Ethan Renoe's Blog, page 11

The cult you’ve all fallen for

Photo by Luke Renoe

We’ve all looked at people who join cults and looked down at them from some superior plane of knowledge.

“How could they fall for that?
Don’t they know better?
Can’t they see through this guy’s lies?”

You watch the Netflix series Waco, or a documentary on Scientology and begin to see consistent themes. Why do people join cults? The answer is multifaceted but consistent:

Something is lacking in their livesThe leader promises them some sort of fulfillmentThey want to better themselvesThey feel some inherent lack in themselves and this offers wholenessThey feel cut off from other people and want community

The list goes on. None of these things are terribly surprising.

Last night, I was in the shower—the place I do some of my best thinking—when I realized that there is a gigantic cult we have all fallen for.

You and me. Everyone we know.
And very few people have woken up to it.

Because when you fall for a cult, you become brainwashed. You lose touch with reality. People try to talk you out of it, to show you the light, to wake you up, but it’s incredibly difficult to undo the brainwashing.

It’s global. It pulls on Muslims, Christians, Buddhists, and atheists alike.

We all are told that our lives could be better and we can finally be fulfilled IF…

But everyone who has joined; everyone who has gone all-in with this cult has come up lacking. Many people make it to the highest ranks of this cult and regret it. No one has ever looked back and said, “Yah, I’m glad I spent my life pursuing this.”

It’s commercialism. Capitalism.

It’s every commercial we’ve ever seen, working together to promise us a better life and fill the holes inside of us.

Are you lacking community? Buy this fitness program or these clothes and YOU could looks as happy as these models who are paid to smile and hug each other.

Feel like your life is too difficult when you’re home? Maybe you just need this new and improved Swiffer, or this new hi-tech gadget that completes your home once and for all…

There is no single great leader heading up this cult, but many. It’s more of a spirit than a man. The spirit of higher profits, salesmanship, fooling people into buying what you’re hocking. And why do they buy? Because this spirit of MORE has promised that ‘it’ will solve their problems.

‘It’ can be a new car which will make you suave like Matthew McConaughey in a Lincoln.

‘It’ is whatever new protein powder will carve up your body like Adonis so you can finally feel at home in it.

Want to know how successful this cult is at getting you to look where it wants you to? Look at diamonds, chocolate, clothes, coffee. The list goes on.

I rant on diamonds often, but for good reason. People have bitten into this cult of consumerism hook, line, and sinker so much that they can’t imagine a marriage without a diamond ring. Why can’t they? Because an advertisement told them so in 1938.

Despite the fact that over 3 million people have died in the last 20 years as a result of the diamond trade, many Westerners can’t get past the idea that a diamond is necessary for marriage!

Think about how quickly you breezed over that statistic.
3 million humans.
3 million of your nieces and nephews and students.
3 million sons and daughters.

Wake up.

If you think your little rock is more important than 3 million humans made in God’s image, what further proof do you need that you’ve fallen for this cult of advertising? If they can bend your mind into thinking this shiny crystal is worth more than a single human life, then they are a cult on par with the power of Islam’s Jihad. (For a more full post on why you should avoid diamonds, read my post here)

This cult has been lying to you and brainwashed you into believing that this thing is necessary for a wedding, and that new piece of clothing will make you finally feel good about yourself…more than the one they sold you last year.

Come out of Plato’s Capitalist Cave. Realize that fulfillment is not found in buying more and more, until you’ve finally arrived.

Above I mentioned that many people have reached the top of this cult and still felt empty. How many people have gotten filthy rich, bought everything they’ve wanted, and felt satisfied?

“I finally bought enough stuff and then my life was fulfilled,” said no one ever.

Jim Carrey famously said that he wishes everyone could get everything they want, all the money, everything…just to realize it won’t satisfy them. After all, were there people who were satisfied in life throughout history who didn’t have a smartwatch or a Tesla? Why, then, do you think you can’t be happy until you have one?

What’s your reaction when you see an advertisement? Do you allow it to place a new desire in you which wasn’t there before? Do you let it carry you along and tell you what you need?

If so, you may be brainwashed by this cult.

I imagine aliens watching us the same way we watch people in other cults. They see us looking at our phones and TVs which tell us what to buy, and laugh the same way we mock the followers of David Koresh. “How could their little screens control so much of their life!? Their pursuit of happiness and joy? Their money and time? It keeps promising it to them but never delivers! It’s like Jim Jones on steroids.”

Jesus had some words for people who had been carried away by similar ideas. In Rome there was a cult of Caesar, and you worshiped the emperor by giving him your taxes, your annual pinch of incense, and your devotion. Jesus was asked whether His followers should pay taxes to Caesar, and His response is profound.

“Give to Caesar what is Caesar’s; give to God what is God’s.”

You don’t belong to Caesar, this massive political cult. But you use his roads, his water supply, and so on. So give him a few coins, but keep your soul. Give yourself to God. Give yourself in service to others made in the image of God.

We all need clothes. We all need food. We all need certain things to continue to exist. But own them, don’t let them own you. Don’t let the advertisers own your desires, and by extension, your soul. You want to better yourself? Go for a run. Eat kale instead of Doritos. Read more and scroll less. Don’t fall for the bait.

If someone else profits off of your desires (or the desires they put in you), then you’re in trouble.

Wake up from the cult.
Act wisely.
Resist the desires commercials try to place inside you.

May we let Christ free our minds from the reins of this cult, especially in the Christmas season when we are especially susceptible to this avarice.

e

Want to stay single? Take dating MORE seriously.

