Christian Privilege?

No, this title is not a joke. Nor is it clickbait. After reading a post from Relevant Magazine on the subject, I learned that “Christian privilege” is a real term thrown around on social media. You can read the article here, and I encourage you to do so, if only for context of what I’m about to say.

As a white, conservative, Christian woman, this term and even the article trouble me. Before writing this blog post, I reached out to some other Christians to get their less cynical perspectives on the term. Some agreed with the post's author and some didn't. A few things stick out from those conversations:

1. Christians often face doubts, criticism, and verbal attacks on their intelligence and character because of the abstractness of faith.

Trump-supporting, Conservative Christians that don't believe in science and would rather have guns than safety ... it's a stereotype that runs rampant, and it seems like every day is a battle to defy the opinions of others. Since graduating from college, I’ve had to prove myself as a person who cares for other people, as an intellectual, and as a believer in equality because of the faith I have in Jesus and the way the world understands Christianity. In no way has my faith given me any privilege, especially in the workplace. In fact, in my very first job out of college, I faced prejudice on my first day in the office for the small cross hanging from a push pin on my wall. Before anyone knew me personally, they had pre-concieved notions of who I am and what I believe -- a practice I think we as a society are trying to abolish though practice.  In my conversations about Christian privilege, none of the people I spoke with felt like their faith brought them any advantage or understanding. 

2. Speaking on behalf of Christians who make mistakes is the greatest argument against "Christian privilege."

The author claims that a sign of privilege is “the ability to avoid having to speak on behalf of your faith or all Christians when one of your own goes bad.” To this point, I often find myself defending other Christians in the face of scrutiny, by association, especially in regard to the church and people wronged by the church. Almost weekly now, I find myself seeking out sound doctrine so that I can better articulate myself for those questioning the actions of Christians in the media, on Twitter, or even daily interactions. Unfortunately, many people have been burned by the church, especially people who don't fit the traditional Christian mold that doesn't exist anymore. 

Just like Muslims should not be defined by the radicals represented in the media, neither should Christians be defined by rich pastors with private jets who refuse to open the doors of the church during natural disaster.  If you saw a small, blonde-haired child steal a piece of candy from a store, you wouldn't assume all tiny people with blonde hair are thieves -- humans make mistakes, even (and especially) religious ones, and that doesn't represent people as a whole. 

3. We have to stop bringing people down in order to lift others up.

 

The problem with this article is that it’s generalized and inaccurate — a huge step backwards in evangelizing. We don’t give women in the workplace more rights by revoking men’s; we push ourselves to gender equality by promoting more women based on their qualifications (because goodness, there are so many amazing women that deserve it). It’s not necessary to label all Christians (or even just white, male ones) as privileged in order to acknowledge the struggle of other religions. Let’s instead make the conversation about those other religions. The quantity of believers doesn’t substantiate the labeling of privilege, and even if it did, are those numbers based on people identifying as Christian by tradition, or those actively seeking Jesus? Should it matter?

And yet, maybe it does exist?

An important thing to note here, and something I took away from the article, is the problem of religious equality. America's historically Christian holidays do not extend to other faiths, bringing into question Ramadan and Hanukkah, for example. I agree that as a nation, we need to do better at acknowledging the important of religious freedom, and in turn, religious expression, of all types. Is being a Christian a privilege? In that way, absolutely. 

But should it?

Religion as a whole has powerful, deeply rooted convictions that shouldn’t be connected to any type of derogatory label. On the other hand, it also shouldn’t be used as a convenient excuse to judge and condescend other people for their actions, views, or experiences, which is perhaps what the author intended. In order to promote equality, we must first view each other as equals — religion, gender, sexual orientation, race, and background; excluding Christians from this conversation defeats that purpose entirely.

What do you think? Let me know in the comments!

Broken bones

The lights went down in the auditorium like they do every Sunday. I took a few seconds longer than normal to get up from my seat, careful not to bump the oversized cast on my leg into anyone in the process, taking a few one-legged hops forward to stay out of the way. If you’ve spent any amount of time in a “charismatic” church, you know it’s helpful to have at least half an arm’s length of space between you and the people around you – the worship width – and I did my best to give my neighbors some room for movement. After just a few seconds of music, my sore “good leg” was already tired (three hop-along weddings will do that to you when you’re crippled), so I steadied myself on my scooter, which was bulky and very much in the way.

Being physically broken at the feet of Jesus is a vulnerable thing, and it gave me a lot of perspective about emotional brokenness and the value (yes, value) of pain. I’ve been reading The Problem with Pain by C.S. Lewis because, to be honest, I don’t understand why certain things happen. I understand that God is in control, but I struggle with the co-existence of evil and the goodness of God. A blog on that is to be continued. But the parallel between the physical pain I felt while also crying out to God in thankfulness, awe, and humbleness, was a powerful illustration of my own lack of gratitude when things are “good,” while also reminding me that this current suffering means so little considering the breadth of eternity.

Pastor Jeremy said something particularly powerful during that service, furthering my guilt but expounding on my epiphany:

Your pain might be someone else’s blessing, which not only gives your struggle purpose – it gives YOU purpose.

In that moment, I realized that it’s my choice to look at each day and declare it as good because God is good. And in that declaration, I can choose to live out the gospel to the people around me. Scooting around on a med scooter with a bright pink cast has drawn more attention to me that ever in my life – and that’s saying a lot, coming from a 6’2” woman. Every glance, every interaction, every stranger that comes up to me and asks what happens – those are all Jesus moments. Instead of telling people I don’t understand how I made it through two airports and drove myself to the ER, I can credit that as righteousness. Because it was. Because it is. 

