It’s early for me to be already considering sleep, but this evening has been slow and just within the last hour have I felt myself crawling out of the funk I’ve been in this week. And as I felt myself calming down, I tucked Drew in for the night, lit a candle in the bedroom, stacked my books by the pillow, filled up a large glass of ice cold water, and decided to read until I fell asleep. But the more I read, the more I knew I wanted to write. So here I am.
I’ve had a lot on my heart this week. An awful lot. But their hasn’t been any time to write. Since Daniel has been away, I’ve been going full-throttle with the things he normally takes care of and then of course, my normal things. That may seem like not such a big deal to you but this week has been a wake up call on how much I take Daniel for granted. But more on that later.
A lot of things have gone horribly wrong this week. I’m used to Daniel always unlocking the door for us so I never carry my keys with me. Our car keys are separate so the only keys I’m ever used to carrying are those. I’ve locked myself out of the house several times this week and I’ve had to track down my mom (who was staying with Granny who is doing better – thanks for all of your comments, thoughts, and prayers!) and get an extra set of keys they have to our BACK door. Since the Moho is tiny anyways, each time I opened the back door I had to crawl over the high chair and three baskets of laundry waiting to be washed. That is the only space I can really use in the house for sitting things temporarily and wouldn’t you know that it was FULL each time I had to come in through the back door.
I broke a glass all over the floor and had to get on my hands and knees to attempt to find all of the shards and itty bitty pieces. I thought I’d cleaned it up enough to walk on (for me) and then I was planning on mopping in the evening before I let Drew walk in the kitchen. But I kept putting off mopping. And wouldn’t you know that I FOUND ANOTHER PIECE. My foot bears the scar.
My dad has been loaning me a truck of his this week to use (it’s huge and I feel like a redneck using it) and yesterday evening, on the way home from McDonald’s (because I was fed up with the “good” food at home and I was DYING to get out of the house) Drew started shrieking. It was a painful shriek. I started watching him out of the corner of his eye and he kept pushing his fingers against the side of his jaw and screaming. Sure enough, I checked at a red light and he has about a billion teeth coming in ALL AT ONCE. Poor kid. 🙁 We had about ten more minutes before we reached home so I pulled out all the stops and tried to comfort him the whole way I was driving home. The only thing that worked was when I would turn on the inside car light. He would shout “LIIIIIGHT” and smile faintly.
This afternoon I packed him BACK in the truck to head to the grocery store and attempted to start the truck. Dead. I’d left the inside light on all night and it drained the battery. Sigh. So, I called Mom and begged to use her van and pulled it down in the yard and switched the car seats successfully (I’ve NEVER done anything with the car seat – Daniel has always done it) in the 1000 degree heat and we finally headed to Publix. Of course, the minute that Drew saw the balloons in the store he began shouting B’LLOOOOOOON and only way I could keep him quiet was to tie one to the shopping kart buggy. And that really didn’t keep him quiet, per-se. He just wasn’t as loud. The problem was that all the balloons I saw said Happy Birthday. And I didn’t have the heart to tell several little old ladies who congratulated him on his birthday that it was not, in fact, my son’s birthday.
I loaded him back into the van with all the groceries and managed to the keep the balloon out of my face so I could drive. And that’s when I heard the angels singing ZAXBY’S, Jennifer, ZAXBY’S. And being a girl who never turns down the call of angels singing about fried chicken, I once again ignored the very-good-for-me food at home and whipped into Zaxby’s for a little food-will-make-me-feel-better. When the girl at the drive through shouted Happy Birthday out the window, I decided I should go ahead and tell her that it was NOT his birthday. That resulted in said girl leaning further out of the window, almost in my personal space, and telling me a five minute story about how her really cute oh my word precious 18 month old does the very same thing oh my word. I was so hungry and I just wanted to pop open my plate of food and start eating with a little, *chew* “oh, yeah?” *chew* But I didn’t. I waited. And smiled. Because it’s possible that the fried chicken angels were listening.
