December 2011 Archives

Given that it's the last day of 2011, I want to use today's post to personally reflect on the past year, particularly my recovery with regards to being codependent.  It's a topic that has been on my mind a lot the past few weeks, and was one of the contributing factors to a recent bad day I mentioned.

This isn't surprising, as the events that led to me seek therapy and uncover my codependency unfolded around this time last year.  That was when things really began to spin out of control in my friendship/relationship with a young man I will call Dave, and I realized I needed to get professional help for some my own reactions.  Then when things fell apart completely and I threw Dave out of my life, I went into therapy and started to really learned what codependency is and why I'm codependent.

For those who may not know what codependency is, I'd like to start with Melody Beattie's definition:

A codependent person is one who has let another person's behavior affect him or her, and who is obsessed with controlling the other person's behavior.

My only problem with Ms. Beattie's definition of what it means to be codependent is that devoid of any context, it sounds really awful.  That's because being codependent is awful, in the sense that it's hell on the person who is codependent and those who are around a codependent person.

What doesn't come across in that definition very well is that "the other person's behavior" is not minor behavior.  Ms. Beattie is talking about behavior that is truly out of control and usually committed by someone who does not wish to take responsibility for that behavior.  Codependent people end up taking responsibility for that behavior -- usually out of a sense of obligation disguised as love -- and trying to rescue the other person from their actions and their consequences of those actions.  We seek to control and "reel in" that behavior, to try to keep everything in that person's life -- and our own by extension -- from flying apart at the seams.

Dave was the last person[1] I was codependent with before getting help.  He was out of control, not handling his own past well and acting out in ways that were self-destructive and destructive to those of us in his life.  And for the longest time, I made excuses for him and took responsibility -- responsibility that Dave refused to take himself -- for cleaning up the resulting mess.  As a result, my life fell apart -- which is pretty common for codependent people.

So I went into therapy and began to examine my own behavior, why I tended to put other people's needs before my own, and chose to attempt control other people who were out of control rather than taking care of myself.  I re-examined my self-perceptions, came to understand and appreciate my own boundaries, and learned to put far more of my energy into caring for myself.

Like recovery from most things, recovery from codependency is a process, and usually a never-ending one.  I still have moments where I slip into the old "care-taker" habits that marked my relationship with Dave and others.  In fact, Dave and I started hanging out again -- and even started moving toward a relationship again -- as I continued my therapy.  At the time, Dave seemed like a changed man, and I decided I wanted to give him another chance.

Unfortunately, I discovered appearances were deceiving toward the end of June, and that Dave was still up to his old games of deceit, manipulation, and using others (including me).[3]  So I eventually told Dave it was over again and told him I would not talk to him until he got help for his problems.

Before the second separation, I had felt the old patterns come back.  I had started to allow my life to center around Dave again.  However, I can proudly say that things hadn't gotten as bad that time around than it was at the beginning of the year.  Plus, once I saw the truth about Dave's continuing out-of-control behavior, I quickly cut it off.  For a codependent person, that is a victory.

I've heard from Dave since, and my response has been even stronger.  The last time I heard from him, I laid out the rules of what it would take to prove himself to me and convince me to let him back in my life.  Dave didn't like the answer, said a few nasty things to me, and stormed off. I haven't heard from him since, and while I'm a bit saddened he hasn't changed, I will not accept an unchanged Dave.  I cannot change him, and I do not want him back unless he chooses to change himself.

I hope that Dave will be the last person I get into such a rough and out-of-control relationship.  I'd much rather find a great guy who understands and values his own integrity and a sense of responsibility.  But if I do meet another guy like Dave and even start getting involved with him, I now have the sense of self-worth and the tools to recognize it and put the brakes on.  And that is good enough.

Note:
[1]  It's important to note that my codependency developed over a long period of time and is the cumulative result of taking responsible for many people over the many years of my life.  While Dave was a toxic person[2] and not good for me, it's important to note that my codependency did not start with him.  Also, I am responsible for my codependency and my recovery from it now.  As Ms. Beattie also says, it may not be my fault that I'm the way I am, but it's my responsibility to do something about it.

[2]  It's important to note that toxic people are not worthless or irredeemable.  Saying a person is toxic simply means that they choose to behave in ways that hurt other people and are often unhealthy to be around.

[3]  The final straw for me was that we broke up and agreed to just be friends.  I was crushed by this decision.  While we were out together three days after the decision, a waitress asked if we had considered getting married, and Dave told her that we were actually engaged.  That was the moment that I realized that Dave would tell any lie that suits his purpose, even if his only purpose is to get a little extra attention from a random person in a restaurant.  I didn't want anyone who had such a low regard of his own integrity.  Someone who can lie so easily for such a pointless reason cannot be trusted to treat others properly.

Patriarchy sucks for a lot of people.  Some of those people are men.  After all, patriarchy seeks to establish some sort of code on what it means to be a man and enforce it.  That means that if some man -- I'll use myself as an example -- don't meet that code, we are deemed "not man enough" and are often ridiculed and mistreated by the patriarchy's many enforcers.

According to the patriarchy, my "manhood" is open for debate because:

• I am terrible at sports.
• I tend to be very sensitive an emotional.
• I like various "girly" things.
• I like kissing other men, not to mention doing other things with them.

Being teased or having my "manhood" questioned isn't fun.  Like I said, not being a sufficiently sanctioned "real man" in the patriarchy sucks.

But you know what sucks even more in the patriarchy?  Being a woman.  This is because women are the real targets of the patriarchy.[1]  The whole reason that the patriarchy wants to define what it means to be a "real man" is to set men apart from women, demonstrate that they're extra-special, and thereby justify and maintain male superiority, male privilege, and male dominance.

Patriarchy's mistreatment of me is a side effect of its real objectives, which is to wage war on women.  To put it more bluntly, I'm nothing more than collateral damage.[2]  Furthermore, while I may be hurt by patriarchy, I also benefit from it and the privileges being male grants me:

• It's highly unlikely that my accomplishments will be overlooked or diminished by men who are more interested in how big my breasts are or how good I am in bed.
• I don't have to be nearly as worried about whether the man who strikes up a conversation with me at the coffee shop will rape me because he thinks he's entitle to any man he decides to be friendly toward.
• Not many people will be inclined to assume that I can't possibly be an engineer, a firefighter, a doctor, or a soldier simply because I'm a man.[3]

I don't bring this up to diminish the fact that I and other men are hurt by the patriarchy.  I do, however, want to put the harm done to us into the proper context, because I feel that context recommends the best response I and other men can make.

If we are collateral damage in the patriarchy's war on women, then I think it's time to start allying ourselves with the women in that war.  After all, if we're all being hurt by the patriarchy, it's time we all start fighting against that same patriarchy.  And that's why I'm for promoting feminism and feminists.

This is where I think it's important to understand that as men hurt by the patriarchy, we're collateral damage rather than the actual targets, our role in this fight is also secondary.  I strongly believe we need to follow the women's lead in this fight.  As I said in my previous entry, we can't make this all about us, even though we will benefit in the process.[4]  But we need to be willing to set aside our egos and our desire to take the center stage -- reasserting that same male privilege that the patriarchy already grants us[5] -- and work as supporters and allies.

