Benchpress This

In a roundabout way (the way things usually go when I start reading internet articles), I found myself at this site:

A Nation of Wimps

The premise of the blog and the book it's promoting is that parents nowadays are going to such great lengths to childproof life--hoping to save their offspring from any semblance of pain or heartache--that what actually happens is the generation they raise is in fact weaker because they don't know how to deal with failure. They suggest that being tethered to our parents via cell phones may be a large factor in the rise of adultescence (a term my dictionary doesn't recognize yet, but one that has gained popularity as a way to describe how 20-somethings nowadays still behave like teenagers). Since our parents do everything for us from filling out our college applications to coaching us through our job interviews and following up to negotiate salary on our behalf (yeah, apparently this happens quite often), we no longer have to be adults ourselves. To be sure, they probably do all of this out of love, but what they don't realize is that it's facilitating our neurosis. When we ship out for college, sans parentals, we no longer have someone glazing over the rough patches. A bad night of partying or a C on a term paper and we go spiraling into depression, anxiety, and panic disorders. We just can't deal.

I'll be the first to admit that when I am unsure about making a certain move at work or when I'm facing some boy-conundrum, I hit up my speed-dial: Mom and Dad. My parents are two of the wisest people I know. I respect their opinions greatly and quite often consult them when it comes to major decisions. Most assuredly, they've let me feel my share of hard knocks, whether on purpose or because they couldn't actually feasibly help me out, and I'm thankful for it. So despite the fact that I have dealt with my share of anxiety and such, I'm not ready to blame the parents. Actually, my brain went somewhere else--the church.

Yesterday I got into a conversation with a friend of mine who was sharing his frustration with church systems--bi-laws that we use to safeguard ourselves against sin. Although I'm not sure I understood his argument completely, we hit on a specific example of how this manifests: why, he posed, do we need two people to count the money from the offering? The rule is born out of a need for accountability--to be sure that no one is stealing--but he argued that it actually undermines our trust in God. Why, as a church, do we feel the need to set up elaborate rules, checks and balances, that will keep us from sinning? Why not just trust (and pray) that God will transform our hearts, instilling within us the desire to not steal, etc?

Like communism, I like the idea. I don't think the response to it should be to recklessly throw out all church rules as a means of testing our faith (like the demons tempting Jesus to jump off a building and let the angels catch him, just to show that He could), but I have started to wonder whether, in different areas of my life, I am relying on God or a system to keep myself out of trouble.

Is it possible that we are childproofing God in a way that makes our relationship with Him "safe" but lame and boring? Our interaction with God was never meant to be about rules but a relationship, yet we insist on creating "3(78) Easy Steps" to living the Christian life. In dating relationships, we create a list of rules for purity (no kissing until we're engaged) to make sure we don't struggle with lust. We throw out any music or movies that might put violent ideas in our heads or curse words in our mouths in hopes that if we block out any worldly influence, we will have no choice but to meditate on God all day.

Meanwhile, we are a generation of Christians who have died inside. We have become so preoccupied with trying not to sin, that we've forgotten the whole point: to know God and enjoy Him. Holiness should be a result of loving God so much that we want to do anything and everything to make Him happy. Instead, we focus on trying to make ourselves good--imposing a grand scheme of regulations so that we can foolproof life. All the while, if we had even the slightest glimpse of who God really is (if we knew Him), we would naturally want to do what pleases Him. It would be our joy.

With our children, letting them touch a hot stove, eat poisonous plants, or run into a busy street without looking both ways may not be the wisest parenting--but there are other ways that we can let them learn from their mistakes and deal with failure. In the same way, as Christians, we should search our hearts for ways that we could drop the rules a little and trust God a little more. When we become so paralyzed by the thought of doing something wrong that we stay stagnant, who has won? If we don't sin merely because we don't do anything, this isn't life.

Several weeks ago I wrote about a "borderline deranged decision" I made--I went out on a limb on something that I wasn't sure was really a "godly" thing to do. I prayed that no matter what, God would be glorified--whether the situation turned out like I hoped or not--and I trusted that even if I fell flat on my face, God would work through the circumstances to teach and grow me. And, turns out, I did fall flat on my face. And God did begin a growing process in me that though I'm still in the middle of, I can see clearly. It was a bump in the road I really didn't want, a "life lesson" that I could have safely avoided, but in doing so, I would have also missed the excitement of really trusting that God would work in my best interest. I would have missed out on the way I saw the body of Christ minister to me like a real family. I would have missed wisdom and growth and a hundred other things.

If living safely means I won't get to really experience God, then that, that is a waste of my time.

We are a nation, a church, of wimps, coddled to death, who follow ten thousand rules but know nothing of the God we claim to serve.