Like I said earlier, all of the stress of the week has just been a huge reminder of how much I take Daniel for granted. I suddenly have this huge, amazingly massive amount of respect for single parents. This will probably make me sound spoiled and weird, but Daniel always carries Drew for me if we are together, he takes the trash to the recycling center, he listens for Drew if I need to run an errand and Drew is sleeping (remember, his office is next door and he has a baby monitor), he always UNLOCKS THE DOOR FOLKS, he always switches the car seat if we go out with Mom and Dad, and so much more. Just as he was feeling odd on Saturday as our roles were reversed and he was preparing the food, changing the diapers, cleaning up, organizing, doing laundry, and I was sitting comfortably in my chair writing for Blogathon…I suddenly feel overwhelmed as I realize that I’m doing both roles for the first time and it is HARD. Not the hardest thing I’ve ever done. Just different.
I’m not trying to get sympathy necessarily. I know it could be a LOT worse and obviously, we are a team and it’s a blessing to have someone else with which to share parenting. But I just think I’m beginning to realize that I’ve just expected Daniel to do these things because he’s here. It was a big adjustment when he stopped working from home and moved into the office next door. That meant that if I needed to lift a billion pound box, I couldn’t just shout for him and he would come out of the next room to help. It helped us both to get some time apart. It made me realize that I actually just need to buckle up and do this stuff myself. I’m a wife and a mother and I have to do both things. That’s what I’ve chosen. And it helped him actually focus on work more because I wasn’t calling him every five minutes to help out, or oh look at what Drew is doing, or do you mind if I sell these three Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy books on eBay because they are so weird and I can’t get into them at all.
But now it’s going to be an even bigger adjustment when we move to Carlisle because he’s going to actually be…away at work. Not just next door. So, what I’ve been experiencing this week will actually be…the way it will be. No more running errands and leaving Drew with Daniel. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not upset about that. Or even fussy. It’s just a reality check for me. I am still relatively new at parenting and since most of our parenting has been in a situation differently than most folks (in that we were together ALL OF THE TIME) maybe you can see where I’m coming from.
The other drama of the flump of this week (what an awesome sentence, yes?) is that I’ve been struggling with everything faith related again. I’ve read enough of the stories of other people who have left fundamentalism to know that it’s normal to feel as though the ground underneath you, theologically, is shaking horridly when you leave. I was reading a book of Bible stories to Drew this week and I suddenly started sobbing as I wondered how on earth we could decide how to teach Drew about faith and a relationship with God. It was so much easier when I lived a life of rules. It’s hard to walk away from a list of things that I KNOW are just not-what-Christians-should-do and a list of things that I KNOW are things-that-Christians-should-do and learn to walk carefully while listening to the Spirit.
I’m being vulnerable when I write this but it has made me rethink everything I’ve ever been taught. I’m remembering sermons, classes, books, and trying to look at it all through Scripture alone and not just through the glasses of Independent-Baptist and Conservative Thought and Rush Limbaugh Loving and President Bush Can Do No Wrong and especially Keswick Theology.
Camille’s thoughts on Keswick Theology is…well, just read it. Wow.
In my Moody seminar, we discussed the Keswick “movement.” I think we can call it a movement. It started as a camp in the mid-nineteenth-century in Keswick in the UK, a lake-front resort town. The kind of Christianity described and promoted in this camp resonated with D.L. Moody and contributed to his success in the British revivals there in 1873-1875. When Moody returned to the US for his American revivals, he had already digested this Keswick doctrine and became its chief American importer.If you’ve heard yourself repeating “Let go and let God.” you’re citing Keswick. If you’ve ever sung, “Oh, to be Nothing” or “I Surrender All.” you’re singing Keswick songs. If you’ve been vexed by the necessity for continuous consecrations, if you’ve heard about the “second blessing,” if you’ve heard sermons on “the victorious life,” if you’ve ever been motivated to “dedicate” your life to Christ, if you’ve ever participated in Campus Crusade, that’s a Keswick influence (Marsden 78).