Notes:
[1] Actually, I suspect that trans* people of all types also qualify as real targets as well.  After all, whereas I might question the gender policing that the patriarchy uses to enforce male superiority and dominance, trans* people reject it thoroughly and completely by having the "gall" to refuse to "stick with their rightly assigned gender."

[2] Not that this makes me or other man any less injured.

[3] People might assume that I can't do some of those things because I personally am lacking in some way as an individual.  They'd be right.  But there's a difference between that and assuming women can't do those same things because they're the same.  I'm a man, so I get to be an individual.

[4] And despite what some may think or claim, many feminists want us men to benefit from feminism.  I've heard far more women talk about how patriarchy hurts men than I've heard men talk about it.

[5] And that's the thing.  It seems like a lot of men who are hurt by the patriarchy aren't ready to give up the ways in which the patriarchy still serves them.  They want to be able to "like girly things" -- to pick an example -- yet still maintain some sort of special status over women.  Fighting the patriarchy doesn't work like that though.  You fight it all or you ca't really fight it at all.

Some time ago, I had a friend who liked to be "helpful."  He loved to do nice things for others.  He loved talking about all the nice things he did for other people.  It got annoying rather quickly.

Mind you, there's nothing annoying about helping other people.  In fact, such expressions of altruism, hospitality, and compassion are something I personally value greatly -- and think everyone should value greatly.

There's also nothing inherently wrong with sharing stories where one helps another.  It's often a good way of raising awareness of the problems and needs of others.  If my friend Becky mentions in passing that she gave our mutual friend Ralph some extra grocery money, I might respond by saying that I didn't realize Ralph was strapped for cash and ask if he's okay.  I might even contact Ralph and ask him if there's anything else he needs.

No, the problem with my friend's behavior was that he was bragging.  What's more, it quickly became clear that his intentions were not so much to help others but to draw attention to himself in that "look at what a great guy I am" sort of way.  In time, I began wondering if he cared about the people he helped at all beyond a way to show off what a great guy he was.

I thought of this friend as I got involved in a conversation over at Fannie's Room regarding those people who wish to be seen as, to paraphrase Fannie, heroic allies of women or racial minorities (or QUILTBAG people or any other marginalized group) for the simplest and most basic things while they ignore subtler, more complex, and equally important (not to mention more common) manifestations of marginalization.

While I certainly agreed with the point Fannie was making, I took it one step further:

You know, I never really got this mentality.  I have no desire to be a "heroic feminist ally."  Quite frankly, doing so would strike me as making being a feminist ally all about me.  (Do I really need to spell out why this is problematic?)  Personally, I'd much prefer feminists give me an honest critique of where I do well and where I need to improve.

I want to expand on that point.  When a person is acting as an ally to others, it's not about them, and it's inappropriate and rude to make it about them.  People who wish to be an ally -- whether it's an ally to women, QUILTBAG people, racial minorities, or some other group -- need to understand this fact quite clearly.  Without doing so, one isn't much of an ally.

On those occasions that I write about feminist issues as a man -- or should I ever right about trans* issues as a cisgender man or racial issues as a white man -- I don't do so in order to gain praise.  I do so to help out women (or trans* people or people of other races), and I believe I wholeheartedly have a duty to do my best to help them.  Part of helping them means not drawing attention to or accolades for myself in the process.

That's why of all the blog posts I've ever written, the blog posts I write about women are probably the ones I think hardest about and fret the most over.  It's easy for me to write one about gay male sexuality, Pagan spirituality, or my past experiences as a fundamentalist.  I'm intimately familiar with those subjects on a personal level.  When I write about issues that affect women, I'm writing about someone else's experiences and struggles as an outsider.  That calls for great care and attention, because it's not about me at all.

And that's the way it should be.

I'm not a big fan of Clay Aiken's rendition of this song, but my selection of YouTube videos was severely limited.  I first ran into "Merry Christmas with Love" back in the ninth grade (that's be the 1988-1989 school year, for those of you who might be wondering) when our chorus teacher announced it as one of the songs we would be singing it as part of our Christmas concert.  I was deeply touched and moved by the central story and message of the song.[1]

In a small, not-exactly-the-same sort of way, I can also understand the sentiment on a personal level.  Since my mother began working at a hospital several years ago, Christmas has often been a bit strange in our home, and Christmas day itself often doesn't seem like Christmas day.  Take this year as a good example of what I'm talking about.  My mother has to head to work at around 1pm.  Because of this, my parents and I celebrated our Christmas yesterday, exchanging gifts and having our big dinner.  As such, this morning feels like most other days, with my mother getting ready for work and me thinking about my impending drive back to Rochester after lunch.  When I used to live at home, such years were even odder, as my father and I would look at each other after Mom left for work and wonder "what do we do with the rest of our day."

I can only imagine how much stranger it is for those people who don't have loved ones around them at all during this season.  It must be difficult.  I actually admire some friends who discovered that a mutual friend had no Christmas plans and invited him to their house.  We should all have that sense of compassion for others.

So, dear readers, may you have a Merry Christmas.  If you find yourself surrounded by loved ones, hold them a little closer in appreciation.  And if you find yourself alone, drop me a line.  It's not much, but at least you'll know someone cares enough to talk.

Note:
[1]  This is actually why  don't like Aiken's rendition of it.  I felt he tried to "dress it up" way too much with his vocal talent.  Yeah, he's a pretty good singer, but sometimes, the song itself is more important than how amazingly one can belt it out.  When the latter starts to detract from the former, there's a problem.

When I was younger, I had trouble sleeping on Christmas Eve.  I would lay in bed thinking about all the presents I would be getting, wondering which of the toys and other things I asked for would actually be waiting under the tree for me the next morning.  The anticipation would keep my mind wound up too much to allow it to slip into unconsciousness.

As I grew older, the problem faded.  As I got older, the magic of all those presents began to wear off -- to the point where as an adult, my first thought when family members ask for gift suggestions is occasionally, "great, more crap I don't really need and don't have a place to put anyway."  This is good, as I'm not sure that I could handle the sleep deprivation now as well as I did back when I could still count my age using only my hands.

I admit, though, that the anticipation of giving has also grown since then.  There's something special about knowing that when someone opens that almost perfect gift[1] their expression and reaction may actually light up the room.  It's an anticipation that doesn't keep me awake half of Christmas Eve,[2] but it's something that gives me that extra thrill and desire to go on.

I also think there's something to be said for anticipating the joy of another person, as it takes us outside of ourselves for that moment and makes us more other-focused.  Sharing in the joys of others adds to both our joy and theirs, and it makes life that much better.

What joys do you share?  What things do you anticipate, both during this season and throughout the world?  Have you ever had that moment where you're looking forward to something so much that you can't sleep?  Can't concentrate on your job?  (Don't worry, I won't tell your supervisor.)

