)

Innocence

“To the pure all things are pure, but to those who are defiled and unbelieving nothing is pure; but even their mind and conscience are defiled.” – Titus 1:15

Have you ever found some artifact from your distant past–a book, a souvenir from a family vacation, a CD–and reflected on how much life has changed since you last held that thing in your hands?

When you last read those words, touched the edges of that familiar nic-nac, pressed “Play” on that disc and absorbed the melodies coming from it 10…15…20 years ago, you had some form of worldview of what life was like. You had hopes of what your life would become one day. You hadn’t considered how or when your relationships could or would go away. You had no idea the people you’d meet who would bring you great gladness or open your eyes to beauty. Or introduce you to a pain you wouldn’t dare–or even know how–to imagine.

Sometimes, I’ll come across something–maybe a picture or a note from high school or college–I shake my head and grin as I face that younger me and reflect on how hard I tried to be funny. Or cool. Or anything else that I wasn’t. Can’t say I ever thought I had the world all figured out, but I certainly always wanted it to like me–and worked countless angles to make it so. The world scared me before I even really stepped out into it.

Now, what really makes my heart weigh a few pounds heavier are those pieces from my pre-adolescent-era life. When the only hurt I knew were my parents’ spankings and confirmations that, no, we weren’t going to Chuck-E-Cheese for dinner. So much innocence. Not that I acted innocently–hence the spankings. But I didn’t even know to expect anything out of life outside of countless pick-up baseball games, Little Debbie snacks in my school lunch and agonizing countdowns to overnight trips at the grandparents’.

The last time I read through the pages of a Henry Huggins book was at my son’s age of nine. My kids like me to read about Henry and Ribsy and Ramona Quimby’s adventures out loud, which I’m more than glad to do. Just like my son and seven year-old daughter now, when I last read this story, I didn’t know rejection nor had I ever betrayed anyone who trusted me and broke their hearts.

I hadn’t failed an important test or lost a job…nor lost a loved one…yet.

I hadn’t faced the fear of growing old alone or wondering where the money was going to come from to pay my mortgage.

I didn’t pine for the someone else’s approval of me to affirm that I was OK, in my humanness, as it was.

I hadn’t questioned if God really liked me, much more, loved me.

I hadn’t really messed anything up yet.

And then, for a minute, comes a deep longing to go back to that moment. Before I’d scarred or been scarred. When I read that book or listened to that song free of nagging pains of what my sin has done or what others’ sins have done to me circling my consciousness.

This is all kind of heavy thinking, for sure. Not to back-pedal, but it’s not that I live in this space 24-7. There’s freedom from that sort of misery. And I’m grateful for the journey toward that, fully. But how beautiful is that innocence. The kind I see in my 10 year-old son and seven year-old daughter, yet very much does dwindle away a little by the hour as travelers exposed to the World’s destined-for-death elements.

An author named John A. Ritenbough once wrote:

A well-known series of scriptures, beginning in Matthew 18:1, touches on innocence and its destruction. It starts with a question from the disciples: “Who then is greatest in the kingdom of heaven?” Jesus replies that unless we become as little children, we will not be in the Kingdom of Heaven. Is not the beauty of their innocence and the harmless vulnerability of little children a major reason why we find them so adorable? They produce no harm, shame, or guilt. But what happens as they become adults? They become sophisticated, worldly, cosmopolitan, cynical, suspicious, sarcastic, prejudiced, self-centered, cool, uninvolved, and many other negative things. They also seem to lose their zest for life. Sin does that.

Of course, we can never become children again; and none of us really want that anyway, really. God mercifully gifts us with wisdom (James 1:5) and discernment (Proverbs 2) as we persevere to mature through life (James 1:4), in spite of what we’ve done and what we’ve been exposed to. To live in naiveté as an adult is novel, but it’s also dangerous–which is why children can be rarely left unattended–and dumb.

I don’t know that I’ll experience the same “zest for life” again until heaven. Which makes me all the more eager to get there, though I also don’t want to die anytime soon. Father, give us the faith to believe that we are, in fact, whole and seen as flawless in your sight because–only because–Jesus’ blood has made us that way. Let us be glad in that above any and all of our deceitful hearts’ (Jeremiah 17:9) guilt or shame.