Keswickian proponents try to negotiate among a Calvinist “total depravity,” a Wesleyan “eradication” or “perfection,” and a Pentecostal “baptism of the Holy Spirit.” George Marsden explains it as follows: “as long as Christ dwelt in the heart a Christian could be free from committing any known sin. There was therefore no excuse for tolerating any known vice, appetite, or sinful habit” (78). Marsden gives a lengthy description of Keswick’s influence on contemporary fundamentalism in his now classic, Fundamentalism and American Culture: The Shaping of Twentieth-Century Evangelism, 1870-1925. Their popular metaphor is that “sinful nature is like an uninflated balloon with a cart (the weight of sin) attached. Christ fills the balloon and the resulting buoyancy overcomes the natral gravity of our sin. While Christ fills ours lives we do not have a tendency to sin, yet we still are liable to sin. Were we to let Christ out of our lives, sin would immediately take over” (78). Marsden labels Keswick, New Jersey as the new hub of Keswick teaching in the United States and then Columbia Bible College as its intellectual think tank where Keswick notions dominated among the middle-class and Pentecostalism flourished with the more disenfranchised (96). While D. L. Moody popularized it, Scofield and Ironside documented Keswick theology. And Charles Trumball perpetuated the “let go and let God” motto. He elaborated that Christ would rule in us so long as we did not interfere. Objectors claim that “Christ was supposedly let in and out of peoples’ lives like steam or electricity turned on or off” (98).Marsden rightly reminds his readers that Keswick works in the US because the notion of “free will” is an “American dogma” (99). Keswick negotiates between God’s sovereignty and man’s free will. Marsden ends his chapter on Keswick history by addressing it as a dispensational compliment within the Bible institute movement. It softened the often hard edge of “more objective arguments” and the harder edge of a cultural pessimism by focusing on individual success (100-01).
Such is the history, but M. James Sawyer lays out the Keswick theology. For the Keswickian there are two types of Christian: carnal and normal. For the normal Christian, the self is dethroned, yielded, absent. Any hint of self-identity, however, is carnal. Sin, in the Keswickian perspective, is overwhelmingly powerful. And while it can never be eradicated, it must be continually thwarted. Full surrender is the only solution; anything less is willful rebellion. What this comes down to is complete capitulation of anything human or anything personal. The self is useless. It has no rights, no personality, and no humanity.
Sawyer also points out the formulaic quality to the Keswick mindset. If you hear “there are just five simple steps to a successful Christian walk,” beware! This simplicity is only possible with an eradication of any difficult feelings. For the Keswickian, a strong faith is proven in positive “feelings.” Negative or strong feelings demonstrate self-rule and are, thus, to be avoided (read: denied) at all cost.
Keswick teaching assumes a Gnostic kind of dualism-the good angel and the bad devil sitting on the shoulders of every believer, ready to duke it out for ultimate control. When the believer remains completely passive, then the “good” side may take over. But any sign of will is certain doom.
But the fact of the matter is, as Sawyer points out, there is no metaphor of “control” in the New Testament. The Good Shepherd does not lord over His sheep. The husband does not strive to control his wife. Christ does not boss the church. Instead, there’s a metaphor of “leading.”
“In fact, a result of the Spirit’s ministry on our lives is self-control, this would hardly seem possible if the regenerate self were still totally evil as Keswick claims,” Sawyer reminds his readers.
Sawyer’s principle critique is that Keswick is merely a kind of Holiness teaching that leads to introspection, elitism, and simplistic spirituality. By redefining sin from missing the mark (something we all do by our nature) to stubborn rebellion (something we choose to do by our will), they move the legalism from the objective sphere to the subjective. It is then even more impossible to be a good Christian because the standard is fuzzy and super-human.