Note:
[1]  This reminds me, I need to answer my own question on a recent open thread.

[2]  In fairness, this is at least in part due to the fact that I'm not (quite) as hyper or excitable as I was in my youth.

I've had a few ideas for a post running around in my head for a few days now.  I want to explore how gender is treated in modern Paganism, how a binary view of gender[2] influences Paganism (most notably Wicca and those traditions closely related to it), and whether it's a good or bad thing.  However, that post is nowhere near ready to go up.  However, thinking about the topic brought up a recent memory that I'd like to reflect on.

Earlier this year, Z. Budapest came to our town and held a tarot workshop at Psychic's Thyme, in which each woman in attendance received a personal reading from Ms. Budapest.  The event was well attended and from all reports I've heard, it was a great success.

As the event approached, I had many customers at the shop ask me if I was planning to attend.  I'd simply smile and point out that I would not be attending, as the workshop was for women only, and express hope that they would have a good time at the workshop.

Apparently, during the workshop, one of the women decided to ask Ms. Budapest why she had made the event women only.  She started her reply by explaining that this was a special event intended to strengthen and nurture women, and that part of that was giving them a special place free with men.  I'm totally on board with her on all of those points.  While I certainly would have enjoyed to meet and learn from someone as experienced and renowned as Ms. Budapest, I agree that -- especially in our patriarchal society that tends to devalue and marginalize women -- it makes perfect sense to say, "some things are just for the women because they deserve it."

The ending of her explanation was a bit more problematic to me.  Part of her argument was that men already have a "special place" that caters to them.  She went on to say that the place in question is known as the Vatican.

As I said, I have no problem with women-only events and spaces.  In fact, I highly approve of them.  However, I do take issue with the suggestion -- even if done in jest -- that as a man, I have my own space within the Catholic church.

The first -- somewhat obvious in my opinion -- with that suggestion is that as a gay man, I'm not a "proper man" in the eyes of the Vatican.  I don't meet their understandings of what the proper role of men is, at least when it comes to terms of sexual behavior.[3]  In short, I don't meet the Catholic standards of manhood and would find any attempt to do so terribly painful.  As I've heard some feminists say, patriarchy is hell on women in particular, but it's ultimately not good for anyone.

That actually brings me to my second issue with the suggestion.  If patriarchal institutions like Catholicism aren't good for anyone -- or even if they were bad for women and perfectly fine for men in general and me in particular -- why would I want to take part in it, thereby supporting its continuation.

There are a lot of patriarchal institutions out there, and the problem isn't just the Catholic church.  Some of those institutions -- like my career field -- would be hard, if not impossible to simply walk away from.  I have to deal with the fact that I'm a part of them -- and I try my best not to feed into their patriarchal nature and even do what little I can think of to help break it down.  But I have no reason or need to be a part of Catholicism, and I certainly don't want to support or endorse its institutionalized patriarchy.[4]

If I'm going to seek out a male-only, male-affirming space, I'd much rather find one that has figured out how to be male-affirming without doing so at women's expense.

Note:
[1]  And I pray for the day I figure out how to stop doing so altogether.  Even unintentionally.

[2]  Though it may be more accurate to say that polarities are discussed in gendered terms, but that's something that needs a full post to explore.

[3]  I suspect that's not the only place the Catholic church might take issue with my "masculinity," however.

[4]  Plus, there's a good bit of Catholic theology I disagree with, being a Vanic witch and all.

Happy Yule![1]

The winter solstice -- that point where the sun's rays are least direct on the Northern Hemisphere -- officially takes place tomorrow morning at 5:30 UTC.  For those of us in the Eastern time zone (UTC -5:00), that translates to tonight/tomorrow morning at 12:30am.

The winter solstice marks the longest night of the year and the triumphant return of the light, longer days, and warmth.  To some Pagans and Wiccans, it represents the rebirth of the sun god.  Yule brings a sense of rejoicing, the darkest time following Samhain has is about to pass and the half-year reign of the underworld will begin to wane and give way to the brightness and warmth that is vital to our survival.

However, I think it's important to remember as we begin to pass back into more light that we need the time of darkness to survive as well.  After all, the growing season and bountiful harvest rely on the gestational period of the dark winter months, just as our own psyches require downtime and decreased activity.

Yule marks the rebirth of light into a fragile, not entirely ready form, but it's a birth that takes place thanks to the things that have been rejuvenated and seething in the darkness.  And while that fragile light shall grow stronger and eventually overcome the darkness for its time of reign, it will also be nourished by the waning darkness and the slumber it encourages.

So let the light shine in this quiet time, not as a brilliant force to be reckoned with, but as a comforting glimmer and a promise of what is to come.

Note:
[1]  Or for any readers who are in the Southern Hemisphere, happy Litha/Summer Solstice.  I hope you will indulge me in the rest of this post, however, as I focus on the mysteries I am currently experiencing/working with.

Today's look at Alisa Harris's book, "Raised Right:  How I Untangle My Faith from Politics" continues to look at chapter seven.  The underlying theme of this chapter -- which I did not adequately explain in last week's post, leaving my criticisms somewhat without the necessary context -- is about how Ms. Harris's conservative upbringing focused so much on politics that it consumed her whole identity and her relationships with other people.  I touched upon a similar phenomenon when I wrote about fundamentalist identity over at Confessions of a Former Conservative[1].  As such, I can identify with a lot of what Ms. Harris talks about in this chapter, though under slightly different conversations.

Harris speaks in the first paragraph of how her political leanings set her apart from many of her peers:

And while they were e-mailing one another about boys and fingernail polish, I was assuming the mantle of e-champion, which required two things of me:  an e-mail address to receive daily Bush campaign emails and the indefatigable conviction that I must forward to everyone I knew.

While I talked about how fundamentalist identity can consume one's entire identity, I had not considered discussing how it echoes Ms. Harris's own experience as described above.  Not only does such an identity consume a person, but it often becomes something that completely separates them from others.  In many ways, I imagine this is intentional, as fundamentalist and other conservative Christians find it important to identify themselves as separate from other people who are still "of the world."  As such, this obsession with in-group activities to the detriment to other interests that one might have in common with their peers becomes an important sacrificial act demonstrating one's "insider" status.

This is particularly troubling when one is young, as Ms. Harris notes that young conservative Christians -- and I'd add fundamentalist Christians regardless of political involvement -- tend to act like adults and associate more with adults.  There's a certain sense where "fighting the good fight" becomes so important that simple things like expressing an interest in boys or girls, popular culture, and other things, which ultimately can rob such youth of their childhood.

I've often looked back at my own youth -- and even my college years -- and wished I had them to live them over.  I find that because I was so focused on being the perfect Christian, I put a lot of my personal development -- especially emotional development -- on hold.

When I finally addressed these areas of my life, I found myself trying to work through things in an adult world.  I found myself learning social skills and emotional coping techniques while holding down a job and acting like a responsible adult, as opposed to having the luxury of working through these things while still being able to rely more on my parents and having far less responsibilities.

