The greatest thing to be thankful for.

With Thanksgiving around the corner, it's timely that so many things could be going wrong in my life at this very moment. I say that because I would never have been able to understand what I am about to share with you had things gone well.

I've just turned 31 years old. My birthday sucked. I didn't do anything. In the weeks leading up to it, I once again found myself disappointed with my lack of accomplishments. Another year has passed and still no wife, no career, no family, and no prospects in general. My losing streak remains unbroken. Earlier in the week, I had a falling out with a friend whom I deeply care about. Oh, and my cold has relapsed. Suffice it to say that I've been in a state of great discomfort and distress.

For a long time it's felt like my life has just been defined by failure after failure after failure. Unrealized aspirations. Unmet expectations. Rejections. Hopes ripped apart. Love never found. Value never achieved. These days I would be inclined to look at what I just wrote and scrutinize it for distortions of thought, but this time I think I got it on the nose. Have you ever been repeatedly exposed to a bit of knowledge or wisdom that you understand but somehow it still takes a long time for you to actually comprehend it? Well, all of my greatest issues can be attributed to my own ignorance and foolishness. I'll eat crow on this one. I have no one to blame but myself here.

The funny thing about it is that this was wisdom I was looking to recently (and from multiple sources)! I was trying to take these lessons seriously and I was trying to be cognizant of my own shortcomings, potential or otherwise. I'll allow myself a little credit in that I was at least concerned that I was going down the wrong road. But the fact remains that I really bollocksed this one up. I can't count the numbers of times I've heard from my parents, therapists, church, etc. that you can't allow your worth to be dictated by things in the world. It never meets that need in the end. You'll always be trying to get that fix that makes you feel valuable and experience happiness. And as I've been told numerous times, the only way to fill that void is through seeking it in Christ.

Like I said, I bollocksed this one. It all came down to me wanting to be wanted. That's what it has always been. I've wanted to work as a screenwriter because I've wanted to share stories that people all over the world could get enjoyment from. I've wanted to be married because I've wanted someone who I could be a cheesy romantic to and give affection to and would appreciate it and reciprocate those feelings. I wanted to be the most caring and loyal friend I could be and have the admiration and closeness that the best relationships have. My priorities were misplaced. Things got wrecked because of it. By making screenwriting the only career leading to happiness, I've robbed myself of how rewarding my jobs can be. Making marriage a confirmation of my worth caused me to feel insecure about my appearance and personality, leading me to suffer from anxiety and depression for decades. Resolving to be the friend that gives everything so I would know that I was wanted and needed just made me into a judgmental, needy, and possessive killjoy with a hero complex and it drove my friend away from me.

I had to go back to those lessons. Doing that, it quickly became painfully apparent that I had made every single mistake I could've made. But I wasn't completely drained of hope. I knew what I had to do: find my value and happiness by seeking Christ. The tricky part was figuring out what exactly that meant. I must admit that sometimes the wisdom we're given can be frustrating in finding the practical applications needed. It didn't matter. I had to figure this out because I knew there was no alternative. I looked online and tried to find anything that might shed a little more light. All I could ever seem to find we're verses referring to our value to God, but these all felt little more than platitudes. I got pretty frustrated. I had two or three very frank conversations with the Lord and I didn't hold back a whole lot. Eventually, I came across a sermon by Rick Warren that focused on man's worth to God.

I need to detour slightly for a moment. Every Christian knows and believes that Christ gave His life to spare us all from eternal separation from Him. We know that this was an act of profound love and that nothing we do can or will ever merit this gift. This fact was the go-to in every article or video I looked at when discussing our value to God. However, I was having trouble seeing this as an effective example. I'll explain. If we're born into sin and no one but God can atone for this, then how is Christ's death demonstrating our value? The way I saw it, it would be like someone spending $1 million on a candy bar that's only $1. The candy bar didn't change it's value. The person just chose to put down an exorbitant amount of cash for a Butterfinger. The value all comes back to the customer. In the instance of man and God, we're the Butterfinger and Christ is the millionaire. Okay, now back to where we left off...