So much for Sawyer and the 19th-century. In the drama of Keswick, believers are very much the actors, holding the reigns, controlling the outcome. They are acting upon God who is merely the scene. They seem to view the Christian walk as a tightrope that we must constantly balance all our weight upon. One little slip to the left or the right, one little glimpse down below, and we’re doomed.
The thing that’s so obnoxious to me is that I hear this Keswickian struggle at every turn. From a popular writer and speaker and counselor:
“Our greatest danger is always the flesh.”
“Dealing with such topics as learning to exercise self-restraint, recognizing reality, walking in wisdom, and setting a godly example, Changed Into His Image has been the key for thousands of believers to unlock the mysteries of overcoming and fruitful living.”
From an ever-present tract:
“Not far down this road you meet the second: the Cross of Dedication. It is you, not Christ, who must hang upon this cross. It is a cross of death to self. As a Believer, you realize this truth and place yourself upon this cross, believing that by dying to self you will be spiritually alive to serve Jesus Christ. Your life is saved and your works of faith will produce rewards in Heaven.”
But I hear it in conversations too. From my friend who is grieving the loss of her child and won’t admit her sadness because it doesn’t seem Christian. From a harsh counselor who insists that depression is just a sin problem and taking antidepressants indicates a weak Christian commitment. From an acquaintance who denies her vulnerability but pitifully and futilely shines the veneer of her perfect Christian life. From a preacher who insists that any whiff of self-esteem is ungodly. From a colleague who refuses to hear any appeals to our rights as citizens because we have no rights. From a friend’s cutesy knick-knack that quips “there are two choices on the shelf, pleasing God and pleasing self.” From a punitive culture that insists upon controlling rather than leading, dismissing rather than reflecting, inflicting pain rather than teaching. From a trenchant capitalism that perpetuates the idea that just one more product wil perfect our boring love lives, our overweight bodies, and our jammed careers.
I was discussing this with a seasoned professor that I admire who’s writing a book to counteract our culture’s avoidance of strong feelings. He reminded me that Dr. Bob, Sr. founded BJU in defiance of the Bible Institute movement and Keswick teaching. He saw the Christian walk as less a mysterious balance and more a plain common sense. And yet it has creeped in. Maybe because it sells so well.
The Christian walk is not a punitive balance on a tenuous tight-rope. It’s more like a walk in a state park, with God’s boundaries clearly delineated, through which we can wander fairly freely under His leading, enjoying the valleys and the hilltops, but always safe in His care. He is always sovereign, having created our personalities for His pleasure. We are human, and being human isn’t a sin. Trying to be super-human is.”
I’m so tired of viewing life as one lesson after another and boy, you don’t want to mess up and FAIL GOD’S LESSON FOR YOUR LIFE. Because he will make you retake that lesson again and the second time around is WORSE. What type of warped theology is that?? I mean, really! I’m tired of always assuming that we have “more light” than other believers and that must be the reason that even though we really love Ravi Zacharias and highly respect him, we can’t agree with him on his choice of a version of the Bible. And that our “higher amount of light” is the reason why we choose not to “dress like the world” even though we can fellowship with other believers who do.
Maybe it sounds like I’m bitter. :-
Maybe I am. I know bitterness is not echoing God’s heart at all. And as I cling to Him more, and learn to walk in this relationship without a rulebook, my prayer is that the bitterness will disappear and I’ll learn to appreciate the good parts of my theological foundation and let go of the rest. Without malice.
This is why I wept when I read to Drew. Because it’s such an immense burden to teach your children about God. I want to teach carefully. I want to teach Drew how to talk with God and how to walk with God. And to not be afraid to question, to ponder, and to scream out in frustration.
Whew.
All of that to say…this has been a hard week. And I’m ready for my lover, my partner, my sweetheart, my darling, and my dear sweet husband to be home. By the way, THOSE ARE ALL THE SAME PERSON. 😉