The Tyranny and Hope of Normalcy

My latest group therapy session was absolutely brutal. I had been asked by group members each week (over the last 6-8) to share more of myself, be less positive, etc. Meanwhile, I had been assuring them that my life was not perfect, that I would share about myself in pieces. They had been beginning me to come out of what they saw as a self-imposed shell. Over those weeks I had bared much of soul, worked hard at opening myself to others, connecting with others, asking and recieving hard questions--all of which were a tremendous amount of growth for me personally.

And then yesterday, it all came crashing down. I had an issue to pose to the group. They already knew that my biggest fear was that I would share and that they would run from me, scared of my brokenness and hide into their worlds of predictable normalcy. The conversation started out beautifully with an actively engaged audience, helpful feedback, appropriate and validating pauses of not-sure-what-to-do-ness, expressions of concern and empathy. And then all of a sudden someone blurts out that they still don't feel connected. I felt lied to, punk'd even. Some of their comments became extremely hurtful, fulfilling of my worst fears (which they were well aware of).

I deeply wanted to disengage, but then I told them how angry their comments made me. How rejected I felt after listening to what their needs were from me, going the extra mile to make those adjustments and then to be rejected after I made them. They desperately wanted to see the underside of my rock, but they really didn't want to see it at all--it was too much, too much of a burden.

I left feeling attacked, abandoned and alone. I'm still sorting through it. My insides feel a little torn out of me, but I celebrate that some finally realized that I live in a world that was different from theirs and that they cannot impose their worldviews and asumptions on me. Thankfully, I had gotten through to them. I said what I needed to say, but it came at great cost: hearing what I did not want to hear.

I found comfort today in reading Good News About Injustice: A Witness of Courage in a Hurting World by Gary Haugen, CEO of International Justice Mission and Director of the UN investigation into the Rwandan Genocide. In one particular chapter, he writes about the struggles that American suburbanites have with facing the world's brokenness that it much easier to run away from and I felt that his observations greatly meet the situation that I faced yesterday (and face to some extent on a daily basis).

"The Bible declares that the world is fallen, sinful (Subheading). Often I am ill-prepared for action in a dark world of injustice because I have gotten used to a little lie within my mind. I have gotten used to the idea that the fair garden I have worked so hard to carve out for myself and my family is normal. I have gradually adjusted to the idea that "the world" into which Christ has sent his disciples is actually a reasonably pleasant backyard patio. Certainlyit is no Garden of Eden--there are unruly shrubs, unpleasant neighbors, rainy days, tearful nights and even vandals. But in my garden the Fall is being managed. Gradually in my mind "the world" referred to in the Bible is defined more and more by the boundary hedges I share with my neighbors. Accordingly, I hone my Christian witness for the engagement in the domesticated garden. I come to see the full armor of God as battle dress for fighting weeds, backyard pests and trespassers (pg. 46)."

Our American suburbanite ideas about normalcy are a lie. They may be our reality, but in light of our world, they are rare pockets of bubbled existence. If we truly desire connection with our world, then we need to get rid of the lie. We need to get in touch with the universal normal. This does not mean that we do not fight against injustice, that we do not lament sin and brokenness, but that we learn to stand in it and if so called, to stand in the breach of the mess as prophets calling for God's justice and mercy. Hope lies here. Not in the bug zapper, not in the weed wacker, but the hope that the real Gardener is coming to redeem and create beauty once again in devastated gardens.