 

 

Rest: Training for eternity

“The Lord is my shepherd, I lack nothing. He makes me lie down in green pastures, he makes me lie down in green pastures, he leads me beside quiet waters, he refreshes my soul. He guides me along the right paths for his name’s sake.” – Psalm 23:1-3

“Abraham Joshua Heschel once observed, ‘Unless one learns how to relish the taste of Sabbath while still in the world, unless one is initiated in the appreciation of eternal life, one will be unable to enjoy the taste of eternity in the world to come.’ We are simply naive if we think that having wasted or squandered the many good gifts of this creation, we will not do the same with the gifts of heaven. Sabbath practice, on this view, is a sort of training ground for the life of eternity, a preparation for the full reception and welcome of the presence of God.” – Norman Wirzba

Pretty much daily, I need to remind my children that my rules and decisions of what they may or may not do are not designed to make them miserable. Last week, Alex wanted to attend a friend’s Pokemon party, where all of the boys in his fourth grade class would spend a Saturday afternoon together, trading and playing (or whatever they do) Pokemon cards.

When I saw the party invite, I did the internal eye-roll of the century. Just recently, I’d sort-of-accidentally come across information on the origin and spirit of Pokemon that brought me a new perspective on the seemingly harmless kids game. Of all the party themes. Pokémon. Why not soccer or LEGOS or laser tag? So then I was faced with the decision to let him do the party or…not. Considering what I’d read about Pokemon’s occult themes (mind-reading, dream-eating(??), teleportation, sorcery and hypnosis), in addition to the game offering really nothing redemptive to experiencing God’s glory, I said ‘no.’

Much to my son’s dismay. Temporary, to the extent of maybe an hour of pouting, but dismay nonetheless.

I said ‘no’ for what I believe is best for my son’s heart, spirit and soul–and because I’m accountable to him. I didn’t say ‘no’ because I was bored and looking for a new rule or wanted to flex my authority. And I didn’t say ‘yes’ because it was a typical thing that a lot of kids–even kids from Christian homes–take part in, thus convincing myself that it’s harmless fun (Luke 6:26 MSG).

My point in all of that is, this parental operating is how I choose to see God the Father’s commands and covenants with his children. Me and you. Everyone. They aren’t designed to assert power over us for the sake of keeping us subservient. He’s the Lord and creator of the universe, so yeah, we are subject to his power regardless. But his directives are all for the ultimate good of his Kingdom–not cold-hearted tyranny.

This takes me to God’s commandment about Sabbath rest. Not a suggestion. Not a preference. God commands us to remember and honor the Sabbath. Not only is taking a day to rest a direct order from the Lord Almighty (Exodus 20:8), it’s inarguably good for us.

A few years back, I realized that I got (and still get) annoyed by the responses “I’m busy” or “I’m tired” to the question, “How are you?” For one, they seemed way overused. Of all of the things a person could be, one (or both) of those is one’s best “go-to” in describing his/her status at the time? For as boring as being tired or busy is, at least it’s honest. And super typical.

Unless we’re only saying it to sound impressive, like, we’re tired due to the volume of busyness going on because we’re so successful or whatever (which, really…when does kind of life descriptor ever impress anyone?), by choosing that lifestyle, we’re choosing to make ourselves slaves.

In Deuteronomy, the Israelites were reminded that the Lord, with his mighty hand and outstretched arm, had delivered them from slavery in Egypt. Thus, to keep us from ever being prone–or worse, forced–to constant work again, He made us liberated people by commanding a day for rest.

“Six days you shall labor and do all your work, but the seventh day is a sabbath to the Lord your God. On it you shall not do any work, neither you, nor your son or daughter, nor your male or female servant, nor your ox, donkey or any of your animals…so that your servants may rest as you do.” (Deut. 5:13-14)

Eugene Peterson says, “The Deuteronomy reason for Sabbath-keeping is that our ancestors in Egypt went for four hundred years without a vacation. Never a day off. The consequence: they were no longer consider persons but slaves. Hands. Work units. Not persons created in the image of God, but equipment for making brick and building pyramids. Humanity was defaced.”

