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December 8, 2015December 8, 2015

Why We Need You to NOT Unfriend, Unfollow, or Block Those You Disagree With On Social Media

download — Photo by Martin Knize via Unsplash

Recently someone in my Facebook timeline posted a particularly strong opinion regarding gun control, then went to bed. By the time he woke up the next morning, he discovered that two people he knew had traded arguments and insults in a thread of over 100 comments.

“Well,” he wrote. “You guys have been busy.”

It often seems that we as a world population are more sharply divided than ever. Post an opinion you have on Facebook, anything from the best burger joint to the reason there are so many shootings in this country, and within moments you’ll probably have people vehemently arguing for and against. Some will support you silently with a “like” while others block the post. Some will sing your praises and others will compare you to dog feces.

This is especially true with the hot-button issues of the day: Donald Trump, Syrian refugees, shootings, ISIS, abortion, gay marriage, politics. Never before have we had the forum, and felt so free, to disagree, insult, or take issue with the opinions of people we don’t know and will never meet.

The fractures between us seem to be widening.

* * * * *

About a month ago I started getting involved with a refugee organization here in the city of Lancaster called Church World Service. They help refugees arriving in central PA get acclimated to life in a new country. I asked them if I could help tell the stories of the individuals they were helping, they said yes, and off we went.

A few weeks later, the shooting took place in Paris. Suddenly I realized that many of my friends were against the continued reception of Syrian refugees. I had spent the previous few weeks hearing stories and meeting these hardworking refugees, and my friends didn’t want more of them to come to the US.

I was devastated.

I couldn’t imagine why someone would have the position. I got into a few back-and-forths on Facebook regarding why Christians, of all people, should be helping refugees, no matter the eventual outcome. I felt my insides getting more and more agitated, sort of the way you feel when you start walking across the beach and realize after ten steps that the sand is actually burning your feet.

My initial reaction? Unfollow. Unfriend. Block. I was struggling with the proposition of reading opinions that were diametrically opposed to the things I cared so much about. I wanted to eliminate the source of anxiety.

If anything, this is where social media has become so destructive. It gives us the forum to share our beliefs and opinions without apology, and then it offers us the option of erasing those we disagree with. Before we know it, our online world is nothing more than a group of people affirming our deeply held beliefs and opinions, something that only serves to more deeply entrench us in our positions and alienate us from those who think differently.

Conversations on Facebook start to look like this:

“I believe …”

“Yeah, you’re right!”

“Yeah, thanks!”

“Yeah!”

*like*

* * * * *

Look, I know it’s stressful/annoying/tedious to realize people you know and love are ignorant/stupid/misinformed (or maybe smarter than you).

But we need you to stop alienating yourself from people who disagree with you. Here’s why:

1 – If you are right, if the opinion you have is so correct and righteous and true, then why are you getting upset? You need to stay friends with the idiots, if only in the hope that at some point they will start to see the sense you are making. This will probably not happen on Facebook, but it might. I’ve changed my mind on a lot of things in the last five years, mostly because I became friends with people online and started to recognize the validity of their beliefs.

2 – If you are wrong (and I know that is probably impossible to imagine at this point), then you are the idiot, and hopefully something they say someday will click with you.

3 – If you are both right and wrong in different ways (and I suspect this to be the usual case), then perhaps your opinions and beliefs, by getting together and hanging out a little with the opinions and beliefs of others, can procreate into some third, new, transformative way of viewing the world. Wouldn’t that be impressive? Wouldn’t that be fun?

* * * * *

Next time we’ll talk about why it’s important to share your opinions and beliefs regarding important matters in a tone of kindness. I know – that’s a hard one to grasp. For now, consider keeping the lines of communication open between you and people who think differently. Dialogue with (and about) each other in respectful ways.

The future of humanity might depend on our ability to talk to each other across the wide open spaces created by disagreement.

December 3, 2015

When Your Country is a Prison – Ahmed’s Story #RefugeeStories

photo-1431609366831-6d9f25cf2356 — Photo by Glen Noble via Unsplash

It was early afternoon and my wife, the kids, and I were in North Carolina, preparing to celebrate Thanksgiving with Maile’s family. I had to hide away in one of the upstairs bedrooms to find a quiet place to make the call.

