I couldn’t swim until I was 11 years old, and even then, it was a pretty panicky endeavor.
Today I taught both of my kids (ages 7.5 and 10) how to swim in about 3 hours.
Both were super afraid of being in the deep section when we started. Because they trusted me; it worked. I gave them pushes to the side, and skill tips, and once the fear was nearly gone, they could do it.
Much has to do with trusting that one is fairly buoyant in the water. Thrashing is not helpful, tense muscles tend to sink. For my son, who was quite scared, I told swim, “swim gently.” Something clicked. He saw/experienced that when taking his time, he could maneuver and stay afloat. The terror of sinking like a rock eased away. He probably jumped in the deep end to swim about 150 times after that.
For my daughter, distracting her with techniques, like a flutter kick and slicing arms through the water, distracted her from her over-thinking. The paralyzing fright of trying something new and “dangerous” settled out, and made way for real progress. I would hold her under her belly, to qualm her fears, and then I’d take her into deeper water so she wouldn’t stunt her learning by cutting it short: standing up each time she wasn’t sure of things, or when she felt scared–which, at the start, was about every 4 seconds. Once she saw how far she could go, by obeying my instructions, she realized she was ALREADY swimming. Then the fear (well, more the 50% of it) subsided. She got far more comfortable in the water.
It’s like that in life too, isn’t it. Much of what we think is beyond us, or too scary is part of how we’ve let our fears and false notions get in the way. We all must learn to float and not fight as God teaches us how to manage deeper water. Otherwise we are trapped in the kiddie pool.
How old were you when you learned to swim? Or do you have Aquaphobia a.k.a fear of water?
In what ways, to you, is the art and skill of swimming related to growth, or your own personal journey?
Any other thoughts?
P.S.
I’m looking for a pop up camper… keep your eyes peeled.
Spirituality/theology AND humor ≠ peanut butter and jelly?
Peas and carrots?
or More like jelly and mayo?
Or hair and cheesesteak?
Are people who study God (theologians) humorous as much as they are serious?
In my case, yes.
But does that gel? I’m talking like jell-o giggler, gel? Really nicely, with fun and good flavor, and joint protection.
Okay, I’m not paid to teach theology, not yet anyway, so I’m not a pro. Several hundred hours of study should count for something though.
But, I’ve noticed something: If someone tends to take their studies seriously, and their profession seriously, sometimes they lose their sense of humor. It’s not that they can’t be witty on occasion. But I’ve noticed the “humor” can be more sarcastic than uproarious. Theology can be rather dry… but not as in dry humor.
It’s beginning to bother me some, because of the sense that one “has to” pick one way or the other.
• Either you get your respect and admiration seriously honing your forte and thoughts of God, or you pick some sort of madcap way and get sort of dismissed as a lightweight.
Well, rubbish to that.
It shouldn’t be so.
It is a genius blend to be genuinely comical and also thoroughly studied on the important matters of living in this world with a firm consideration of the Divine as the center of it.
It might look like I’m putting it in my mouth, but I have to put my foot in both camps.
So, I’m putting my readers on notice. (Don’t think: Wittenberg Door “notice”. Think: dry erase board.) As anyone knows, straddling can lead to a good hard thwack in the center. I realize this is RISKY. Those of you that know me personally realize this co-mingled vantage point is from where I operate. Some of you may just…not “get it”.
Stay with me here.
I’m not sure where we got the idea that spirituality must be flaky or humorless. Sobriety is one thing, but cheerless? Parish the thought.
If you are new here, welcome. I invite you to what is an engaging game of Twister®, if you will. Here I will not kowtow to stern conventions of how we must study and know God, and our selves, as spiritual creatures. And no, I’m not a witch. Don’t be so stocked, or “freaked” in any way. (Plus, I weigh more than a duck…)
Isn’t God young? It is us who have gotten old and crotchety. Severe or joyless. Being truly alive doesn’t look much like that.
What do you think…?
Have you lost your sense of humor?
Do you find it doesn’t mesh with diligently following God or knowing him well?
Are worship/awe and fun mutually exclusive within spirituality?
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Letting off steam regularly is fine-- if you're a train
Anger: Venting vs. ?
Indulge with me in a short scenario to see if you can relate:
Suppose one beautiful spring evening you sit in your living room enjoying a good book, or something on tv. Outside you hear the sound of adolescent laughing. Mildly amused, you peek through your curtains and see some familiar neighborhood youth tossing several ping-pong balls to each other as they go up your street. You smile and settle back in your chair reminded of the simple but fun antics of your younger days. The following morning you go outside to find your car crusted in egg yolks and smashed shells.
You fume with anger. “How dare they! Rotten kids,” you think. “Those weren’t ping-pong balls! If I had known they were going to egg my car I would have stopped them.” Your blood boils. You fantasize of chucking an egg at those ankle bitters who made your car a target of vandalism. You feel the need for a good vent for your fury. Right?
However, as you approach your car you notice a mother bird in a tree branch high above your vehicle fussing about her nest nervously. Suddenly an egg falls from the nest and lands amongst the other destroyed eggs. You realize the young people had nothing to do with your car’s condition. Does your attitude change? You feel a certain sense of relief, right? If so, what happened to the anger? Where did it go?
I contend that the notion of purging or venting our anger for good mental health is actually a myth, and a destructive one. It seems it rarely is necessary for feeling better at all. We don’t go around like human forms of unopened soda pop that have bounced down the stairs. One crack in the container, and–POW!
The only thing that cools, or adjusts the anger, in the scenario I mentioned, and many others like it, is the change of the mind. It’s a choice, rather than a reaction. It’s a way to see a happening without being emotionally hijacked. In reality, all that is required to alleviate anger is a change in mentality, or a new perception. As one modifies anger, the feeling is consequently neutralized.