Rick Warren made an illustration with a similar premise. He started off by asking if anyone in the congregation knew the property value of their house. Several people raised their hands. He then promptly told them that they didn't know it at all. His response was that their house (or anything being sold, for that matter) was worth whatever a person was willing to pay for it. He listed off a couple of examples. Two cars that are the same model, but one was owned by an average Joe and the other one belonged to Lady Gaga. Naturally, people are going to be willing to pay more for the latter. It was owned by a celebrity! In that same way, mankind's eternity had a price that they could never afford. But God stepped in and decided that we were all well-worth paying such a high price. He gave us the Son and with it a second chance to choose Him.

I thought this was a good counter to my own initial approach. It didn't quite satisfy me as an answer, but it was at least a good starting point. It wasn't until later that night as I was journaling that I started to grasp the full meaning of it. I was attempting to express the ideas in my own words and that's when it felt personal. I think as Christians that, while we're capable of expressing gratitude for Christ and feeling love from His sacrifice, there's a certain disconnect. We tend to look at the impact of the crucifixion in a very general way. I knew that He died for me, and I'm just another faceless person that easily disappears in the whole of mankind. But that night it suddenly felt very different. My thoughts had a far more intimate perspective. God created me so He could love me and allow me to experience Him, the very essence of happiness, goodness, beauty, and love itself. I was made for the ultimate and highest happiness imaginable. And even when I turned away from Him, He still wanted me to have that gift so badly and He wanted me around so much, that He gave the Son just so He wouldn't have to be without me. He doesn't need me and I've done absolutely nothing to deserve what He's given, yet I'm absolutely priceless to Him. I cried that night. The night after that, I cried even more. They were tears of sadness and regret over all the wasted years chasing things to find the value that I've had since before even my birth. They were also tears of happiness, gratitude, and relief. Things didn't have to be the same anymore.

That second night I had determined those moments of tears to be the happiest of my entire life. At first, I was a little hesitant to come to this conclusion. Prior to this, I had distinctly remembered the happiest I had ever been in my life. This didn't feel the same as that. That earlier time felt a lot more energetic and euphoric. But I quickly settled on this new moment as the happiest one because it had met the same needs as the old one. The difference was that this one didn't feel like a high. I was very happy, but I also felt assured. I knew everything was going to be okay.

I have a whole lot of things that aren't going well for me right now. Somehow, I'm still really happy. I'll keep my hope close. God willing, my current problems will find a good solution. But for now, I'll be fine. I have Christ and that's something I'm truly thankful for.

-L. Travis Hoffman

11/18/2018

The Agonies of Needing Prayer

I hate asking people to pray for me. Scratch that. I hate asking people for specific prayers for me. I don't care who it is. Friends, family, or anyone else. I hate to do it.

I know, I know. You're wondering why. If you're someone that has ever asked others for prayer on your behalf, the answer is obvious. I've found that whenever I've requested prayers about something really important to me, it inevitably has to go through some sort of scrutiny by those being approached. People always feel the need to tell you about what a long shot your request is or how you need to be prepared for God to say "No" or any other nuggets of advice and wisdom that seem to serve no purpose other than to take the wind out of your sails.

How is that helpful?! I don't need that. Doubt is not a commodity that I have in short supply. I need encouragement and support. I need a reason to believe that God will bless me if I'm persistent. I need to know that when I pray that it isn't some pointless gesture that does nothing. How is any of this being accomplished through the "advice" offered?

I think people tend to forget the vulnerability that comes with asking for prayer. When you make that request, you're opening yourself up to another person. You're letting them know your fears, desires, insecurities, flaws, and ambitions. That's a lot of trust being extended toward another individual. Anything that rings as a dismissal from them can also be read as them not taking your request seriously. It trivializes your needs and wants. It treats your confidence flippantly.

