Grow Up: The Four Maturities

Recently a story has been hitting the media that adolescence doesn't really end until 25, due to continuing neurological and emotional development. There has been the usual back and forth over if kids are being coddled or if we as a culture have too been hard, etc. Etc. Etc. I'm not qualified to make judgments in the area of neuroscience and my lack of parenting experience weakens the force of any opinions I'd make in that area. Instead I'll focus on something more relevant to my age group: what to do about growing up.

The Next Right Thing

If you've spent much time in the Church you've probably heard this saying "Do the next right thing." Sounds cliche, doesn't it? I'd heard it plenty of times from my Dad before I ever figured out that there was more to this saying than one might think. Perhaps the sheer number of times we usually hear this saying blinds us into thinking we understand it, but there's actually some good theology behind it. Let me explain...

For the Joy, Not the Enjoyment

       Growing up a pastor's son/ homeschool kid, it was probably inevitable that I would read The Chronicles of Narnia. C.S. Lewis' only works for children were not 'dumbed down' versions of his other works but rather a series of fairy tales that applied theological principles to stories of witches, dwarfs, fauns, and centaurs. I think my favorite tale in the chronicles is The Horse and His Boy. It centers around Shasta- the adopted 'son' of a cruel fisherman who plans to sell the boy as a slave, Avaris-the daughter of a noble family who's on the run from an arranged marriage, and Bree and Hwin- two Narnian horses from a breed granted by Aslan with the gifts of intelligence and speech but held captive in the tyrannical Kingdom of Calormen like normal horses. Aslan helps their escape, but often without their knowledge and probably not in ways they would choose.

The Divine Narrative

A narrative, everybody has got one. Whether consciously or not, there is a story we tell about ourselves to ourselves. People, political parties, sports teams, universities, there is always some story we use to explain our existence and purpose. "Baylor is here to train people in a rigorous and Christian academic environment", "The Democratic Party is here to ensure an equal society", "The Republican Party is here to ensure a free society", "I am here to write these blog posts in the hope that somebody will find them helpful". And so on and so forth ( I find it interesting that out of all the ways I could refer to myself in this blog, I call myself a Pastor's Son). These narratives can be anywhere from honest to delusional, but they shape our decisions and perceptions regardless. We use them to focus our priorities and excuse our failings ("Sure, I drink some, but it doesn't really affect me because I'm above that"). In short, narrative is at the core of our interactions with reality.

Moving Forward in a Debauched Society

      It's easy to blame today's moral regression as the product of 5 unelected government officials shoving their opinions down our throat at the expense of national spiritual well-being. The fact is that this is the result of a long-running and very deep moral rot that the Church has had trouble addressing for several decades. It's a fundamental problem of ministry, or any kind of attempt to convert somebody to your way of thinking: how do convince somebody who doesn't even accept your basic assumptions?

Dependability: The Supreme Virtue of Manhood

      The definition of what makes a man a man is anything but clear in today's culture. Is it simply possessing a y-chromosome and and a rather vulnerable body part in the pelvic region? Is it being super-ripped  and sleeping with as many women as you can get? Is it being sensitive and open enough to talk about your feelings? Is it making money and gaining power? Is it drinking beer A instead of beer B? I'm here to offer my observation on the single defining trait that separates the real men from the overgrown boys: Dependability.

Redemption: Cheating at an Unwinnable Game

      I recently watched Night and Fog, a French film about the Holocaust, for my World Religions class. I'll spare you the worst details, but the part that really got to me was when the film showed images of the absolutely evil and depraved experiments that Nazi 'doctors' conducted on prisoners in the name of their twisted racial science. And yet, my religion demands that I accept that the people who did those barbaric, downright satanic things have the exact same opportunity to be saved that I have been offered.