Throughout this process, my mom has continually said, “I’m so thankful that the Lord heals our bones.” I brushed this off, like a lot of the encouragement I’ve received in the past month (working on this), but standing there in the darkness with other broken people, though broken in different ways, my mom’s words continue to mean so much more.

Being so immobile as a photographer, a fiercely independent person, and ultimately someone who lives alone... is hard. Finding new ways to get laundry to and from the W/D without killing myself is a challenge. Getting into a tiny shower using crutches is slippery and probably a terrible idea. Getting groceries is now my weekly workout. Not having anyone to reassure me that my toes are getting enough circulation when I wake up in pain at 3am -- it's all hard. But I'm learning that pain is temporary and asking for help isn't admitting weakness (more on that later). My clients have been so kind and accommodating because yes, I've already shot three weddings and a bridal session on one leg. And I'm finding new ways to cope with anxiety since I can't kick box five times a week anymore (RIP muscles).

One of my favorite songs is called “Dry Bones” by Gungor, which compares humans to empty vessels of bones, soulless and lifeless without the breath of God. I’m thankful that God heals my bones. But I’m also thankful that I don’t need to be unbroken in order to have purpose, that even when I’m waiting for healing, I’m whole.

When the Whole30 Becomes Spiritual...

I never thought I could do the Whole30. In fact, I’m shuddering just thinking about it. Nevertheless, completing one of the most difficult elimination diets taught me so many non-transient things about myself, health, and my relationship with Jesus.

The Whole30 Diet is most closely related to Paleo — The Caveman Diet. Participants agree to a lot of things when they take this challenge on, including abstaining from grains, dairy, sugar, processed foods, alcohol, and legumes (beans, peanuts, random things like hummus). The diet also relies a lot on mental stability and encourages you to eat until you’re full (mostly with vegetables) for breakfast, lunch, and dinner while not overindulging on fruits.

I heard amazing success stories of huge weight loss, high energy, better sleep, great skin, and a renewed zest for life, and I knew I wanted to try it. My only concern going in was the sustainability — would I be able to NOT put dairy in my coffee for over four weeks? Inconceivable!

I started Day 1 with a pocketful of sunshine and compliant recipes. I even ordered some Whole30 approved dressings and condiments because I felt like that’s what I was supposed to do. But that first week was one of the worst of my life. The recipes were complicated, using cauliflower rice and coconut aminos, two stapes for regular Whole30-goers, but new for me. By the end of the week, I felt tired, defeated, and in need of a donut. Going out with friends or family just discouraged me as I read menus in search of dressings without soy or sugar and had to ask how chicken or burgers (no bun) were prepared. Even table salt has sugar in it, which just shows how little I could eat at a restaurant. Chipotle does have one compliant meat (not cooked using soybean oil), praise the GOOD LORD, but I really had to cook for myself at home for every meal because I could control the ingredients.

I soon realized that executing complicated and “fun” recipes didn’t make my Whole30 experience better or more accurate than someone else’s. I started looking for compliant foods I would enjoy eating. I made homemade, non-dairy mayonnaise. I added more meat into my diet and incorporated a fat on my plate like olives or avocados — two of my favorite foods. I started finding excitement in whole foods that I previously would have passed over for something much less nourishing for my body.

A worship song frequently found its way into my head during this process because the word “clean” came up so often — “Give us clean hands, give us pure hearts. Let us not lift our souls to another.”

Eating Whole30 “clean,” is not for everyone, but the feeling can’t be described. My body just felt like it was working how it was supposed to — I didn’t ever have that over-full or bloating feeling you get after eating Mexican food. I never felt my stomach rumble with digestive problems or even really growl with hunger because everything inside was just working correctly. That’s how I feel about the song I mentioned before. Having hands free of unconfessed sin and guilt and a pure heart allow me to serve the Lord without the rumbling of distractions or pains caused by my own disobedience.

And realizing my hands aren’t clean is only possible when they ARE clean, and I can see the difference.

What eating clean looks like now — lattes with nut milk, plantain chips instead of fries, and a nutrient-packed veggie sandwich. DELICOUS and body-fueling.

Not eating legumes was the hardest part mentally for me, because I didn’t understand WHY — beans aren’t necessarily bad for me, so why cant I have them? I found that my body worked better without them. Spiritually, what could you eliminate that isn’t bad for you, but also isn’t doing any good? Maybe it’s a TV show, book, or person. For me, it was 30 minutes of Netflix in bed instead of quiet time with the Lord.

Completing the Whole30 required so much discipline, from meal prepping ahead of time to letting my friends know I was on the diet so that we could come up with plans that didn’t involve food. Spiritually, I discovered the same thing. My relationship with Jesus has to be a choice — a choice each day to not put sugar in my coffee. It has to be evident to my friends so that our plans are glorifying to Him and within the lifestyle I want to live, according to the disciplines and faith I believe in. Similarly, the journey is significantly easier and more rewarding with people pushing you, encouraging you, and cheering you on.

It took me 30 days to learn I can do ANYTHING. How many days will it take you?

PS- I lost 11 pounds and would highly recommend this diet to anyone looking for a challenge that will change your perspective on food and health.