That's not to say that I think people intend harm in their words. Most of the time they're just trying to protect you. In some cases, we'll know that a request runs counter to God's nature or His commands. That can be dicey territory and becomes a balancing act between showing love by prayer and love by speaking truth. In my own experiences, I find it best to just give assurance that you are praying for them and leave it at that. Let the details remain between you and God.

This issue has been on my mind for the last few months. I have my prayer... project, I guess you could call it. I made an attempt to reach out to my parents. I was vague on the details because I had a feeling that the scrutiny and advice were coming. Yup. I called it. Dad advised me to focus on asking God what He wants from me. That's great advice. It's also not mutually exclusive to my prayer request. I find it exasperating to be given advice that ends up making me feel bad for going to God when we're instructed to pray about anything and everything. So I've given up on going to my parents when it comes to prayer requests relating specifically to myself. It's unfortunate but I'm guessing it's not that unusual.

I know that by posting this blog entry that I'm just asking for the unwanted replies from the counsel brigade. But maybe you go through the same agonies of needing prayer. Sometimes it's good to know that you're not the only one that has to deal with it. If anything, use this knowledge so you can be the type of person that you've needed for prayer and not the one that lets you down.

-L. Travis Hoffman

3/27/2018

 

Follower...?

Having read a few books that discussed Christian living, I've found myself questioning my level of devotion. One particular book I'm reading, Not a Fan by Kyle Idleman, raises some difficult questions to the reader. Will you do anything for God? Give up your plans and desires? Give up your money? Will you talk to anyone? Go anywhere? Live anywhere? Are you willing to embarrass yourself? Alienate friends, family, co-workers? Are you willing to suffer and die?

I think you get the picture. It's disconcerting. Now I can tell you in all honesty that I would have trouble doing any of these things in the service of Christ. In fact, every single one of them would be impossible for me to accomplish without the Holy Spirit. Now we are fortunate enough that our salvation is not contingent on our ability to do all these things, every time and without failure. But why wouldn't we try?

I know, I know, there are plenty of reasons not to try. No one wants to be uncomfortable if we can avoid it. But if we're honest, they're all selfish reasons. If we believe that God is all-good and all-knowing and His plans are all for the greatest possible good, why wouldn't we defer to Him in how we live our lives? I keep running this question through my head, over and over.

I love my wife. Now I know you're wondering about when I had gotten married. I didn't. I'm not even dating her yet. And no, I'm not telling you who she is. (You are more than welcome to pray for us getting together, though. :)) I'm... productively pining over her right now. I pray for her constantly. I pray that God makes me good enough that He would want to bless her with me as her spouse. Whenever I fail to live up to the standards that I know she deserves, it kills me. I pray and live each day with the expectation of being blessed with her love. But what if it turns out that God doesn't want this for me? Heck, what if God wants me to be single my entire life? Putting aside what a nightmare that would be for my libido, I don't want to be alone. Yes, I realize that God is always with me. But that isn't the same. If it were, God would've been perfectly content with just Adam in the Garden. I don't know how I'd get through this.

Another issue is in how I conduct myself in everyday life. By that I mean how my faith is expressed and shared with others. Virtually anyone who knows me is aware of my beliefs, but what if my dedication called for me to be bolder in my expression? That means potentially annoying friends, family, co-workers, etc. and drawing ridicule and criticism. It means debating and even losing against someone who does not share in my faith, thereby undermining my efforts simply because I lack adequate rhetorical skills. It means sharing vastly unpopular views. Or my zeal could very well just be off-putting. As a matter of fact, I can give you an example of just that.

Ordinarily I wouldn't tell this story because it comes across as if I'm peacocking my religiosity. But it serves the purpose of this blog entry, so I'll share it here. Several years ago, I got the random idea to go through my list of facebook friends and ask each of them how I could pray for them. The reactions were mixed. I'd say most of those who responded were grateful and pleasantly surprised at the gesture. Some were confused. A couple were nasty and mean-spirited and at least one person was just downright offended, for whatever reason.

