The coming of the summer months always feels like a milestone. I think that’s part of being a parent. The kids have made it through another year of school hopefully a little bit wiser and knowledgeable, and definitely a lot taller. This time of year has its own obligations, but overall I find it a time to breathe, rest, and reflect. Some of the sweetest and most meaningful moments come in the evenings when I am prepping food and coffee for the next morning, and my kids gather with me in the kitchen. This is when they want to engage. We might talk about Minecraft, Star Wars, and music. We might contemplate theology and the meaning of life. Whether the conversation is silly or deep, this is where thoughts, opinions, and dreams are thrown out with a hope that they will be caught and cared for well.
It isn’t lost on me that those moments are a gift—both for myself and for my children. As I reflect upon my own childhood, there was never a space where I would have been free and safe to express myself, to wonder, or to talk about life. The people in my life who were supposed to care for and nurture me brought destruction instead. Though they have all been given over to death, I still carry around their abuse and neglect in my body. Perhaps some of you can relate. This kind of legacy can continue for generations if not interrupted. Being the one to write a new narrative is not an easy job, but it is a worthy one.[1]
A lot of this came rushing forward this past weekend while watching the documentary series, Shiny Happy People. Most of you have probably already seen it. If you haven’t, it is definitely worth a watch, but be warned that it can get pretty rough. I grew up a garden variety SBC evangelical in the Bible Belt. We were not really fundamentalist, but these ideas still filtered into my world. What I was struck by, however, is that abusers are not clever. Not really. The pig might have a different color of lipstick, but it is all the same at the core. The abuser becomes a god in their little kingdom, wielding power and control in order to stay on the throne.
Bill Gothard’s kingdom was built on a culture of fear—fear of the world “out there.” His ideology allowed men to establish their own little kingdoms, making a way for them to use their authority in harmful ways. Gothard promised blessing for those who would comply to the rules he created, and he misused God’s name to give himself credibility. It makes sense that people would fall into this trap. Rules and structure can help us make sense of the world and give us a sense of safety, but they usually do not deliver on what they have promised. Somehow we can never get it right. There truly is nothing new. I am reminded of the words of Jesus against the religious leaders of his day, “’for they say things and do not do them. And they tie up heavy burdens and lay them on people’s shoulders, but they themselves are unwilling to move them with so much as their finger’” (Matthew 23:3b-4). Instead of partnership with Christ and control of self, Gothard opted for control of others. Maybe he will repent before he comes to the end of his days. Regardless, his ways are not God’s ways, and his legacy is one of rotten fruit.
When we hear stories of harm and destruction, a righteous anger stirs within us. These stories remind us that the enemy is still hard at work—an enemy that wants nothing more than for us to forgo the rest and goodness of our Savior. Jesus does not put heavy burdens upon us, but instead invites us to rest in him. He promises us abundant life, which is not found in a million little rules. Jesus invites us to participate in our own lives right alongside him, leading us on a path towards wholeness and a better kingdom. Accepting that invitation is an act resistance to the enemy of our souls. I have written before on the longing for redemption and the tension of living in a broken world. I believe that we all carry this longing in us. In fact, I believe that our longing for something more—and that we might even dare to hope—is evidence of the image of God that we all bear within ourselves.
I see this so clearly when my kids take joy in the small and silly things, when they talk about what they hope for in the future, and when they express anger and sadness over injustice. I hope that in these kitchen moments, I am sowing seeds of goodness into their lives. I also hope that I never seek to establish a kingdom for myself, but instead seek after Christ and his kingdom. We cannot control the world around us. Jesus tells us, “’He causes His sun to rise on the evil and the good, and sends rain on the righteous and unrighteous’” (Matt. 5:45). There is no formula that will make life worry and stress free. There is no structure that will take away suffering. But there is also nothing we can do that can make us more (or less) loved by our Creator. He already loves us fully. As the late Tim Keller said, “If the resurrection is true, everything is going to be alright.” I believe everything is going to be alright.
[1] If this is part of your story, please find trusted and safe people to walk with you as you pursue healing and wholeness.