A Promise Ring Rebuttal

So let's talk about promise rings.

In case you are not familiar with the phenomenon, promise rings rose to popularity during my upbringing. It became customary for many Christian fathers to give these rings to their daughters as a symbol of chastity and the virtue of celibacy. Sometimes, fathers and daughters would even have ceremonies wherein vows were exchanged, cementing the child's dedication to the noble cause of abstinence. Despite this glorious occasion, many teenage girls stumbled just the same.

Honestly, writing all of that out feels profoundly creepy. It's also worth noting that promise rings only existed among gendered lines -- fathers gave them to daughters, but you did not see mothers nor sons involved in similar exchanges. This smacks of sexism and it's pretty damning to our patriarchal experience writ large, but alas, we'll save that tangent for another post.

In essence, promise rings tethered fathers to the sex lives (or lack thereof) of their daughters. The intent seems innocent or even honorable at face value -- Christian fathers want the best for their children, and purity (whatever that means) is best. Although it seems like a kind gesture, the reality of the promise ring often proved to be very different. In my observation, it proved deeply harmful.

Promise rings, and the typical Christian family's obsession with abstinence, seems like protective parenting, but it may have done more harm than good. In my experience, I have heard countless stories where daughters succumbed to temptation and saw their relationship with their parents wounded in the process. After all, their father had a vested interest in the child's virginity, and losing it was an act of betrayal.

That's not where the injury ends, though. Even women who waited until marriage felt utterly sullied by the totally harmless and seemingly holy act of marital sex. They spent years wearing a ring that reminded them that sex must be avoided at all costs, and when the day came that they were liberated from the ring itself, it still left an imprint on their psyche.

The promise ring is a symbol of ownership over something that cannot be owned. As I recalibrate my own values and beliefs, I question how I can raise my daughters in a different vein than the things I have both witnessed and observed in the past. What does it mean to be a successful secular parent?  I'm still figuring that out, but needless to say, I won't be handing out rings to my children or demanding chastity pledges from them. The mere thought of doing so seems idiotic at best, and profoundly harmful at worst.

As Trevor Noah wrote in his book Born a Crime, "you do not own the thing you love." Parents must never mistake possessive behavior with love. I do not want to demand pledges and oaths of my children -- instead, I want to make pledges to them. It is incumbent upon me as the parent to be the one who forges a path of unconditional acceptance and support in their lives.

One day, when they'd old enough to fathom this conversation, I will give them this vow.

I promise not to own you.
I promise not to hinge my love on how you use your body.
I promise not to stake a claim on your personhood or your sense of autonomy.
I promise not to pit your love for me against your desires or choices.

I'm sure there will be times when this is difficult, but I'm choosing to let go of my old paradigms regarding parenting. I'm letting go of my old, broken definitions of love when it comes to being a father, and I'm searching for a new and beautiful definition in the process.

Thank you for reading On Letting Go, a blog about dealing with the wounds of the past. If you're looking for a little background on what inspired this blog, check out the introduction.  Click here for information on how you can find real and qualified mental health services for yourself or a loved one. 

The Road Not Taken

The arts play an important role in our shared human experience. Through the power of music, writing, dance, and visual arts, we celebrate our victories and we mourn our losses. We reminisce and we pine for better days. We flesh out our vulnerabilities through the arts. Perhaps even more crucially, we learn to understand ourselves.

As a creative person, I recognize that one role of the artist is to provide insight into emotions themselves. A well-written song can provide clarity to a feeling you don't even fully comprehend. Sometimes, the verses of a poet can be revelatory, unearthing the truth beneath our muddled mental processes.

So, when I have an emotion I cannot articulate, I feel incredibly uneasy. This is supposed to be my territory, my expertise... right?

A few summers ago, I was a youth pastor, firmly set on a path towards lifetime ministry. Now, that path has utterly dissapearred from sight. I can hardly recognize the landscape around me. In light of that, I feel a strange sort of visceral response inside when I pass a church or see a Facebook post about ministry. It's not a matter of missing that life. It's also not simply an impulse to object to the issues in the church. It's something else...

It's the shock of beholding the road not taken.

We all have diverging paths in our history. We all have paths we chose not to pursue. It seems, though, that there is a particular and oppressive emotion that  wells up when you actually gaze upon the roads you left behind. We see this romanticized on a relational front when you hear songs talk about "the one that got away". We face the notion of what could have been, and our insides seize up like old machinery. How do we understand this feeling and what do we do with it?