This was a very uncomfortable thing for me to do. It invited a lot of hostility. However, it was likely good overall because it allowed Christ to be shared, even if the effort was executed clumsily. But the things that stick with me most are the negative responses. I have thin skin and I'm prone to high anxiety. I doubt I could ever do something like this again. I'm not speaking figuratively when I say that God would have to make me do it.

Going through the history of the Church makes me realize how trivial my issues are. Even watching the news you'll find stories of Christian persecution in Asia and the Middle East. These are people who are being oppressed, tortured and killed. And here I am, griping about maybe saying no to the girl of my dreams and/or getting a bruised ego? I think it says something about how flabby my faith is.

I want to have the dedication of a martyr. Even more, I want to want to have the dedication of a martyr. I know that I'm not anywhere near that level of devotion. Look, it's not as if I want to be called to do any of these things. But I want to be in such a great relationship with God that I would be willing and able to do so. So I make two requests from you, the reader. The first request is that you examine the depth of your loyalty to Christ and how it can be better. The second request is that you would pray that my own would improve. This is a rough and narrow road to take, so let's be helpful travel companions and get through this together.

-L. Travis Hoffman

1/25/2018

The "War on Christmas" is being waged for all the wrong reasons.

If a certain meme is accurate and to be believed, "from November 1st to January 15th there are approximately 29 holidays observed by 7 of the world's major religions."

I have two problems with this meme:

1) This is December. Therefore, the holidays in November and January are irrelevant.

2) Only three of these holidays (Hanukkah, Advent, and Christmas) and two of these religions (Judaism and Christianity) actually matter.

Now the knee-jerk reaction from some who read this will be indignation. How dare I claim exclusivity to the truth claims of Judeo-Christian thought! How dare I suggest that anyone outside of these religions be treated rudely and dismissively! The latter assumption is false. Anyone who approaches me and wishes me a pleasant holiday I will express my gratitude in kind, just as I would hope that they would do the same for me. I can appreciate a person's best wishes to me, even if they are predicated on false beliefs, because that person's sentiment comes from a spirit of generosity. That's basic civility that we should all have. The first assumption, however, is on the nose and that's what this blog entry is about.

If you're groaning about businesses insisting on saying "Happy Holidays" instead of "Merry Christmas", I would suggest examining your reasons why. Why does Christmas hold priority over all other holidays? Is it because it's the celebration of the birth of Christ, mankind's savior and part of the Trinity that is the one true God? Or is it because you prefer pine trees over menorahs? If it's the first reason, then you have every right to be upset that other holidays are being treated with equal reverence as Christmas. If it's the second reason, I think you're kind of an idiot. Sadly, I'm fairly certain that the majority of these champions of yuletide celebration fall into that camp.

Christmas devoid of its religious implications means absolutely nothing. Snow, trees, presents, and Santa Claus could be given to a whole other holiday and nothing would change. It's common knowledge at this point that Rome instituted Christmas around the time of Saturnalia and the winter solstice, gradually edging those out and appropriating certain elements. In other words, those pagan traditions still exist because they were attached to a greater and more meaningful tradition that's endured millennia.

Insisting on "Merry Christmas" when one does not adhere to or observe what makes it a holy day is an unnecessary exercise. At best, that's cultural Christianity. It's empty and just as worthless as ethnic /cultural Jewish identity. Both are meaningless when deprived of what gives them their meaning: communing with God. It makes little sense for a non-observant Jew to celebrate a day marking deliverance from religious persecution if they, themselves, don't put any stock in Judaism. But that's what Hanukkah is. Anything else is a cheapening of that holiday and an insult to Jews. The same can be applied to celebrating Christmas.

I honestly don't care if people say "Happy Holidays" or "Merry Christmas". Most of the time I just say, "Have a good holiday." People aren't stupid. They know which holiday I'm talking about because they know me by what I believe and how I try to live. That's what's more important because that's what makes it a holy day and not a garden variety gift-giving day.