This is one of the "holes" or distortions that Ms. Harris alludes to in this chapter of those whose politics become the whole of their identity.  It's one that I felt she should have explored more.
 
Note:
[1]  As an aside, let me said that I'm quite pleased that Former Conservative has managed to rejoin the ranks of bloggers everywhere.  We missed you while you were silent, guy.

Today's post is going to be somewhat personal, as it's what I have the energy and mental capacity for today.  I'm still recovering from my FINE[1] day yesterday.  I get them every now and then.[2]

One of the things I've found over the past year that it's actually helpful to acknowledge such days and even indulge in them.  Prior to entering therapy last January, I would fight hard against such days and demand that I "just get over it."  After all, it was "just a feeling," and I should be able to control them.[3]  I would seek to diminish my rough days if not outright repress them.

The problem with that approach is that they never really go away.  Things just build up, waiting to get out.  Eventually, when you can't hold it in any longer, it all boils over, explodes, and makes a huge mess.

Yesterday, I actually had a much better day by acknowledging that I was having a bad day and allowing myself to do so.  I was able to both indulge in a bit of self-pity and make light of it.  It made the whole experience not great, but far more bearable and manageable.

As a society, we tend to encourage people to put on a happy face, to act like nothing's wrong, and to think of people who "have it worse."  The problem with this is that while there may be people with worse problems out there than what we are facing, our problems are still very real and we need the freedom to deal with them.  And we can't do that if we can't even acknowledge them or feel like we have to downplay them.

Notes:
[1]  FINE is short for "Fucked up, Insecure, Neurotic, and Emotional."  An old coworker taught me that.  He learned it when he was in counseling years ago.

[2]  Right now, they seem to be happening every other week or so.  I think it's the holiday season combined with the fact that a few "major events" happened in my life around this time of year, and my mind tends to gravitate towards the associated memories.

[3]  The need to be in control is a major issue for most codependents.  One of the big wake-up calls I faced when I finally acknowledged my codependency and got help for it was acknowledging just how much I needed to be in control of not only myself, but my circumstances and others in it and how I sought to exert that control.

While writing yesterday's post, I noticed something else about this week's passage from Peretti's book, "The Visitation."  As I didn't feel it really fit in with the rest of my post, I decided to save it for a short blog post today.  Because the passage in question involves Pentecostal characters, it included certain tell-tale signs that one would expect when reading about Pentecostal characters, such as one of them praying in tongues.  What I found noteworthy about this is how Peretti describes it:

She was standing still, clutching her Bible to her bosom and looking heavenward, her lips moving rapidly as she whispered in another language.

A few paragraphs later, he phrases it similarly:

Now all three women  were pointing and looking while Dee kept singing in and out of English.

If Peretti had been writing with a strictly Pentecostal audience in mind, he might have used terms like "praying in tongues" and "singing in the spirit."  Instead, he uses phrases that describe these concepts in an attempt to better explain things to non-Pentecostal readers.

Having read other books by Peretti, the fact that he's expecting non-Pentecostal readers, let alone thinking about making his idea accessible to him, is worthy of some note.  Earlier books like "This Present Darkness" were rife with "insider language" of not only Pentecostals, but those involved with spiritual warfare.  To my mind, those books were clearly intended to target those audiences.  This new, more accessible language to a larger audience is a relatively new development.

I'm a bit curious how successful a move it is.  This book is still about supernatural events that are theoretically supposed to happen in the real world.  I can't imagine your average Episcopalian or Methodist taking an interest in this book.  Plus there's the fact that he's not entirely successful.  There are still a few points in which falls back into thinking like a Pentecostal and shutting out any other potential readers he might snag.  However, I give him credit for trying.

Note about page numbers:  I'm using an iBook copy of this book.  With iBook (and I believe most electronic books work this way), the book repaginates based on your font settings.  As such, I'm not sure how useful it will be to give page numbers.  For anyone who wants to know, I'm reading my iPad in portrait mode using the smallest font size, with a font setting of Palatino.  That's how I come by the page numbers I list in the post titles.

After spending last week following Arnold the Catholic around his church, we find ourselves meeting Pentecostal characters this week.  These are the characters that Peretti are most familiar with, as he he belongs to that same community.  Three church ladies,[1] Dee, Adrian,  Blanche, are leaving Antioch Pentecostal Mission after a Sunday morning service.  They begin to discuss the possibly supernatural experiences that Sally and Arnold have experienced as any good church lady would do to keep her part of the grapevine well-managed.

One of the interesting things about their conversation is the hesitant credulity with which they approach Sally's and Arnold's respective experiences.  Navigating the supernatural experiences that others claim to have is an ever-present aspect of Pentecostal culture.  On the one hand, to immediately dismiss the experiences of others invites others to be equally skeptical of one's own claims.  On the other, being too willing to blindly accept the claims of others leaves one open to being led astray by the dark and demonic powers.  This is demonstrated in the book when Blanche questions the weeping crucifix, suggesting that it sounds "awfully Catholic," as Pentecostals are particularly suspicious of Catholicism.[2]  Indeed, there has been much advice and even a good number of formulas on how Pentecostals might seek to determine if an experience truly a miraculous encounter with God.

Of course, as the women talk, Dee gasps and begins to pray in tongues, for she sees Jesus in the clouds.  She points out the figure to the other women who begin to see it.  Soon, a crowd grows around the women as more people begin to see Jesus in the clouds, and more details are added, such as Adrian who sees him holding a hand.

It's interesting to note that not everyone in the crowd can see Jesus, and some who do see him also see other animals.  Peretti writes this passage pretty masterfully in that we are left wondering whether particular experience is a true spiritual experience or the imagination of one woman that spreads among others, eager to share in that same experience.  One is left to wonder what really happened.

I find this interesting, considering this easily explained-away experience is happening to the very group who would -- at least on an intellectual level -- be likely to accept and even expect a more direct miracle such as Arnold's crying crucifix or Sally's disappearing messenger.  I imagine that Peretti is intentionally trying to keep a situation in which even the Pentecostal's can remain skeptical of of whether or not anything legitimately supernatural is occurring.

The question is, if something supernatural really is going on, why would the source of these events want to keep anyone skeptical?

Notes:
[1]  Is this the concept of church ladies something that needs to be explained to some readers?  Or is this a fairly universal concept among most Christian groups?

[2]  I should note that not all Pentecostals actually think that Catholics aren't "real Christians," at least not in the sense of being saved.  They believe that some Catholics might be true believers in the sense of being saved, but find much of Catholic doctrine (as they understand it) to be in error.

The other day, Steve Hayes brought the book, "Shades of Faith:  Minority Voices in Paganism" to my attention.  As I've been highly interested in the intersectionality between various minority groups, discovering a book that discusses minority people within my own religious community came as a terrific boon.

In her introduction, editor Crystal Blanton describes her own experience as a Black[1] Wiccan High Priestess thus:

I am accustomed to being who I am among those who are different.  I am also accustomed to seeing the world a little differently because my experiences in the world are different.  I am used to being the one that people have turned to when they wanted to ask a question about cultures outside of their own.  This has become a part of what I recognize as a gift the Gods have graced me with; and like the pattern of my life, I have found a path to purpose in being the minority within the minority.