I had emailed back and forth with Ahmed but we hadn’t spoken yet. The entire time I listened to his story I could hear the hum of laughter and shouting from the rest of my in-laws’ house. The holidays were in full swing for us. His story reminded me that in many parts of the world, the approach of Christmas means something else entirely.

Here is Ahmed’s story.

* * * * *

I live outside Philadelphia now with my wife and my five-year-old daughter. I’d rather you didn’t use my real name. Perhaps you could just refer to me as Ahmed.

Conditions here are much better than where I grew up in Karachi, Pakistan. There are over 23 million people in Karachi, and it’s the second largest city in the world. I was born and raised there and my life was always life in the big city. Everything there is very busy. Very hectic.

98% of the people in Pakistan are Muslim. The remaining 2% are other religions. My parents, my grandparents, all of my ancestors – they were Christians. I am a Christian, too, and that made it very difficult for me in my city.

What happened to me there? So many things. I worked as a lab technician in a hospital after graduating, and I was the only Christian there. My supervisors made it very difficult for me. They thought that I should convert to Islam, but I am satisfied as a Christian.

“That’s not possible for me,” I told them, and this turned them against me. That’s when things got much worse.

There is a law in Pakistan against blasphemy. If someone says a bad word against the prophet or the holy book, or if someone tries to convert someone to anything besides Islam, this is punishable by beheading. Not all Muslims there are like this, but some of them pull a few words from the Koran to justify this. The people I worked with threatened me, threatened to use this law against me. Then someone published an article in a religious paper that I was propogating Christianity, trying to convert Muslims, and this simply was not true. But I knew if certain people read that article, it would not be good for me.

Religious scholars put out a fatwa against me, which technically means it is their religious duty to catch me and kill me. Anyone. Not necessarily the officials. Anyone. They wouldn’t wait for legal procedures. They would do it themselves.

Many Christians live in Pakistan in fear.

A few years ago I applied to US universities and was accepted, but it is not easy getting out of Pakistan. The country is like a prison for us. You’re not welcome there, and you’re not always free to leave. If you apply for a passport, you might get one, you might not. If you apply for a visa, you might get one, you might not. You often must bribe officials simply to get on the plane to leave.

But even Christian countries don’t always welcome Christian Pakistanis. Christians living in Muslim countries are often caught between.

I will graduate from the university this December. I hope I can stay here after that. I applied for asylum through Church World Service and am now waiting for the interview.

It is not easy to go to church in Pakistan. You have to be very careful. My wife likes it here for that reason – she is free here to go to church whenever she wants. She likes it in the US. My daughter, too, is happy here. She is comfortable.

We don’t face any problems here in the US. Everyone is kind to us. I’m comfortable with my classmates and teachers. I was able to get work authorization which makes things much better for us.

So I’m waiting for an interview call. Once that is scheduled then something will be clear for me. Right now, nothing. I don’t know what my future will be.

* * * * *

When Your Work Feels So, So Small

photo-1417144413558-cf029e0c7a04 — Photo by Louis Moncouyoux via Unsplash

I’ve been a Christian since I was old enough to pass the communion wine, so sweet, and taste the salty crackers that were His body. My dad was a pastor for almost forty years. I know how churches work. I know what most of them are trying to do.

But I still don’t like being a visitor. I don’t like when strangers talk to me – I mostly want to be left alone. I don’t like the feeling that the stakes are suddenly very high for these people – I don’t like feeling as if they feel that any small thing they might do could determine whether or not I come back. It’s all rather strange.

So, to all you folks who are interested in spirituality or learning more about God but just can’t get into the idea of visiting a church: I get it. Church people can be strange.

But in spite of my hesitancy, I woke up on Sunday at my in-laws place in North Carolina and really wanted to go to church. The main reason being, it was the first Sunday of Advent, my favorite time of the year. We’ve been attending St. James Episcopal Church for about a year and a half, so we’ve been through the Liturgical calendar once, and some of my favorite services took place on the Sundays leading up to Christmas.