-L. Travis Hoffman

12/18/2017

Close Call: April 2005

This is a post I've been mulling over for some time now. I had thought about waiting until the anniversary of the incident but it came to my attention that this is Suicide Prevention Month and this particular entry seems apropos to that cause. This will hopefully be a coherent entry, as I will definitely go off into tangents and anecdotes that relate to this overall experience.

A few small things before I jump into this. How I intend on telling my story may be construed by some as flippant. Maybe it is in some ways. I don't want to give any impression that I don't take suicide seriously. I very much do. And by no means would I ever treat the experiences of others in a trivial way. Humor is how I often cope and laughter is great medicine, especially when one applies it to their own wounds. My self-deprecation exists for the purpose of being honest about what I was at that time: a kid who was hurting and made a foolish decision. The second thing I want to bring up is more of a request. I'd appreciate if you know my immediate family members that you would not share this entry with them. They've gone through this ordeal and handled it in their own ways. I'd rather that my own method was not on their radar so that they may not be inclined to read this. Now on to the story.

I had been diagnosed with depression years before, but I guess this all really starts with a girl named Anna. She was a tall blonde with hazel eyes. Attractive, but I wouldn't say conventionally so. It took a while for me to warm up to her. We met in theatre during the fall of '04. During that time we became friends and in the following months that escalated into a very public display of flirtation. We got on quite well and I don't think it would be hyperbole to say that everyone among the cast and crew were pulling for us to get together.

About two weeks after our play was finished, I finally worked up the nerve to ask her out. There was some disappointment on my end when she said that while she was up for dating, a relationship wasn't in the cards. She was going to college soon. I took what I could get and hoped for the best. We went on one group date and I hung out at her house once over Christmas break. Then out of the blue I get a phone call from her. She decides she wants to try a relationship. I could not begin to tell you the elation that I experienced in that moment. No words.

So we were now together. We hung out once more over the break. There was frequent exchanges during school. But then I come home from school one day to find an e-mail from her. She asks if it's okay if we're just friends. I read that and I immediately grabbed the phone and called her. I'm going to venture a guess and say that it was one of the longest phone conversations she's ever had to endure. What started as my attempt at salvaging a young relationship turned into me falling apart very quickly. I was a weeping mess.

From that day on, I was miserable. Any time that I'd see her in the hallway or in theatre was agonizing. It was like twisting a knife in me. You have to understand where I was mentally and emotionally at that age. I'm very well aware of what I look like. I wasn't attractive in my adolescence either. Up to that point I had never met anyone that had reciprocated feelings toward me. This was like finding a unicorn. It wasn't likely to happen, but if it did it was even less likely to happen again. Everything hinged on that for me. So when that relationship died, any chance of being loved back had died with it.

The next few months involved me trying to convince her to change her mind. Our interactions got more and more volatile and I grew bitter. I became a pretty vindictive little prick. This all culminated when we happened to be taking the same route home while she was going to see a friend. We were talking during the walk and things started to get turbulent... and then she saw her friend, ended the conversation, and left me. That pissed me off to no end because I wanted to rage at her so bad. I wanted to go at it with her and really tell her what I was feeling. But she wasn't willing to play that game. That brush-off, that disregard was the last straw. As I walked home I was thinking, "I'm done trying. This is misery and I don't want to live."

I got home and went to my room. I started working on a goodbye letter. I spent the remainder of the day being pleasant enough. I waited that night for everyone to finally go to bed. I remember my brother being up quite late. Between a bathroom trip, I told him that I loved him. I never say that unless it's in a goofy kind of way. I sometimes wonder if he remembers that moment and whether or not he reflects on it as a red flag. I've never had the heart to ask him.

Eventually, everyone went to bed. Since I didn't want a painful death, I decided an overdose was the way to go. I took somewhere between 15-20 pills of ibuprofen. These were the length of my thumbnail and had the circumference of my pinky. Then I drank some rubbing alcohol and some peroxide diluted with water. The deed was done and my letter was finished, so I laid down and for the first time in months I slept peacefully.