I'm beginning to think that the key to overcoming this feeling is a matter of accepting life as you've lived it. You have a unique trajectory that has led you to this place. Perhaps some of the steps you took were ignorant, and perhaps some of the choices you made were not entirely of your own volition. Regardless, we must all wrestle with the reality of where we've been and how we got here.

I also think a key to processing this feeling is knowing how to mourn your losses. We accept that we can mourn people -- a friend, a family member, a former classmate. But dreams die too. Plans disintegrate. Visions vanish. It is not only acceptable, but crucially necessary to learn how to grieve the losses in your life, in whatever forms they may take.

So, as I recognize that feeling inside of me -- the unease of the road not taken -- I will choose to accept the paths I traveled, as difficult as that may be. I will mourn my losses for what they are. I will live each day seeking to understand, process, and accept my life as I try to bend my trajectory into a new and enlightened direction.

Thank you for reading On Letting Go, a blog about dealing with the wounds of the past. If you're looking for a little background on what inspired this blog, check out the introduction.  Click here for information on how you can find real and qualified mental health services for yourself or a loved one. 

A Multitude of Closets

I want a better world for my children.

We often reflexively connect the idea of "people in the closet" with LGBT individuals, but I've come to broaden my understanding of this social phenomenon recently. You see, we live in a world where individuals that deviate from the norm often feel compelled to shroud their true selves for fear of being persecuted, or worse.

I've come to recognize a multitude of closets.

There are people in your life that hide their true selves from you. They conceal their religious beliefs, they suppress their sexuality, they're embarrassed of their substance struggles or psychiatric issues because of a deep abiding fear of social consequences. Closets abound, everywhere you turn... you just have to identify them with empathy and understanding.  You have to be looking for them.

Beyond the intrinsic worth of empathy, we need to lay hold of a better future wherein people can be honest. Deeply, thoroughly, painfully honest. We are currently operating in a social climate that is, above all else, intellectually dishonest. People have to lie to survive.

I was listening to President Obama speak on a podcast recently. He was waxing poetic about his own legacy, stating that he'd rather remember his time in office as a moment where diverse ideas were included instead of fixating on the minutiae of daily politics. He concluded that, if this legacy of inclusion could be cherished, the fine details of how we eventually overcome climate change or how we provide insurance for millions of Americans won't matter. It's the social philosophy that prevails. We have to champion inclusion as a society.

I identify one poignant truth in all of this: you are either part of the problem or part of the solution. You are either inviting people out of their closets or pushing them further into the darkness. You are either advocating for the marginalized and oppressed, or you are opposing them. Choose a side.

My children deserve a future where diverse ideas are included, because they could very well find themselves on the wrong side of that thin line that demarcates "normalcy". No matter your beliefs regarding the holiness and the divine, all people must recognize the fundamental need for human liberty. It's time to set the captives free.

Free from shame.
Free from condemnation.
Free from the closets we built for them.

Thank you for reading On Letting Go, a blog about dealing with the wounds of the past. If you're looking for a little background on what inspired this blog, check out the introduction.  Click here for information on how you can find real and qualified mental health services for yourself or a loved one. 

Finding Joy in the Ephemeral

"Beauty is its own excuse for being."

That's what my teacher Mr. Dove taught me in my creative writing class back in high school.  Here I am, more than a decade later, and the quote remains true as I ponder the fullness of what it means. At face value, I get it -- beauty needs no pretense, no excuse, no functionality. Beauty speaks for itself. I want to synthesize that mentality, though, and bury it deep down in my psyche.

All things are ephemeral.  Your relationships, your most valued possessions, your body itself -- all of it will one day fade into obscurity. The universe itself will one day cease to function. Every person who has looked mortality in the eye has had to wrestle with their own finite nature. Nonetheless, beauty exists in these temporal structures. Expiration is not damnation.

Just because something is temporary, doesn't mean it's not valuable.

Lives begin and lives end. One of my goals during this season of introspection has been to find joy in the ephemeral. It requires a degree of courage to accept loss without painting the past with a negative and remorseful brush. You can bid farewell to the past without burning it to ashes. You can accept the path behind you.