I think the idea of the venting our anger as a tactic for good mental health may have been birthed when those burying anger found it coming forth in baffling and unconstructive ways. (The technical term is repression.) The discovery of psychoanalysis was pioneered by delving into the sub-conscious mind; including the newly named matters of “repressed feelings”. If matters are dealt with– pop psychology tells us– in a proper visible “exorcizing,” we won’t have unexplained, reoccurring anger problems, frustrations, and related psychological disorders. This kind of “repressed anger management strategy” of our era is so intertwined with our culture and norms, we scarcely see it as a recent invention.
Notwithstanding, repressed anger is real and dangerous, like submerged toxic waste. I will dare allege anger buried becomes guilt; and this anger pointed inward (guilt) ferments, and turns into depression. It is also quite avoidable–without ever discharging the anger like steam from a blazing locomotive. These negative emotional features and many others surface because anger isn’t transformed or neutralized. Buried, anger of the past however; in contrast to present-day, situational anger, is not the same matter.
Surely we should attend to anger and not stow it. A constructive, respectable dialogue regarding upsetting issues is quite wise. Unfortunately, what often happens in using venting as anger resolution is we may feel entitled to vent, or ill at ease if this venting doesn’t transpire. This is simply not accurate. In reality, expelling our anger is so often counter-productive or damaging. It can be like throwing a grenade on a comfy campfire. Additionally, we are bound to be angrier people if we rehearse being angry and letting the vehemence rocket rather than changing our perspective.
Next time something deplorable happens we can think to ourselves, “How can I consider this differently ? Do I have all the fact to warrant blowing up, probably not.” This will transform the mind and transport us from anger. We don’t have to rely on the ventilation of anger. Understanding this is truly a victory. We need not be captive, or slaves, to anger. We need not give vent to it, like detoxifying a poison from our system, if we truly resolve it, and more importantly transform it.
If something offensive occurs soon think of it as a chance to practice this principle. I believe it will also develop our strength of character to think this way more often.
Please leave your thoughts about venting, anger, or anything related to this topic.
I hesitate to title the post this way… for a few reasons.
Some of it is just my baggage, plain and simple. Some of it is that if I don’t call it a “sermon”… and I fail, I won’t feel so discouraged. (Yes, I’m being honest, and not just wise cracking today…well, not too much.) Yes, I need prayer, and I’ll thank you for petitioning God for me. I mostly just want to get out of the way, read the Bible, mention a few things, and let God do the piercing/talking to the heart. I don’t have to hold his hand in all this, but I sure do need him to hold mine.
This Sunday, I’ll be speaking for the Sunday morning during the Camp Swatara chapel service. I’ve spoken at retreats, prayer breakfasts, Sunday school classes, small groups, of single or mixed gender, but I haven’t be asked to be a Sunday morning guest preacher until now. And before that starts to mess with my mind, I’m going to deconstruct it, and get reasonable. What will happen is that I’ll be spending a few minutes with my siblings in Jesus. I’ll be sharing some things I’ve learned, and continue to learn, and try, as I thirst and hunger for my Savior. It’s not a gig at all. It’s a whole lot more like a chance to realize acutely how silly I am, and how much I need God’s help.
I’ll be sharing about the richness and power of The Lord’s Prayer (Matthew 6:9-13); and how it tells us so much about God, and so much about how we are invited to be a part of his Bigger Plan, now, and in Kingdom Come.
I made a handout for the children to color, and the adults to use to join with me in prayer at the end.
Together, we’ll get on the same page, and tell God who He is, so we learn it better. We’ll all get on the same page to apprehend how we are a part of his reality and plan, and untwist our independent thinking where we think that it’s somehow the other way around. And hopefully, we’ll see the centerpiece is forgiveness and grace, and the rest of it makes zero sense if that part isn’t the main thrust.
coloring page for my Sermon time (No birds were burnt in the making of this drawing.)
To put it bluntly, the problem lies in the fact that what we hate and fear is personified in a disable person. What we grieve and pity on a grander scale about human existence can be seen in the disabled. What we dread about ourselves, or how the broken world can be, takes on fleshly form, right in front of us, in the acute helplessness of the disabled one.
On a gut level, we realize at some point we too may be helpless and dependent. It seems frightening. We feel weak, inferior, and can be dreadfully aware of our imperfections. We resent being reminded of it. We also fear that grace will not abound for us in these cases. Consequently, we hope the subject does not come up, or that the disabled stay a bit out of view. Disabilities are variations of the vulnerable life that God has given us. They are too, the life he lived out, in human form. It seems a most basic dilemma of human existence is whether there is welcome when it is most needed. Can we can find a safe place to abide, and be with others who recognize us, value us, and empower us to become our best selves. We remain insecure.
Interdependence
Reynolds asserts that the Christian story is, and has been, one of strength coming from weakness, of wholeness emerging from brokenness, and of growth budding from vulnerability. This comes by the grace and almighty power of God. As able-bodied people, we underestimate our need. We admire, idolize, and pursue independence, on all levels.
In contrast, the common good is not achieved unilaterally (individually), or selfishly. The disabled understand experientially what the able-bodied can only know partially, and, by in large, theoretically: we need relationships in order to exist. As we embrace our vulnerability and mature to depend on other, we become more fully human. Weakness, in the interdependence played out as servant host and guest, gives us the privilege of reliance, vulnerability, and the opportunity to pursue abundant life together. It is part of how we develop in trust and faith.
Reynolds delves into theological issues, related to Trinitarian theology. They are discussed in terms of God and his creation, Jesus’ redemption and interaction with humanity, and the Spirit in the context of the Spirit-filled church living as a vulnerable inclusive communion in the redemptive kingdom of God.
Your comments and ideas are encouraged. Please post them.