Ms. Blanton acknowledges that some minority people within Paganism have felt alienated within the Pagan community, and I hope that some of the essays within this analogy will provide examples of such experiences.  I am hoping that as a Pagan community builder, I can find ways in which to make my own community more inclusive by discovering needs and issues that I may not have considered before.  After all, I agree with Ms. Blanton's assessment of how a diversity of voices only strengthens us:

The voice of differences add in an element of harmony to the collective voices of any path or movement.  We are in the human and social movement of spiritual understanding; Black, White, Hispanic, Native or other.  Together we harmonize on a frequency that is powerful enough to manifest divinity on earth and bring spiritual rest to so much collective suffering and pain.  I am honored to be the black key on the piano.

Note:
[1]  This is the description that Ms. Blanton chose for herself.  As such, I felt it fitting to use her own terminology.

Trigger Warning:  Brief mentions of homophobia, transphobia, racism, misogyny, and rape culture.

There's a lot of good material to discuss in chapter seven of "Raised Right:  How I Untangled my Faith from Politics" by Alisa Harris.  However, for today's post, I want to focus on the following statement, made toward the end of the chapter:

Our gayness, blackness, whiteness, femaleness are not parts of a complete identity but our whole identity, elevated from an accident of birth to a political credo.  We become misshapen when all the spiritual and intellectual parts of our identity become merely political.

There have been a number of instances in the book so far where Ms. Harris has offered some wonderful and self-reflective insights into her experiences with conservative Christianity, only to incorrectly -- in my opinion at least -- projects those insights onto liberals, feminists, QUILTBAG people, and others.  As this particular instance is especially egregious in my mind, I want to take the time to draw attention to it.

There may be some truth, at least in some instances, to Ms. Harris's suggestion that one's race, gender identity, sexual orientation, or some other aspect of one's life that tends to take central stage, possibly to the exclusion of others.  As a gay man, I am particularly fond of the following line spoken by John Mahoney's character in "The Broken Hearts Club:"

Sometimes I wonder what you boys would do if you weren't gay. You'd have no identity. It was easy when you couldn't talk about it. Now it's all you talk about. You talk about it so much that you forget about all the other things that you are.

However, I think it's important to understand why this is often the case, which Timothy Olyphant's character in the same movie explains so well.  To paraphrase[1], he suggests that a lot of gay guys tend to spend so much time hiding, denying, and even trying to change who they are that when they finally come to accept their orientation, they feel like they "have a lot of catching up to do."

I think we can expand on that sentiment by considering the way in which people are marginalized, repressed, and dehumanized for being gay, female, trans* or a racial minority.  Whether we look at racism, transphobia, homophobia, or misogyny, the message that many in our society -- and the system itself -- sends to many such people is clear:  "You are not fully human because of who you are."

When someone's basic humanity is constantly[2] diminished, challenged, and denied because of some aspect of zirself then it is perfectly reasonable that defending zir humanity from those attacks, which means focusing on that aspect of zirself.  For women, racial minorities, and QUILTBAG people, defending their rights and devoting significant amounts of time is a matter of self-respect and even survival.  Comparing the amount of time that such marginalized people spend on those endeavors to the endeavors of the conservative political efforts -- efforts that often translate to the continuing marginalization of other people, is dubious at best.

I am thankful that Ms. Harris has rethought many of her previously held positions and untangled her faith from her politics.  However, when it comes to considering the plight of marginalized people and how they choose to handle that plight, I think she needs to think things through a bit more.

Notes:
[1]  Unfortunately, I couldn't find an exact quote online.

[2]  And the constant presence of such othering of various groups is something that people who do not belong to those groups[3] often miss.

[3]  And this is true among the various marginalized groups, even.  For example, I'm constantly amazed at just how pervasive the rape culture and other forms of misogyny is as I read feminist blogs.  Being gay does not automatically sensitize me to the struggles others face.

Spoiler Alert:  This post is going to give away plot elements in a nineteen year old movie.  Face it, if this ruins the movie for you, you probably weren't going to see the movie anyway.  ;)

This past Friday, I ran to The Living Room Cafe for movie night.  One of the movies we watched was the 1992 movie, "Sneakers," starring Robert Redford.  It's one of my favorite movies, and I love taking every opportunity to watch it.

One line in the movie, however, has always bothered me.  It's delivered in the scene when Liz, Warner, and Cosmo are about to leave the building and the team of thieves is about to get away with their caper.  Liz mention in passing that she was giving up on computer dating.  Cosmo looks at the "couple," declares that no computer would pair them together, and (correctly) concludes that the date is part of the caper set-up.

I've always taken issue with Cosmo's declaration.  I find it quite possible to believe that a computer would pair up just about anyone.  Leaving aside the fact that people who use online dating services are notorious for being less than 100% honest when providing their information -- even when taking the kind of "personality profile tests" that sites like eHarmony and Chemistry.com use -- there's always the possibility of computer glitches and programming errors.

I suppose the screenwriters felt that given Cosmo's love of computers, he would buy into such a conceit.  However, I would argue that Cosmo's love of computers -- and more importantly, his deep understanding of them -- would make him more aware of how imperfect computers are.  After all, the movie starts with  college-aged Cosmo and Martin working together to hack computers and cause mayhem in the name of "fighting the system."  It seems to me that someone who not only works with computers, but has a history of seeking out and taking advantage of vulnerabilities in computer systems.  Such a person cannot possibly think of computers as perfect.

I think this is more likely a case of non-computer people of the time projecting their own sense of awe and mystery for computers onto a character who should know better.  In the 70's, 80's, and '90's, there was the sense among the "uninitiated" that computers were incredible devices and capable doing amazing things, and they tended to idolize them as such.  Movies like "Sneakers" demonstrate this sense of awe and worship for them.

I think as more people become familiar with the Windows operating systems and the infamous Blue Screen of Death, that sense of mystique has diminished, if not outright vanished.  But for those of us who delved into the mechanics, that sense of mystery was gone long before that.

Warren Throckmorton is Associate Professor of Psychology at conservative Grove City College and the creator of the Sexual Identity Therapy Framework, a set of guidelines for therapists who wish to help gay people of faith (particularly a more conservative form of Christianity) to reconcile their sexuality with their faith.

Recently, Dr. Throckmorton wrote a blog post in which he discussed Christian media sources to refrain from discussing or even mentioning recent studies relating to sexual orientation.  The entire post (and the rest of his blog) is well worth reading, and is one of the reasons I respect Dr. Throckmorton.  As fellow gay blogger, Pomoprophet, put it while covering this post:

Throckmorten[sic] (though he doesn't fully agree with me) is the type of Evangelical Christian that I can actually respect. He is informed and thoughtful. When he talkes about "defending truth is the name of Jesus" he does so with the best data available on "the truth", not merely conservative talking points that fit nicely into his narrow view of the world. I find it ironic that many Evangelicals shun one of their own because he reports the facts and the studies and calls them on their anti-gay animus.