Everything you hold dear will once cease. I think about this in simple terms to remind myself of its simple truth. Think of one of your favorite belongings for a moment. I, for one, am very attached to my guitar. I find joy in it -- it helps me to relax and find peace in a hectic world. One day, it will no longer function properly. One day, its existence will reach a conclusion.

The conclusion does not nullify the beauty of the narrative that precedes it.

The same could be said with friendships, job experiences, and so much more. I want to learn how to find joy in the ephemeral, because life requires us to say many tearful farewells along the way. I want to reflect with gladness as I mouth each goodbye. As loved ones pass away and time takes its toll, join me in the search for joy in the ephemeral.

Thank you for reading On Letting Go, a blog about dealing with the wounds of the past. If you're looking for a little background on what inspired this blog, check out the introduction.  Click here for information on how you can find real and qualified mental health services for yourself or a loved one. 

Damnation.

It seems tempting to envision a world where people are truly free to believe their own truths and pursue their own paths. However, the reality before us is this: people care about what you believe, because the consequences of disbelief and doubt are supposedly quite severe. Your beliefs are a matter of heaven and hell.

In light of this realization, I understand that friends and family mean well when they wonder about my beliefs. Nonetheless, in the past year I have become dreadfully concerned with the concept of damnation itself, because it strikes to the heart of God's nature. Our thoughts about damnation reveal profound truths about ourselves and how we relate to the divine.

A great deal of religious thought is predicated upon a simple notion:

You're not just flawed -- you're evil. 

The Christian worldview, among other religions, demands the adherent to accept their own filthy nature. It is a prerequisite for all that follows. It is the cost of admission to the entirety of the real church experience. And it troubles me, as a human being and as a father.

This mentality is not necessarily reflected in a child's church experience, though. It's a curious phenomenon that the tone of Christian teaching in a church tends to change dramatically as the participants grow older.  Young children are taught innocuous concepts like "God loves you!" and "teamwork is good!". However, by adulthood, the self-deprecation begins to be woven through each and every message.

You are broken. You are guilty, from birth.
And what is your crime?
  Existing in the second degree, I guess.

I don't know if I can look my children in the eye and tell them they deserve to be tortured eternally.  I don't know if I can embrace that paradigm as I behold their sleeping bodies, laying peacefully in bed at night. I don't know if I can purchase that ticket. I don't want to... and I don't feel sorry about it either.

Now, not all Christian denominations believe in eternal Hell, or in the naturally damned state of man -- but many of them do. That's what scares me.  The majority of the Christian world believes that man is created in a damned, evil state, and that he is on the wide path to eternal torment... and you're telling me the problem is humankind?

Why is Hell eternal, and why is the road so wide and often-travelled? How can my existence be both pre-ordained and inherently evil?

If you believe that God is going to sentence me to harm for BILLIONS or TRILLIONS of years because I am exercising my natural skepticism right now, perhaps you should bring your questions to him. Is that harsh? Maybe... but so is damnation. After years in the Christian bubble, I am re-calibrating what mercy, justice, and love really means. I have daughters to raise and a world to change, and I refuse to despise either for the sake of tired dogma.


Thank you for reading On Letting Go, a blog about dealing with the wounds of the past. If you're looking for a little background on what inspired this blog, check out the introduction.  Click here for information on how you can find real and qualified mental health services for yourself or a loved one. 

The Sympathizer

Millenials love being categorized. That's important to keep in mind for the remainder of this blog post. They seriously adore being defined by shallow labels. Don't forget it.

Every person on Earth is covered in name tags. These stickers remain unseen, but they dictate so much about our lives. Christian, white, southern,  married, democrat, athlete, musician, leader... the list goes on.  Although my generation (millenial and proud, deal with it) has taken great strides to peel off these labels, they remain... and they matter.

People, by and large, distrust and despise atheists. A variety of statistics flesh out the fact that atheism is considered one of the most toxic labels one can wear. Even in our Islamophobic post-9/11 nation, studies indicate that the average citizen have less faith in an atheist than a muslim.

I find this phenomenon particularly baffling considering that, most people tread the path of the atheist (or at least agnostic) through their daily lives. Practically speaking, most humans live their days as atheists, claiming religious allegiances for the sake of family pride or social connection. They do not consult the gods regarding what to wear everyday and where to go -- they live a decidedly humanistic and material existence. They're just... people.

In light of this, the demonization of the unbeliever is a particular kind of travesty. Here's the thing -- I'm not an atheist*, but I am the atheist's sympathizer. I am the atheist's advocate. Bear with me on this one before you violently chuck your laptop in anger, OK?