What came next was a haze and I don't remember much. My mom found me and she thought I might have overslept. I told her what I did. She grabbed me by the wrist, yanked me up, and asked me what I took. The ambulance and police showed up. As I was being led out of the house, I threw up mere inches in front of a cop's feet in our living room (sorry, Officer, wherever you are). I kept going in and out of consciousness. They made me drink charcoal, which was a blast to say the least.

I fully woke at another hospital. It was explained to me that I would be spending time in a psych ward. I was allowed a brief moment to say goodbye to my parents. As I went to hug my dad, I told him that I was sorry. He just rubbed my head and gently said, "It's okay." He said it as if I made any other stupid mistake. The compassion in that little gesture has always stuck with me. I'm crying as I type this out. I saw that my mom was a wreck. She was crying and in that moment I recognized that all the pain I had been through had been nothing compared to what I felt then and there. I had done this to my mom. This was on me and I would never put her through that ever again.

I spent four days at this facility. It consisted mostly of group therapy with the occasional one-on-one with a psychiatrist. The doctor treating me was named Raphael Gonzalez and he had this awesome accent. He was mild-mannered and he seemed both amused and pleasantly perplexed by me. He was particularly tickled with my vocabulary. My parents later relayed to me that he had said, "He's not an ordinary boy." Whether there was sincerity behind that comment or merely him exercising his bedside manner, I don't know. In any case, he was an affable fellow and I enjoyed what little time I had spent with him.

My return home was surprisingly uncomplicated and devoid of any stress. All but one of my teachers turned a blind eye to my absences and, by extension, mandatory final exams. The one teacher never really liked me, but whatever. There still remained, however, the Anna situation. I shared a class with her and we both were in theatre.

During this time, I was fortunate enough to have two friends that made the rest of the school year bearable. The first friend was Jon. We had earth science and mass media together. He was hilarious and we shared a lot of the same interests. He got me into Bruce Lee's films. He even helped me out on my first short film by playing the lead. The second friend was Kayla. Oh, where to begin with her. She was adorable, sweet, contagiously likable, and she had a singing voice that could make me cry. Seriously. Hearing her sing was like falling in love. If I'm excessive in my praise, it's because I thought the world of her. She and I bonded over a mutual dislike for Anna at that time. Those friends could not have come into my life at a better time. They were a godsend.

I still had a rough time of it. I still cried in my room and I had days where I wanted to crawl under a rock. I was participating in a musical at that time, so I had to play happy Woodstock the Bird with Anna a few feet in front of me as student director. As those involved in the show can attest, I'd be one person on the stage and then immediately switch over to being another person when I'd go backstage. I was the best part of that production (not huge praise, the show was garbage) and it's probably the best acting I've ever done because of all the improv I was allowed to do. Yet I couldn't fully appreciate it because of what I was going through.

The remainder of the year was less stressful and went without incident. I continued with my regular therapeutic treatment and things improved considerably. While I was treated in a psych ward one other time, I've never made another suicide attempt since 2005. I have problems with depression on and off. Sometimes I've even had fleeting suicidal thoughts. I've had depression for 20 years now. Maybe more. I doubt that it's something that I'll ever be completely rid of. However, I haven't suffered from my depression for a while now. There's a number of reasons for this. My faith, better treatments, support from my family, etc.

Suicide and the mental illnesses that influence people to commit it aren't always addressed in the most productive manner. I've been blessed to be surrounded by people that are sympathetic to those that are enduring mental illness. Unfortunately, not everyone is so charitable. A lot of this can be chalked up to ignorance. Other times it's just a lack of empathy.

One particular thing that I commonly hear from people is that suicide is a selfish act. Sadly, this even extends to some within the Church, along with certain doctrines (read: unbiblical doctrines) that suicide is a one-way ticket to hell. There could not be a more counter-productive thing to say to someone in that situation. People who are suicidal are in pain and they're looking for a way to stop that pain. That's not selfish and to say so is to trivialize their suffering. You wouldn't tell a person with a broken arm that they're selfish for wanting their pain to stop.