The fact that Dr. Throckmorton has faced much criticism from his fellow evangelicals -- some have even pressured Grove City College to terminate his employment there -- for his honesty and his integrity makes his commitment to both all the more admirable.  However, I would like to suggest that in this post, Dr. Throckmorton has gone beyond simply standing up for the truth, but acting in what some Christians might consider a prophetic role.  Consider this quote from his blog post:

Many evangelicals get their information from NARTH through groups like Family Research Council, Focus on the Family, Exodus International, etc. Others get information from Christian media. However, these studies are not reported in these places. No wonder most evangelicals approach sexual orientation with a 1990s mindset. It is as if the evangelical world is in blackout mode when it comes to current studies on sexual orientation.

Dr. Throckmorton is not merely standing up for the truth, but he is calling out those here are hiding the truth, misconstruing it, or even lying about it.  This has become an endemic problem among many evangelical leaders (for more examples of this, simply check out a half dozen other posts from Dr. Throckmorton's blog, an equal number from Fred Clark's blog, and my own post from Wednesday.)

Note however, that Dr. Throckmorton's prophetic warning is not merely aimed at those leaders who would either leave their followers in ignorance or even actively deceive them.  His warning to those followers is also clear:  Do not assume that your leaders are being honest with you just because they're standing in front of a cross.  It is up to those who value truth to verify the veracity of what they're being told for themselves.  To do otherwise is to play some small part in their own deception.

Thank you, Dr. Throckmorton, for being such a voice for integrity and justice.

Note about page numbers:  I'm using an iBook copy of this book.  With iBook (and I believe most electronic books work this way), the book repaginates based on your font settings.  As such, I'm not sure how useful it will be to give page numbers.  For anyone who wants to know, I'm reading my iPad in portrait mode using the smallest font size, with a font setting of Palatino.  That's how I come by the page numbers I list in the post titles.

As I prepared to discuss the next passage in Frank Peretti's book, "The Visitation," I was struck with how Peretti misunderstands his own characters.  The introduction of Arnold Kowalski, the custodian of Antioch's Catholic church, makes that abundantly clear.  Arnold is a likable fellow, and I believe that Peretti takes care to present him as such, unlike the way L&J tend to present their non-RTC characters in the left behind series.  Arnold is depicted as an elderly, devout Catholic who takes great pleasure in serving his parishioners and someone for whom we are encouraged to feel compassion for as he goes about his job in pain from his worsening arthritis.

However, I'm not convinced that the internal monologue is in line with the character being presented.  Certainly, it is understandable for an old man in near-constant pain to wonder why God would leave him in pain.  If Arnold didn't wonder that, I would wonder about his basic humanity.  Instead, what I take issue with is Arnold's impulse to wonder how he can bargain with God:

Maybe I'm not serving God enough, he thought.  Maybe I need to work longer.  Maybe if I didn't take any money for what I do here...

Among evangelical Christians -- especially of the pentecostal stripe that makes up most of Peretti's own environment -- this line of thinking is quite common.  The idea that serving God brings on blessings and that the sign of trouble might be a sign of not being sufficiently faithful to God are common among such people.  If Arnold were the custodian of the local Assemblies of God church or even a nondenominational mega-church, the above line of thinking would make perfect sense.

But the Arnold presented in this story is a devout Catholic, and my personal -- albeit anecdotal -- experience suggests that this line of reasoning is not common among Catholics.  In my experience, Catholics are not particularly susceptible to bargaining with God or expecting HIm to take away their suffering.  Indeed, Catholics might be more apt to identify with their suffering and identify with Jesus.  After all, they consider the suffering of the Crucifixion to be far more central to their faith than most Protestants -- especially of the pentecostal and nondenominational variety -- are, hence their love of crucifixes.

Speaking of crucifixes, Arnold notices that the huge crucifix in the church appears to be shedding tears, so he seeks to investigate.  He checks out the tiny rivulet of water that is running down the crucified Christ's cheek, verifying that it is not being sourced from a leaky roof or a fault in nearby plumbing before reaching out to touch the apparent tear, expressing some anxiety and fear:

He reached, then hesitated from the very first tinge of fear.  Just what was he about to touch?  Dear God, don't hurt me.  He reached again, shakily extending his hand until his fingertips brushed across the wet trail of the tears.

Again, this strikes me as a case of Peretti not truly understanding who he established his character to be.  Why would Arnold fear a bit of water -- even unexplained as it was -- on the crucifix?  Does Peretti think that Arnold -- and Catholics in general -- are afraid to touch their crucifixes?  This would not surprise me, given most Protestant's misunderstanding of how Catholics view such thing.  To many Protestants, Catholic crucifixes are seen as idols, and they make the mistake of thinking that Catholics see such idols as inherently holy or in some way magical.  So the thought of touching a crucifix -- especially one that appears to be crying -- would be some fearsome thing.

In my experience, Catholics are much more practical-minded than that.  While they certainly view their crucifixes as important reminders of the Holy suffering of their Savior and why that suffering is worthy of respect, honor and praise, the crucifix itself deserves no such honor.  Catholics do not genuflect before the crucifix to give honor to a wooden figure, but to give honor and respect for what is represented by it.  It's a distinction I think that Peretti is failing to understand here.

The other possibility is that Peretti is portraying Arnold as a man who, having determined there is no "natural" explanation for the tears, now thinks it's from a supernatural source (be it demonic or divine).  As such, his fear is regards to what will happen to hem when he comes into direct contact with this supernatural phenomenon.

This explanation doesn't ring true to me either.  We have just learned that Arnold is in near-constant pain which has been increasing over the years.  Given his circumstances and his reluctant resignation to his lot in life, I find it strange that he'd be ready to expect the supernatural already.  I think it far more reasonable that touching the tears would simply be the next step in Arnold's so-far methodical and common sense investigation of what he's seeing.  At this point, he should be touching the "tears" to see if they're actually there or a trick of the light on the grain of the wood.

It turns out, however, that the tears are indeed supernatural and they cause Arnold's arthritis to instantly go away.  I suspect that this is the real reason for Arnold's trepidation, written in by an author who wanted to a build a little suspense while leading up to this miraculous occurrence.  Those motives are understandable, but doing it at the expense of understanding how Arnold as described might act is problematic, all the same.

I received another email from Eugene Degaudio.  This time, he is asking for donations to oppose the Employment Non-Discrimination Act that is working its way through both the House (H.R. 1397) and Senate (S. 811) committees right now.    In his usual inflammatory manner, Delgaudio has dubbed this bill "The Gay Bill of Special Rights."  Read the bill as it stands in both houses of Congress for yourself and see if you can spot any "special rights" it grants QUILTBAG people.

Delgaudio speaks of the bill and those supporting it thus:

But this organization is more dangerous because it's learning from past success.  You see, they'll be using the same tactics other groups used to repeal Don't Ask, Don't Tell, a battle you and I lost.