Here's the deal... In the corners of the internet where I often dwell, atheist thought abounds. Scientists, skeptics, you know the type. I don't always agree with their assertions... but I do understand. That's what I want to embody in my life and that's what I want to see: more understanding and less pious categorization.

Perhaps one of the most commonplace philosophical arguments against God as we know it comes from the Greek Epicurus. He stated:

Is God willing to prevent evil, but not able? Then he is not omnipotent.
Is he able, but not willing? Then he is malevolent.
Is he both able and willing? Then whence cometh evil?
Is he neither able nor willing? Then why call him God?

Now, Christian, I am not asking you to agree. I am asking you to understand. Can you fathom a life wherein a person reaches the same conclusion? I can. If I lived in some war-torn country where I watched my children wither from starvation, yeah. I'd agree. I'd feel incapable of believing otherwise, probably. That's just one simple scenario, but we could unravel a multitude of similar ones.

We are all learners, gathering evidence about God's nature from the life we live and the things we witness, both beautiful and horrifying. Who am I to insist that someone should bend their conclusion to fit into my contours? This is the height of audacity -- discounting the human before you in favor of your own preconceptions.

So when I read an atheist meme on Instagram or Facebook, or I see a quote from Dawkins online, I seek to understand the human dynamic within it. People of every faith must do the same if they have any hope of serving the people they adamantly insist that they love. If you love the "lost", listen to them. They have stories to tell -- tales of heartbreak and skepticism, belief and disillusionment.

This is not to say that all atheist thought is borne out of suffering or bitterness -- I certainly don't think that. Indeed, skepticism is a cornerstone of intellectual thinking in general, and every person of faith should test their own beliefs to determine if they are worthy of believing.  If you must plug your ears to avoid the claims of the skeptic, perhaps your paper-thin doctrines deserve to be destroyed.

In any case, my general approach with all trains of thought regarding belief and truth are to seek first to understand. I'm letting go of the partitions that I used to build around my heart and mind. I want to grant the basic dignity of listening to those with whom I disagree. I want to seek truth in a manner that is profoundly curious and unrelentingly compassionate. 

*how I categorize my faith is none of your business. Enough with the labels!

Thank you for reading On Letting Go, a blog about dealing with the wounds of the past. If you're looking for a little background on what inspired this blog, check out the introduction.  Click here for information on how you can find real and qualified mental health services for yourself or a loved one. 

Lessons in Music: The Ostinato

   The arts can be revelatory -- we can learn about the world and about ourselves through music, films, and books. As a musician, I also find insights and revelations in the creative process as it unfolds. The creating experience itself can be a mechanism for introspection and self-discovery.

Lately, I've had one particular idea on my mind -- the ostinato. In music composition, an ostinato is a continually repeated phrase or idea.  It is a motif, a common thread or theme that prevails throughout the entire composition. I've come to realize that our lives and the grand arc of our families can sometimes contain these repetitions and themes as well.

In light of this realization, one question beckons for an answer:

    How do we break the generational patterns and cycles that ensnare us?

Think about your family history. So often, the same frustrating patterns repeat over and over. In my family, suicide has been prevalent -- my mother and both of my grandfathers took their own lives. This knowledge can be heart-breaking to reflect upon, but I have to go beyond mere thought and step forward into intentional action. In the wake of this tragic history, I must embrace two critical steps:

1) Realizing the reality of this generational burden...

2) ...and choosing to defy my past on a real and daily basis.

Whether it's substance abuse, or chronic health problems, or self-destructive tendencies, we must face the repeating motifs of those that came before us. We have to dissect and understand the motivations, the deficiencies, and the missteps that perpetuated this ostinato. This may look vastly different to each person, but the underlying truth remains the same:

We must face the burdens of the past to overcome them effectively. 

I'm still unraveling what it means to defy my family's past. As I continue to discover and unpack these ideas, my hope is that I can press forward with intention and consistency.  I may be powerless to alter the past, but I still want to change my future -- I want to rewrite this grand and overarching melody for the benefit of my children and my community.

Thank you for reading On Letting Go, a blog about dealing with the wounds of the past. If you're looking for a little background on what inspired this blog, check out the introduction.  Click here for information on how you can find real and qualified mental health services for yourself or a loved one.