Now I need to make my point clear: suicide is wrong and it's a bad thing. But the people who make that choice or attempt to do so are not doing it with a clear mind. Their judgment is impaired, frequently through no fault of their own. They're making the wrong choice but they're doing it because they can't see that any other answer might work.

Secondly, a person shouldn't live merely to satisfy another person's desire. A person should live because they know that their life in itself, independent from others, is worth living. Now I realize that I sound like a hypocrite in saying this, based on my own experience. I threw the suicide option out after seeing what it put my mother through. But I understood through that ordeal that there was some value to my continued existence that I just wasn't seeing. Therefore it became a necessity to endure in order to find out why I should value my life. I may not have wanted to live at that time, but I also didn't want to die. I wasn't consciously aware of it, but it was something to keep me going. It's entirely possible that what I'm saying is what people mean. If this is the case, then that message is not being effectively conveyed in the statement, "Suicide is a selfish act." My suggestion is that we discard it and find a better way of articulating that sentiment.

My intent with this entry is two-fold. The first is to provide hope, however small, to individuals that may be struggling with suicidal thoughts. The second is that in relating my experience, my goal is to educate those who don't suffer from mental illness and cultivate an empathetic attitude towards those who do. I don't think about April 2005 as much as I used to. Almost 13 years later and I still find myself trying to make sense of it all. But I continue to learn from my mistake. While it was awful to go through and to put others through, it's provided me with some valuable insight and a sense of gratitude and optimism.

-L. Travis Hoffman

9/15/2017

Postscript

Given that I've referred to Anna by name in this entry, I think it's only fair that I give her what's due. I don't want to leave any lasting negative impressions of her. She's a lovely person and while we haven't spoken in some time, the hatchet has long since been buried. Mistakes were made. Ob-La-Di, Ob-La-Da. 

Tribalism and Ecumenism

For having such an ever-increasing presence within our culture, tribalism is a word that isn't getting much use when it comes to describing current tensions in the world. Yet it couldn't be more accurate a description. Every day that I turn on the news I discover something that leads me to believe that we've all lost our minds.

Tribalism among ethnic groups has become the issue that's dominating the media. Now I must admit that I've always been rather puzzled by this, generally speaking. There could be any number of reasons why this is the case, not least of which is that I'm a white dude (with some possible Jewish background, although that's conjecture as of this posting). Several of my cousins are of multi-ethnic origins as was one of my closest friends from childhood. That shared bond between us came from familial love or just sharing mutual interests. Color didn't really ever enter into the equation.

Now ideological tribalism, that I can understand on some level. We're dealing in values and world views. We're talking about motivations and methodology. Unlike the genes we're born with, we have control and can change and evolve with ideology. We can debate the merits. But I still find myself very leery of ever joining a team, especially if it calls for unconditional support. It's why I've never joined a political party or identified with any particular philosophy. I can't bring myself to be tribal where my world views are concerned.

Except for Christianity.

That's not to say the Church doesn't have its own turf wars, so to speak. Even within Christendom we've had tribalism. Which is really what this entry is about. With the increase of divisiveness among our peers, what does this mean for Christianity? Are the denominations going to be driven further apart or brought closer together?

My answer is that we should be cautiously optimistic. I think we've made huge ecumenical strides with Roman Catholic-Protestant relations. Most notably with the Joint Declaration on the Doctrine of Justification in 1999. In the past year, I've heard of at least two books that came out dealing with the topic of ecumenism in positive ways. Even I have become a little less chilly in my attitude toward Roman Catholicism. There's still some push-back and understandably so. I've mentioned in previous posts that I have certain reservations in relation to doctrine, but they aren't really anything that I would classify as deal-breakers.

I should also mention the explosion in demographics at my church. Our congregation keeps growing in its diversity. People of all sorts of different backgrounds. It looks like a Benetton ad. And not just ethnic, cultural, or socioeconomic diversity either. We're getting people from all sorts of denominations attending. There's some occasional head-butting when discussing doctrine. In a non-denominational church, that's to be expected. I would say that more often than not, it's productive discussion. We're not perfect, to be sure. But I look at all this progress and I imagine that it's a little glimpse of what the Church will look like one day.