In their own words, the "lessons and tactics learned in the repeal fight are finally being utilized."

Interestingly, Delgaudio does not mention what "tactics" pro-equality advocates have found successful.  The only "tactics" I recall anyone using to push the repeal of DADT consist of the following:

1. Honestly portraying QUILTBAG people honorably serving their country only to suffer as a result of the policy.
2. Demonstrating through testimonies and other verifiable evidence that allowing QUILTBAG people to openly serve in the military does not and would not negatively impact unit cohesion, military preparedness, or any of the other things that the anti-gay lobby would have you believe.

Effectively, the "effective tactics" that the pro-equality crowd has been using is the honest truth.  Compare this to Delgaudio's own choice to drum up political and financial support by lying.  From his email:

Churches would be forced to hire homosexual youth pastors or face lawsuits for discrimination.

However, this is not true, as both versions of the bill have religious exemption clause.  Section 6 of S. 811 reads as follows:

This Act shall not apply to a corporation, association, educational institution or institution of learning, or society that is exempt from the religious discrimination provisions of title VII of the Civil Rights Act of 1964 pursuant (42 U.S.C. 2000e et seq.) to section 702(a) or 703(e)(2) of such Act (42 U.S.C. 2000e-1(a), 2000e-2(e)(2)).

Section 6 of H.R. 1397 contains nearly identical language:

This Act shall not apply to a corporation, association, educational institution, or society that is exempt from the religious discrimination provisions of title VII of the Civil Rights Acts of 1964 pursuant to section 702(a) or 703(e)(2) of such Act (42 U.S.C. 2000e-1(a); 2000e-2(e)(2)).

It's no wonder that Delgaudio doesn't want to discuss what the "effective tactics" the pro-equality side are using.  After all, his supporters/marks[1] might start comparing those tactic's to Delgaudio's own.  And I don't imagine making it even more obvious that he's a liar will not help Delgaudio's cause.

Note:
[1]  What else do you call people you lie to in order to get them to give you money?

In chapter six of "Raised Right:  How I Untangled My Faith From Politics," Alisa Harris describes her initial support of the Iraq War and how she came to question her faith in that war and her stance on war in general.  She describes one experience that served as a catalyst for the re-evaluation process:

But one day I popped in my grandmother's big-band cassette tape and heard a song that pricked me with uneasiness.  A gunner fell and the sky pilot set aside his Bible and took up the gunner's gun, singing, "Praise the Lord and pass the ammunition, and we'll all stay free."

I hit Fast Forward, scrambling the buoyant trumpets and brassy tune. it was all right to portray the long-suffering nobility of soldiers writing letters to their sweethearts and thinking of home or even the soldiers fretting about their girls sitting under the apple trees with other men.  But with this song I could see the gunner lying in pieces and the sky pilot using the phrase we all toss so casually -- "Well, praise the Lord" -- before he used the ammunition to rip a hole in a human being.

Prior to the above passage, Harris had described romantic notions of war and acknowledged in hindsight that they had been truly romantic.  However, this song struck her with a more bloody reality.  What seems to strike her however, is not only this bloody reality, but the casual way in which it is talked about and almost taken lightly by the flippant -- at least as used in this context -- phrase "Praise the Lord."  She repeats her astonishment about such flippancy of a line uttered by Gary Cooper's character in Sergeant York compares killing German soldiers in World War II to "shootin' turkeys."

As Harris faced the realities of war and the thought that war involves killing people -- something generally condemned by the Christian god -- she finds such casual talk about it to be troubling.  This forces her to consult with other people, both people in her lives and the great minds of people she respects as she grapples with this tough decision.

It's this grappling with tough questions and the openness to being discomforted by such easy comments that interests me most in this chapter, because it's something I think is too often lacking in conservative evangelical circles.[1]  Flippant phrases intended to simplify complex topics and therefore discourage uncomfortable thoughts over them are far too common.  They allow those who hear and repeat them to pass over a topic quite quickly and state a position without thinking abut the full implications of that position -- especially for other people.

It's only when those simplified phrases are shown in contrast to the much messier reality they seek to gloss over that such phrase's flippancy becomes uncomfortably obvious.  Granted, not everyone responds to that discomfort as well as Harris did.  Rather than digging for deeper answers, some will simply dig their heels in harder and even become hostile to anyone who attempts to show them the deeper complexity of the topic and the horrible insensitivity of such simple catch-phrases.

In time, they might be able to cover up the discomfort again and stop thinking about the reality.  But one might hope that more such moments of discomfort might crop up, continuing to afflict the comfortable until they seek to comfort the afflicted.

Notes:
[1]  In fairness to the conservative evangelical Christians, it's lacking in plenty of other circles as well, including some of the circles I belong to.

I've had a busy weekend and simply have not had time to come up with an idea for a blog post today, let alone turn it into something coherent.  So I'm going to take a day off and try an open thread.

Some possible things to discuss:

1.  What do you do to relax and/or cope with stress?
2.  Have you started your Christmas shopping yet?  When do you normally start?
3.  What's the best gift you've ever given?  The best reaction to a gift you gave?
4.  Introduce yourself, what your interests are, and why you read my blog.  (Yeah, that last one is completely self-serving on my part.)

I'll have a more informative (and hopefully entertaining) post tomorrow.

As I've considered thinking about Wednesday's post about the way various women are portrayed in the book "Destiny," I started wondering what I had hoped to accomplish with the post.  After all, it's not like I expect future authors of the Rogue Angel series to read my post and try to improve the series' portrayal of women.  I simply don't have that level of influence.

In many ways, I think I was engaging in a bit of navel-gazing, though I consider it much-needed navel-gazing.  You see, I've never picked up a book and given much thought to how many female characters there were, how those characters interacted, how they were portrayed, or what other notions about women were being reinforced -- implicitly or explicitly.

Having spent many months learning more about feminist thought and how society perceives and treats women from fantastic bloggers like Personal Failure, Fannie, Ana, and Mmy, I felt it would be a good exercise to step back, try to see past my own privilege, and consider my reading material in a different light.  In effect, I was seeking to become a better ally to women.

I must say, it was an enlightening experience.  In the course of seeking to recall the book and write a post about it, I found a number of problematic themes to write about -- more than I even originally expected to find.  These are things that I would have overlooked normally.  Or if I had noticed them at all, I would have shrugged them off as minor things, rationalizing that with such a powerful, independent woman like Annja as the main character, such things couldn't possibly matter.  The kickass woman made everything alright, right?

Well, no, I don't think so.  Positive and negative portrayals of women -- or any marginalized group, for that matter -- are not mutually exclusive, and the tendency to ignore the latter when the former is present only allows the negative ones to flourish in the culture.  So learning to spot these problematic themes is important.

I think for me, the best example of my normal oversight of this sort of thing came from when I went to write the post and could not remember any women in the story other than Annja.  I had originally boldly declared that the book failed the Bechdel test on that grounds alone.

