My Scratched Glasses

Lately, I’ve been dealing with a problem regarding perspective. And it started with my glasses.

I’ve been actively wearing glasses since about the age of seventeen. And after spending years having to make the switch between sunglasses and my regular prescription, I took the plunge, got Transition lenses, and anti-glare coating, and the anti-scratch coating as well. It was ridiculous. I went to one of those 1-hour eyeglass stores. It took them 3 days. And $500.

About two months ago, the anti-glare coating started to scratch. And by scratch, I mean deep swirls and grooves making it difficult for me to focus on anything. I ended up with near-daily headaches, as my eyes constantly tried to adjust to my monitor, or traffic, or whatever it was just beyond the scratches.

I finally made an appointment to see an eye doctor - it’s been a few years since the last exam and all - and while I was waiting to see the doc, one of his assistants says to me, “You know, there’s a place just down the [insert major highway here] that can remove the anti-glare coating from your glasses. That’ll resolve about 99% of your problem.”

I made the quick decision to NOT spend a ton of money (that we really didn’t have) on a new set of lenses and frames. I went to a second eyeglass store and got the royal hookup. Not only was most of the anti-glare coating completely eliminated, but the optician did the service (over two hours of work!) for free. I was blown away.

Christians in my life seem to have similar problems with perspective, and EVERYONE ends up with a headache in that scenario. Lately, this has manifested itself on the specific subject of suffering. 

Since making our move to Central Florida - away from “friends”, family, a successful business - literally everything we knew and loved - things have been difficult. And by difficult, I mean that painful question-your-sanity-on-a-daily-basis kind of difficulty. We took a fifty percent salary reduction because we were looking for a new adventure for our family - life, and the experiences that make it rich, are born and bred in risk. And we knew that we were taking a couple. One thing that we didn’t gamble on was the assuring words of an employer that STILL haven’t come to pass. My ability to make money is significantly limited by the mindset (which is neither good or bad) of the community I’m surrounded by.

We moved into a house that from the exterior, looked beautiful - no less than a dream - which promptly turned into one of the biggest nightmares that we’ve had to endure. It was infested with mold, managed by a woman who by all evaluation was clinically insane, and slowly sucked the life and happiness out of our entire family. Even the dogs. 

So, five months after our adventure began, we were moving again.

In the middle of all of this chaos, I found my biological Dad - I haven’t seen him in over 30 years. And at the same time I also found out that I have 4 half-siblings. In an unfortunate twist of fate, they all live about 30 minutes from where we lived before the Central Florida adventure began. 

Since this change in our familial direction, I’ve been betrayed by close friends (”godly” ministers), had my character driven through the mud, been financially and emotionally broken, and struggled with some serious anxiety. I even gave myself an ulcer. 

Now, you need to know that I’m not telling you all of these maladies in a bid for your sympathy. I’m just setting the stage, so I’ll beg the court for patience. 

I’ve had the Christian people in my life come to me, either casually or pointedly, to ask me one simple question: why don’t you give up and come home? “Aren’t you seeing the signs - God never wanted you to make this move, take this job, leave your friends, etc. Can’t you see that you’re suffering, and that your family is suffering along with you? You could alleviate all of this by simply coming back to your easy existence, back home!” If I only had a nickel…

Suffering.

That’s an interesting word. 

In the theology that I learned (remember - I’m just credits shy of that degree), suffering is the preferred path. Hardship isn’t an unexpected outcome - it’s the goal, and what’s even more disturbing, it’s supposed to be embraced. There are accounts throughout holy literature that attest to this very maxim - suffering is a stamp of approval, a symbol that a divine task is at hand. Regrettably, American Christians have been fattening themselves at the table of Burger King spirituality: have it YOUR WAY NOW. At the earliest sign that something might go awry - give up, run away, change course, lay down your arms, whatever. For God’s sake - don’t ever fight or resist or revolt against the lowest common denominator of the human persona (that sickly sweet pride that’s always maneuvering you out of the way of confrontation). Heaven forbid that you might just have to spend time working some shit out. It appeases something foul in my nature when I surrender to circumstances. It’s the poorest example that I could ever give to my children. And yet, this is the common “prescription” (if you will indulge the analogy) from those influential Christians in my life. They’re all turning into *those* people: the ones that expect you to come to church pre-cleaned, dressed in your finest, prepared to encounter God’s white glove inspection of your appearance - even if your life is hellish at the moment. Because that’s reality, right? Certainly, Jesus behaved the same way…?

We’re not tough anymore. We’ve gotten so flaccid and had our wills atrophied to such an extent, that we’ve become cowering shrews. No one knows how to fight anymore, and we feel that it’s our responsibility to warn others not to do so as well. There’s a God-given right, for you! Where are the people who are pillars of strength and possess a little fucking fortitude? Where are the heroes? Have we shouted them down with our apathy?

I don’t want to live like that.

The character of my kids is at stake every time I look “suffering” in the eyes. What kind of men will they be, if they only ever saw their Dad back away from the most important fights? I shame my boys and my responsibility to parent them to be dreamers when I exit the battle when I should be sharpening swords. We spend an entire lifetime creating our perspective, without ever engaging ourselves enough to consider the implications of looking at life through that perspective (could we ever admit to being wrong?), and rarely - if ever - considering the perspective of the God who gave us life.

Our lives are lived in a valley of perspectives. Yours, mine, and the truth.

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