The slowness.

The candles.

The anticipation.

So I found the closest Episcopal Church, which happened to be All Saints in Gastonia, NC. Lucy said she’d come with me, bless her cotton socks, and the two of us headed out for an adventure. The front door wasn’t clearly marked, so we kind of wandered around outside the small building for a little while and Lucy held my hand until someone told us which way to go.

Someone met us at the door and shook my hand. Of course, in my nervousness I couldn’t speak very well.

“Hi,” I said, “My name is Shawn. This is my wife…er…my daughter, Lucy.”

Well, that was embarrassing.

The sanctuary was small, maybe ten pews on each side, and there were only a handful of people there when we arrived. It was a new experience for this northern guy, hearing the confession and the prayers and the scriptures read in that deep, southern drawl. It was good.

The first thing I noticed though, the first thing I was looking for, was the lone candle lit at the front of the church, the first candle of Advent. It was like everything else was still and waiting, but that candle? It was alive and moving and powerful. Strange, I know, that a tiny little candle would seem that way, but it did.

Powerful. Alive.

* * * * *

It’s been a little over a month since I met with Church World Service and asked if I could help them tell the stories of the refugees they are working with here in central Pennsylvania. It’s been three weeks since I met Miriam. Last week I spoke with Ahmed (and will tell you his story soon). I hope to keep meeting more refugees who have relocated here. I want to keep sharing their stories with you because it feels like such important work, especially in these days of fear and suspicion.

But sometimes the work feels so, so small. Do you ever feel that way? Do you ever wonder, What difference am I actually making? Instead of taking the time to meet all these new people, listening to their stories, and writing them down, wouldn’t it be easier to stay at home? Watch television. Hang out with my family. Anything really. I have plenty of other things to do.

Sometimes these beautiful things we are called to do seem so inconsequential.

How can this one small thing ever make a difference?

* * * * *

The service was comforting because it was mostly the same as our service back in Lancaster, and I realized that’s one of the nice things about the traditional churches: you kind of know what to expect. We prayed the same prayers as our friends back home. We said the same confession. We recited the same creed. We read the same scriptures. I imagined what Father David would have chosen to pull out of those passages. I imagined the stories Father Rob would have told.

Lucy and I sat there and she held my hand, my little daughter of light, and the singing was nice and the sermon was good but I couldn’t take my eyes off of that Advent wreath with its one, solitary candle burning. Such a small thing in such a wide world, that tiny candle.

So inconsequential.

Like me.

Like the things I try to do.

And in that moment I felt an immense peace. The world does not hinge on my good works. Thank God. The world will not rise or fall based on the popularity of my blog posts, the perfection of my parenting, or the amount of things I manage to acquire. There is a much greater hope, a far greater anticipation. This is what the season of Advent has to offer us. This is the peace that comes in a quiet, expectant waiting.

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November 24, 2015November 23, 2015

What Do Children Think About Death?

Today we release Episode 02 of The Story of My Death, and it’s a poignant one. Listen in as we speak with Scott and Joy Bennett about their daughter Elli and her difficult entrance into the world. Their children, Sam and Anna, give us a unique, first person account of what it’s like for children who lose a sibling. In the words of Scott:

“You’ll want to listen to this interview when it releases tomorrow. Sam and Anna shared some deep things with Shawn and Caleb about their personal experience of losing Elli that they had never shared in as much detail with us. It’s pretty special.”

As usual when hearing these stories, there is sadness and heaviness, but there is also hope and peace.

A huge thanks to the Bennetts for sharing their story, as well as to our sponsor Wilde Funeral Home. The music in this episode was provided by Jake Lewis.

Check out Episode 02 HERE.

November 21, 2015November 21, 2015

“When I Don’t Know What to Do”

“Good things take time. And if you love the process, that’s okay.”

* * * * *

“We recognize there are many among us who have only just crossed the invisible boundary marking their own before and after, who are looking at calendars today saying This time last week, things were still normal.”

* * * * *

“The primary way our family is keeping it saner this year? By intentionally observing Advent.”

* * * * *

“The world is scary as hell. Love anyway.”