And yet, as I mined the book for quotes and details for my posts, I ran into two other women in the story.  One woman (Maria) I had forgotten completely.  The other woman (the unnamed server), my brain had surreptitiously rewritten as a man, demonstrating that I'm still perfectly capable of assuming that a man is the default human.  That was not a comfortable realization, let me tell you.  I find myself wondering how many other women in the story I have invisibilized simply by forgetting about them or remaking them into men in my mind.

It would be easy to blame the culture and say that I only did these things because it's the way my upbringing and experiences have conditioned me to think and behave.  While that's certainly true, I think that's a terrible excuse.  After all, I am a part of that society and my actions contribute to the same conditioning of other people unless I do something about it.  And ultimately, I am the one person in the world I have control over.

So writing the post has further awakened me to something about the society and myself that I don't like.  So now I'm looking to change things by changing myself.  I am currently in the process of reading "Solomon's Jar," the second book in the Rogue Angel series, and I'm choosing to read it more mindfully.  I am looking out for female characters so that I can remember them.  I'm looking for problematic themes while reading them, rather than thinking about them after the fact.  I'm keeping an eye out for whatever messages the book might try to send me.  It'll be interesting to see what I have to say about the next book and my reaction to it.

If I can raise one or two other reader's awareness, that'll be a bonus.

Note about page numbers:  I'm using an iBook copy of this book.  With iBook (and I believe most electronic books work this way), the book repaginates based on your font settings.  As such, I'm not sure how useful it will be to give page numbers.  For anyone who wants to know, I'm reading my iPad in portrait mode using the smallest font size, with a font setting of Palatino.  That's how I come by the page numbers I list in the post titles.

Having met our mysterious crucifixion survivor and watching his discovering of some unknown power last week, we turn the first chapter of Peretti's "The Visitation" this week to meet nineteen year old Sally Fordyce as she leaves her home in Antioch Washington[1] to go for a walk.  We learn that Sally is nineteen and has returned to Antioch to live with her parents after a short-lived relationship with a trucker named Joey.  Peretti describes that relationship from Sally's point of view:

She had believed everything Joey, the trucker, told her about love, and how she was that girl silhouetted on his mud flaps.  The marriage -- if it happened at all -- lasted three months.  When he found another woman more "intellectually stimulating," Sally was bumped from the truck's sleeper and found herself coming full circle, right back to bring Charlie and Meg's daughter living at home again.

This is the perfect evangelical cautionary tale against "fast relationships," especially those involving premarital sex.  Sally is that "poor girl" who trusted the promises of the "wrong boy," fell head over heels, got used, and had her heart broken and dumped back home, ruined.

As anyone who has ever dated can tell you, there's a lot of truth to this story.  I suspect most of us could tell that story of that person who promised us the world and eternal love, believed them, and ended up getting hurt.  I don't take issue with any particular detail of this story, as it's quite plausible.

And yet, the way in which this tale is told and meant to be perceived in evangelical circles is troubling to me.  This is not a tale of a young woman who had her heart broken when love didn't work out, but the tale of the foolish girl who made a lot of bad choices and got the heartbreak coming to her.  Let me break down some of the hidden (or maybe not-so-hidden) elements of this message.

First, we have Joey comparing Sally to silhouettes (presumably of a sexy woman in some pose that's meant to be provocative) on the mud flaps of his truck.  In evangelical culture, this is a hint that Joey is a sex-obsessed boy who would seek to sexually objectify any woman he meets.  In the evangelical mindset, this is probably seen as a sure sign that Joey watches porn too, and that if Sally had been smarter, she would've realized that Joey was bad news and only interested in one thing where she was concerned.

Add to this the phrase "if it happened at all" in regard to the marriage, which suggests that maybe Joey and Sally didn't officially tie the knot, but instead were simply cohabitating in Joey's truck as the traveled around for his work.  Again, this is a clear warning sign in evangelical circles, as any guy who will shack up with a girl without "making her an honest woman" is bound to dump her at some point.  Again, to the evangelical mind, this is something that Sally should have seen as a sign that Joey was trouble and avoided him.

The thing is, this is how some evangelicals tend to envision all relationships that meet their expectations of "doing marriage right" look.  There are no well-meaning couples who decide to live together and do their best to make things work, only to fail.  If such a relationship fails, it's because the couple "did it wrong."  Even if the couple does everything "right" according to the culture, if the relationship fails, it's a sign they "didn't really do it right after all."  And while they might be sympathetic with Sally, there's that part that sees this as consequences she brought on herself.

This is further shown as Peretti tells us that Sally saw her relationship with Joey as her chance for freedom.  Of course, Sally's understanding of freedom is painted as immature.  Now that she's back home, she has to cook, clean, and help with other household chores, things that she apparently didn't have to do while living with Joey.

Of course, to Sally, freedom also meant escape from the small town of Antioch.  To her, Joey was her one chance to escape.  I find this interesting because Peretti is playing on a cliche here that I don't buy into.  Contrary to popular belief, not everyone who grows up in small towns wants to escape them.  Even some of those who are not "wheat farmers" decide they like their cozy little hometown and stick around.  After all, there's a lot to be said for living in a small community where everyone has known almost everyone else since they were born.  It can be quite comfortable.

Yes, some of us[2] decide we'd prefer more excitement.  Or we decide that our chosen careers require us to move.  Or we decide we'd have better dating options in a larger, more diverse community.  But we don't necessarily just leave our small towns for the sake of escaping our small towns.

This is, I suppose, where I find Sally a bit poorly written.  There is nothing driving her desire to get out of Antioch.  There is nothing pushing her away from her hometown, nor is there anything pulling her to some new location.

Of course, that's why Sally never found an escape other than Joey.  She has no ambition of her own.  She has no goals or self-determined destination.  And that's why she is still (or at least back) in Antioch.  So she latches onto a man -- a trucker who tells her that she's sexy and beautiful, no less -- to provide her with her escape.

Elephant in the room time:  Don't a lot of evangelicals hold this up as a woman's perfect -- and only -- duty?  Isn't being a wife beholden to a particular man part and parcel of many evangelical descriptions of the ideal woman.  So here we have Sally, who seems to be latching onto that idea herself.  She turned to a man to be her ticket to the good life.  And yet, because (1) she didn't "do it right" and (2) she "failed," she's a "poor girl" to be pitied/tsk-tsked by the same people who probably contributed to her thinking that this was the perfect life for her.

After all this set up, Sally meets a random stranger that has a message for her:

"I'm here to bring you a message.  Your prayers have been answered, Sally.  Your answer is on his way.  Be looking for him."

Sally's answer to her prayers -- her prayers to get out of this small town -- is on his way.  You heard that, the alleged answers to her prayers is another man.

You can almost hear the evangelical readers sardonically thinking, "Here we go again."


Notes:
[1]  Google maps knows of no Antioch in Washington, though there apparently is a "Highway 9" that runs through that state.  I suspect that this is another attempt by Peretti to create a plausible sounding small town, as Yamikuronue concludes about Ashtion in "This Present Darkness."

[2]  I grew up in the rural town of Tioga, Pennsylvania, so I'm a "small town boy" myself.