Just yesterday, my friend Analee pointed out via a Facebook post how a person is asked to step down from office or ministerial positions after an adulterous act, but is often applauded for his tenacity when he works on Sabbath. Both honoring the Sabbath and not committing adultery are written in the Ten Commandments.

Something another friend of mine pointed out is how often we as believers, when we DO acknowledge Sabbath rest, will still hit up grocery stores, restaurants or other places of consumerism, and ask others to serve us on a day of rest. Kind of arrogant, right? Resting on our day of Sabbath, while still asking others to not rest by taking care of us? Whew. That’s convicting. And something I for sure need to work on, big time.

As I’ve come to understand more what Sabbath is, and choose to abide by God’s kindhearted directive of it more, it’s revealed how much change this requires in the way I live my life. There are a LOT of things I want to do on Sabbath, but not always because I truly want to–I feel like I need to. I don’t trust that taking a day off of work will relax me and put me in a better position to be effective and full for the six days following. Sometimes, it’s about fear of missing out on something. Other times, it’s a fear of getting behind in the rat race that is often my life. Ugh. Rat race. Talk about a humanity-defacing term to describe one’s life.

I’ll end with this great quote by Wayne Muller:

“Sabbath is not dependent upon our readiness to stop. We do not stop when we are finished. We do not stop when we complete our phone calls, finish our project, get through this stack of messages, or get out this report that is due tomorrow. We stop because it’s time to stop.

Sabbath requires surrender. If we only stop when we are finished with all our work, we will never stop–because our work is never completely done. With every accomplishment there arises a new responsibility…If we refuse rest until we are finished, we will never rest until we die. Sabbath dissolves the artificial urgency of our days, because it liberates us from the need to be finished…

We stop because there are forces larger than we that take care of the universe, and while our efforts are important, necessary, and useful, they are not (nor are we) indispensable. The galaxy will somehow manage without us for this hour, this day, and so we are invited–nay commanded–to relax, and enjoy our relative unimportance, our humble place at the table in a very large world…

Do not be anxious about tomorrow, Jesus said again and again. Let the work of this day be sufficient…

Sabbath says, Be still. Stop. There is no rush to get to the end, because we are never finished.”

The ultimate thing

Such a surreal time, when the Cubs are in the World Series and we’re a week away from the most head-scratching presidential election in US history.

As a parent, it’s been a unique & important task to teach my kids what’s “ultimate” in this exciting, tense season (Cleveland’s up 3-1….and crazy enough, that’s FAR less absurd as Trump or Hillary in the White House!).

The world shouldn’t…can’t…stop when a sports or cultural event is on TV in my home. It’s simply not that important. Government can make substantial differences in our lives, but it doesn’t…can’t…dictate joy, hope or despair. It’s simply not that powerful. It’s fun to cheer. All good to get emotional. And it’s OK to question to the universe what the crap’s going on.

But in the end, it’s a game. It’s politics. Neither of these should earn a place in our hearts as vital or paramount. They’re not what ultimately matters, thus they don’t warrant the majority share of our heart or attention. And I want to be careful not to demonstrate to my kids that they do, so I’ve had to remind myself this a lot lately!

The only consistent rest and satisfaction our home(s) will ever find is in God’s glory: His mercy, mightiness, peace, patience with us…

Not in a Cubs win. Though that’d be awesome too 😉

Model parenting, even without the kids

Several months ago, my 9 year-old son asked if he could borrow the family iPad. He had just returned from a school field trip to a local history museum and was curious to know how much fox pelts go for on Amazon these days (Ha!). I monitore my kids’ screen time and activity closely (15-20 minutes at a time, always in the living room), but on this particular day, I had some guests coming to the house for some friends’ going-away party, and I was more distracted getting stuff prepared for that.

About 45 minutes later, it dawned on me I hadn’t heard from or seen my boy in awhile. My daughter who’d been helping me, hadn’t either. I dropped what I was doing, walked toward the stairs leading to his bedroom on the next level–called for him, but decided to head to his room anyway. I needed the iPad to play music from for the party anyway.

When I walked into his bedroom, my son sat on the edge of his bed pensively while the iPad lay face-down on the floor, across the room. I walked over to pick it up.

