Satan's Greatest Trick

"The greatest trick Satan ever pulled was making the world believe he didn't exist."

Do you know who said this ubiquitous little line? I didn't. I had to look it up. Charles Baudelaire wrote this in Paris Spleen, a book of prose poetry (before it was known as prose poetry), published in 1869.

In the evangelical community, I think the opposite is true. If Satan exists, his greatest trick is to heighten his importance in the church.

I've stumbled across a blog piece called "When Satan Steals Your Motherhood" published January 28, 2014. It's very sweet in some ways. The writer recalls moments of the day where her patience gave out, especially when it comes to her young son. At the end, her son doesn't recall those moments but only the one time where they played on the couch together. It's a lovely moment, recalling the innocence of childhood and shunning the evil of Satan within motherhood--a perfectly packaged ending with a call for action, to, uh, remember to be nice to your kids?

The writer believes that it's not the fact that you're on Pinterest too long, or that you're on the phone too long, or that you compare your kids to others, when Satan gets in. She writes, "No, it’s not the mistakes. It’s not the forgetfulness. It is what happens on the inside that no one else sees. And he knows just how to get to you."

Jesus Christ! Satan knows just how to get us? What does that mean? He knows how to make us feel guilty for being a typical mother? He knows how to creep into our families when they are in their normal state of chaos?

I hate this type of spiritualizing. It makes us paranoid, guilty, angry, scared, and worst of all, like sinners. Being a protestant myself, I know all about these feelings, especially while I attended a fundamentalist church where intentions count. Motives count. If you have "wrong motives," you are sinning. You need to repent. You need grace. 

Yes, we need grace, in every situation, sure. But I wonder what kind of existential grace this writer is asking for-- is it for being a middle to upper middle class woman who has the privilege of not working and raising children? Is it for all the times these women lose their temper or sit on the computer using the social network too long? I swear, my mother lost her temper at me daily for not practicing the piano long enough, for not studying more, for not caring about my B when I could get an A. And I know her prayers were nothing like the mother who wrote this piece. My mother was praying that she would be able to get through her graveyard shift just one more time, that her children would grow up faster so they could start speaking English, that her daughter would take her sacrifices as an immigrant and use them as building blocks for a different kind of life. Guess what? All her prayers were answered. 

I'm now a privileged person. I can take six months off for maternity leave and have my husband support me. Some days, my shitty attitude can be my worst problem. I'm in no way perfect--in fact, I'm judgmental, hot-tempered, competitive, a misanthrope, and a terrible speller. I can ask God to help me fight Satan in some weird spiritual way and remain the kind of individualistic Christian that our churches love to produce--those that concentrate only on their own holiness, those that defend CCM music, those that put on Mother's Day programs at church, those that value how they feel about God and read the Bible to suit their own needs. But I won't, because if Satan exists, this is his greatest trick--especially in the church. 

No, I will remember my mother's prayers. I will remember that there are millions and millions of people who have nothing to eat, nowhere to learn, and everything to pray for. I will continue trying to act justly, love mercy, walk humbly. When I fail, I will not tell myself and other women that Satan is out to steal our joy by using isolated quotes from the Bible. I will probably feel depressed for a while and maybe yell at my family. Then I will apologize and just keep trying. 

"A True Believer"

It's hard to post on this one because I feel sensitive about my old time religion. If it was good enough for grandmother, it should be good enough for me... but it just ain't.

Well, my brother sent me an article and asked what I thought. Here is my response.
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i read it quickly, but gary and i have read up on this "phenomenon" a while back, when a traditional christian writer wrote about "hipster christianity." the funny thing is, traditional evangelicals are threatened by what this writer calls "progressive evangelicals" in the same way that political conservatives are threatened by anything progressive. they think if you don't believe in one part of orthodox doctrine, the entire religion will slide down a slippery slope. even this writer writes from the perspective of a traditional evangelical. i know why... because he doesn't write from MY point of view, and i'm definitely completely over the line. i'm not a moderate or traditional evangelical. i am definitely a progressive, maybe even more left than what is described. in fact, it's amazing to me that just as i was going through my rebuffing of the old evangelical view, many young people around the US were doing the very same, via their own experiences with the traditional church. i think anyone who is associated with conservative views in the US are scary right now (in the 21st century) because they are the ones with actual power and money. church or government. maybe they have the most to lose when progressives actually start to organize and find a voice.

i've been listening to rob bell's podcast for 2 years now, and greg boyd for 4-5. i have just recently stopped listening to rob bell because i don't care for his preaching style that much, but i agree with everything he believes. greg boyd is much more stimulating to listen to, and what they preach is this:

faith is not always about feeling. it's not about how you feel, it's about how you live.

this is a scary thought. because if we REALLY consider how we live, how we treat every single person we come into contact with, how much of our money and belongings we give, how much we stand up for what we truly believe (and that's not about our beliefs about doctrines, but about how we might treat let's say, a pariah, in front of other people...), how much faith do we actually have? if we really believe that every person we encounter could be Jesus asking for a cup of water, or if we really believe that to do the will of God, we must act justly, love mercy and humbly walk with God... or if we really know what the church should be and what God intended it to be, yet we just go along with the mediocre, dogmatic, traditional religion that only works to help its own members to feel good about themselves... or maybe stop going to church and stop serving in any way... i mean, this stuff gets very very very scary. doesn't it?

what happens when we go to heaven and say, "i lived my own life, and i tried to deal with church people i don't like..." what would jesus actually say?

sometimes, i think the traditional view of christianity can pigeonhole theology into a few corners: 1, think the bible is only about yourself (the bible is written for me, to improve me, to help me, even if it's about the hittites and jebusites), and 2, i have the ability and power and insight to figure out what God meant through the canon of the bible (if jesus says he is the way, the truth, and the life, and no one goes to the father except through him, then certain people must be going to hell). both ways of thinking are dangerous and pompous.

whatever we do in this life should not feel like enough, and that's what goodness is. like when schindler started to do what was right, and when he realized he could have done more, saved more Jews, he wept. that is what the church should call repentance. righteousness.