I don't think it will be without its labor pains, however. Eventually, the Protestants will have to cease protesting. Which means that those of us who aren't Roman Catholics will more than likely have to give ground on some things. For that matter, Roman Catholics will have to make concessions for the Protestants. What that will be, I have no idea. With the misunderstanding of salvation and justification more or less resolved, the two biggies are papal authority and certain doctrines concerning Mary. Then we also have the myriad disagreements between the various Protestant denominations that need to be ironed out. We look to have our work cut out for us, but I don't believe it's insurmountable.

I once said that denominations are a good thing and that homogeneity would dilute the Church. Historically speaking, I still think that it's true. We need to be critical in our understanding of doctrine and ensure that it's ultimately consistent with the Bible. That has inevitably led to the formation of denominations.  However, I don't think we need be divided forever.

And with that, I will leave you with this funny image in my head of Jesus coming down from the heavens and instructing the churches to form into Voltron.


"Lutherans and Anglicans, form feet and legs! Catholics and Orthodox, form arms and body! And I'll form the head!"

-L. Travis Hoffman

8/24/2017

The Vegetable Analogy

Going to church is like eating vegetables.

That simile right there is the perfect stance to hold when considering whether to go to church or sleep in.

This came to me after reading an article from The Federalist that attributed millennials' lack of interest in religion to Vacation Bible School. While I'm not totally onboard with the author's critique of VBS, his article makes a valid point about our culture's attitude toward church. It's an attitude that says that people in church must be entertained and enthralled at all costs. This can lead to vacuous and/or cornball attempts at teaching biblical truths to children. If you've ever gone to Sunday school or VBS, you'll likely remember a few things that even as a child you were rolling your eyes at. But this problem also extends to adults. It could be the person speaking or the subject matter they discuss. It could be the music played. It could be any number of things, but it mostly comes down to us not wanting to be bored.

If there's one thing that we millennials hate, it's being bored. Technology has largely alleviated that problem and when we do find ourselves deprived, it's absolute torture. We've come to associate boredom with wasted time, so any activity that is under-stimulating is immediately assumed as being unnecessary and not worth re-visiting. But boredom is important, especially for the mind. It fosters creativity and introspection. Virtually every post on this blog is the result of me not having anything interesting to do and just letting my mind wander.

Church is boring. A lot. Not all the time, mind you, but it can be very boring and that's a good thing. It makes it easier for you to quiet your mind and consider the words of the sermon. If you are able to do these things then you are more likely to apply the lessons and benefit from them.

Now about those vegetables. Vegetables are good for you but they generally don't taste all that great. Sometimes they're downright disgusting. But if you don't eat them, you won't grow and your health will diminish. In that same way, church isn't always pleasant. However, if you don't push past that then you can't grow spiritually.

Some of the greatest parenting to ever come from my mom and dad was when they would force me to go to church when I didn't want to. It sent a message that said, "Not everything that's good and worthwhile is fun." It's true and it's something I think about whenever the church vs. sleep issue comes up.

I'm not suggesting that churches should avoid tapping into pop culture altogether. Christianity is always relevant and sometimes it's helpful to do just that in order to illustrate a point. But it shouldn't be at the expense of the message or purely for the sake of putting butts in seats. Nor should we encourage a mentality that craves constant stimulation.

There's a few simple things that could reduce the boredom association problem while avoiding compromise. To start, it would probably be helpful to eschew the word "school" from the church setting. That is the last word that kids want to hear on their downtime. For adults, I think we should seek meatier topics to delve into. Apologetics, theology, and church history are largely MIA from sermons, which is a huge disservice and does nothing to cultivate intellectualism within modern Christendom. I have my issues with Roman Catholicism, but at least they don't forget where they come from. Christianity is a big deal, so let's stop treating it like a self-help course and start regarding it as the cultural revolution that it is.

-L. Travis Hoffman

8/20/2017