“Are you OK, buddy?” I asked while picking it up.

“Yeah…uh, can I see the iPad?” he asked with a hint of urgency.

Nope. Definitely not after hearing that tone in his voice. I opened the device and headed straight for the Safari browser. Maybe because I’m a male, my instinctive hunch was right on. The screen instantly filled with Googled images of flesh. Shimmery, mostly cartoonish, topless females. My heart sank, but kept my demeanor objective.

Impulsively, I closed out of the search page. “Can you tell me about this, buddy?”

My son’s eyes looked up into mine with shame I’d never seen from him before and seemed to plea for mercy.

“Some kids were saying this word at school today, and I didn’t know what it was.” He said, lip quivering. “I’m a terrible person.”

My kids attend a small, private Christian school and at the time, he was finishing up third grade. But in 2016, that’s largely irrelevant. My son’s news didn’t really even surprise me, in spite of his sociocultural school environment. I think this, along with the Spirit’s counsel, kept me calm.

“You’re not a terrible person, buddy.” I sat on his bed so I could affirm him at eye level. As timing would have it, guests started knocking on the front door minutes into our discussion. In that short conversation (which we picked up later), we talked about natural curiosity, and also how that curiosity takes us to places that ultimately don’t feel good. Which is why he felt like a terrible person, even though he’d never been taught that.

As crushing as it was to know that my son had exposed himself to that kind of perversion years before I had anticipated or (of course) preferred, I’m grateful that I caught it early, and in my house. He needed to not feel shamed by what he’d done. He needed to know that he is still loved and delighted in, in spite of the ugly things he’d experienced (and will surely experience in other capacities later). He needed an opportunity to know that he could be truthful with me and feel safety in his honesty. He needed to experience the consequences and impact his decisions would have on himself and others.

It was also good for me. To my fault, I had been lax on keeping a filter on the iPad. It had crossed my mind earlier, but I hadn’t seriously considered my children would come across anything explicit–much less deliberately seek it out. Not atypically for me, lesson learned, the hard way.

On top of that: Despite all of my knowledge on the grossness and devastating effects of porn, I’m not sure anything has turned me off to it more than knowing that, if I were to errantly and selfishly look it up myself, I could be coming across the exact same images my son had been subjected to. It’s the same feeling I have when I stare (and stare) at an attractive woman at the mall, and then look around and see other men in the vicinity also visually soaking in the same woman, at the same time. Wow, does that make me feel disgusting.

“Train up a child in the way he should go; and when he is old, he will not depart from it.” (Proverbs 22:6)

This verse gets overused and taken out of context in my generation, as parents use it to joke about making sure our kids delve into the same hobbies, sports teams or character traits as we’ve subscribed to. I admit, it’s easy to get lazy as I train up my kids. Part of me sees how good they are now (“At least, they’re not horribly misbehaved…”) and I’m tempted to stay on autopilot.

Maybe somewhat obviously, I realize and understand the importance of training them in speech and action–living out the fruits of the spirit (Gal. 5:22-23) so that they can see and hear examples of Christ’s work and character. But more convicting to me through this, is how I (and every parent) chooses to operate when my/our kids aren’t directly in our presence.

How I spend my time. What I do. What I’m allowing to consume my mind and heart. How my consumption of evil things affects my spirit. And though scripture mentions only one time where evil spirits transferred from one living creature to another (Matt. 8:28-34), if I don’t resist the devil, he’s not going to flee from me (James 4:7).

And if he’s not fleeing from me, he’s around me. Consequently, I’m then not protecting my children. It’s a crass example, but painfully true (and hopefully helpful): it’s a sobering thought to think that the hands of a parent who masturbates out of lust are also the hands his/her child reaches out for, as a source of security, intimacy and solidarity. That’s hardly protective. And it’s incredibly…icky.

Father, you are faithful. You delight in our children more than any parent possibly could. Thank you for your mercy over us when we fail to keep our resistance up. Thank you for your grace that allows us the ability to resist in the first place. Please give us wisdom to teach our children with eternal truth and hope and surrender always in mind. To always demonstrate purity to our children and choose pure hearts even when we’re away from them. Keep our hearts flesh and never stony and careless (Ezekiel 36:26).