* * * * *

“I simply get to work on ordinary things.

This is all I know to do when I don’t know what to do.”

November 20, 2015November 21, 2015

To My Fellow Parents Who, At Least Once or Twice, Have Failed At This Parenting Gig

photo-1423477491197-ec2f29ac4d6b — Photo by Nikila Jelenkovic via Unsplash

Oh, Parents,

Let me start with the honest part, the part that’s difficult for me to admit: This has been a rough week for parenting in our house. I would use the word disastrous but you might think I am exaggerating. I went to bed the other night and couldn’t sleep because of a huge parenting fail. There may be a few angelic souls out there who ace this gig, but none of them live in this house, and they probably don’t live in yours either. We are, many of us, going to have children who end up in therapy. This is not to say that we are terrible people; this is just to say that this is the world. Besides, going to therapy is one of the best things anyone can do for themselves and the ones they love, so I guess a little nudge in that direction isn’t a terrible thing.

Anyway, after a particularly disastrous day, the elephant of worry sat down on my chest and kept me awake, watching the hours. Has that every happened to you? Have you ever stretched out in bed, so tired but unable to sleep because of that monstrous weight of anxiety? Breathe in, breathe out.

Then, a realization. While I had long thought the sleepless nights and blown-out diapers were the worst that parenting had to throw at me, I saw with clarity that the most difficult part of raising these five kids is now approaching. Puberty, emotional development, leading a still-small human being into their interests and calling. What have I gotten myself into? What have I gotten these poor, five little humans into?

Midnight.

I think the thing about realizing that I will fail my kids, and experiencing one of these major failures, is that I now have such a deep humility and empathy towards other parents. My judgy-ness has fallen away like an old skin. I confess to having harbored scathing opinions towards parents, perhaps even you, who did not do things the way that I thought things should be done. Now? In the wake of these shadows?

I am so sorry for judging your parenting. We are all in this thing together, every single one of us, and we are all doing the absolute best we can with the tools we’ve been given. Some of us have been given crappier tools than others. Some have been handed an entire tool chest with 37 different sized screw drivers and 17 socket wrenches, while others, perhaps because of their own parents or perhaps because of the way this world has weighed on them, having nothing to use but a chisel. Or a measuring tape. Or a hammer.

Use your tools well, my friends, and use them creatively. I once used the prying end of hammer to turn the tiniest screw. I once used the handle of a screw driver to (kind of) bang in a nail. If your tool set is limited, consider fresh uses. Maybe kinder ones?

1am.

At this point, following that failure, I became acutely aware of the fact that I have five children. Wait. I have five children. Five children. I was overwhelmed by the variety of ways that I might screw them up. The possibilities are endless!

I know this is 1am talking. I know I am overjoyed to have five children. I know in the morning, these voices will have evaporated with the slanted lines of light drifting through the blinds.

2am.

I fell asleep at some point during this non-hour and, bless the Lord, dreamed of nothing.

3am.

16-month-old Leo woke up during the cloudy hours, those hours from three to five when sleep and waking blend into one. I followed the sounds of his crying, went and stood beside his crib. He was standing against the rail, cheeks wet with tears, so I bent down and put my arm around his little body. He stuck his head up into the crook of my neck, and we passed the time like that in the silence of a whirring fan, clinging to each other, letting each other know it would be okay. The night would end. Sleep would come. We promised each other those things were true. I kept kissing the sweet smell of his hair.

In my mind, I apologized to him in advance for all the various and inevitable ways I will screw him up and let him down, and his little arm came up around my neck at that very moment as if to say,

It’s okay, Dad. We all screw up. I forgive you in advance. Everyone is doing the best with what they got.

And then, just like that, he laid back down in his crib. I covered him with a warm blanket and went back to bed.

Oh, friends.

I hope this post is like Leo’s little arm around your neck. I hope you will accept it for what it is: an invitation to generously dole out and receive forgiveness for misdeeds past, present, and future. Or maybe it’s a little warmth on a cold night, a little assurance that you are doing enough. That you are enough.

Your Friend in This Mess Called Parenting
Shawn