No, that’s not a typo. You read it right.

Since high school, I would look enviously at couples in public. I saw them having a cute date in a coffee shop where she slowly paced her foot up and down his shin.

I’d see him sling his arm around her in church and whisper small observations into her ear throughout the sermon.

She likes you.
He likes you.
You like each other.
You’re so freaking cute.
Go home.

I listened to endless romantic songs, despite being single for 99% of my life. It was just what I wanted so badly.

You hear the trite maxim like “Once you stop looking so hard you’ll find her,” and roll your eyes and sock the speaker in the mouth. Because how are you ever going to find the love of your life without active searching, online dating, approaching every attractive stranger, and desperate sobbing into your pillow??

Something shifted inside of me around the time I was 27 or 28: I realized that I began to date less seriously.

It’s ironic.
You’d think that the older I got, the more seriously I’d take it.
Time is of the essence.
Every day is another step toward my grave.
Get married soon so you have as much time possible with your beloved.
Or else life is a waste.

Vanity of vanities: a life spent single??

When I was younger, I graduated high school and told myself, Okay Buddy, you’re out of high school now…time to date seriously.

Now that I’m 30, I’m just out here trying to have a good time. I know myself better and know what I’m looking for and I’ll know when I find it. Until then, I can enjoy the process and have fun dating—something I rarely did in my early 20’s.

But you know the best part, the shocking twist?

I think this attitude is more attractive. I’ve had much more success—far more second and third dates—by trying less hard and being less serious. People want to date someone who is able to have fun, relax, and enjoy the ride.

I scared away countless women by being so serious while dating them. “Ok, so let’s talk about where we are,” I’d say at the beginning of our second date. No wonder they didn’t want to date me! I was way too serious way too fast.

If you so desperately want a relationship, try less hard.

It was my desperation to fling myself into a grave and committed relationship that kept me from one for over a decade. I’d fall head over heels for a woman, decide she was the one for me, and then I’d tell her on our second date.

I couldn’t figure out why none of them wanted to date me. What do these other guys have that I don’t?? I would constantly ask myself.

Patience.

That’s probably it.

They were able to date, and have fun dating, for weeks before initiating the grave Define-The-Relationship talk.

I mean, it’s so strange. I’m on and off dating apps more than a nomad hops on and off trains across the nation. And I’d like to be in a relationship sometime. But when I read a woman’s bio and it says something about “Only looking for something serious and real,” it’s kind of a turn off. Where is the fun? Where is the excitement of just getting to meet someone new and seeing what happens? Her bio doesn’t make her seem like an especially fun, curious, adventurous person…just like me for most of my 20’s. No wonder no one wanted to date me!

I’ve always been an incredibly fun, excitable person, except in this one area—I always got so serious so fast. After dating me, women likely asked,

Where is the fun? Where is the excitement?

Want to stay single? Get serious real fast when you date.

Want a relationship? Slow down. Be patient. Enjoy the process. Have fun.

e

Comparison is NOT the thief of joy

Every morning I would descend the ancient stone steps to my classroom at the bottom of the hill. Some days I’d slow down as I walked, soaking in the green mountains with their permanent blanket of clouds nestled in their creases. From atop the hill, you could see all of Quetzaltenango, the colonial stone houses butted up against the slabbed-together sheet metal shacks. 

As was my routine, I’d write in a coffee shop after school for an hour every day and as I paced the cobblestone streets to the gym, I’d often think about how much I hated to be there. I couldn’t appreciate the beautiful rustic buildings or the slow-paced rhythms of the Mayan town. 

Looking back at it, I see how crazy I was. I’d give anything travel back to that time and place and routine and city. I’d love to go back to that season of my life because everything, in retrospect, looks so perfect. 

Comparison isn’t the thief of joy, it’s the slaughterhouse. 

I grew up hearing Roosevelt’s (or whoever’s) phrase, and always thought of it the same way you are now: That if you compare yourself to other people, or what you have versus what they have, you will be unhappy. 

Today, as I reflected on my time in Guatemala, Cape Cod, Los Angeles, and a myriad other places, including Colorado where I am presently, I realized that it applies much more broadly. I realized that if I compare this season of my life in Colorado to that one when I was in Guatemala, I’ll always come out unhappy. 

Just as how, when I was living in Guatemala, I was comparing it to other places I’d lived and was unhappy there too.

You could live near the most beautiful beach and complain that it doesn’t have high enough mountains, like Colorado does. You can live in Quito, a beautiful UNESCO city in Ecuador, and be disappointed that it doesn’t have the infrastructure of Kansas City. 

The list goes on.

The more you compare anything to, well, anything, you seem to be less happy. 

This applies to seasons in your life a well. Presently, I’m technically unemployed and longing to land a full-time job soon. But when I do, I’ll bemoan the fact that I have less free time like I did when I was jobless. 

See how you can get into a habit of comparing things—seasons of your life, places you live, jobs, or pretty much anything—and it’s a road straight to disappointment and complaint?

The happiest people I know seem to be the ones who aren’t doing this—they’re happy where they are. They can praise the crazy waves they rode in Australia without necessarily comparing it to where they are now, in Chicago. They were happy to live in the rush of a big city like New York, and now they’re happy to work in the slow suburbs of Littleton, Colorado.

They’re just appreciative of the differences between things, places, and people rather than comparative. 

I’m trying to be more like this, but God knows I’m struggling. I catch myself constantly looking backward, imagining that that season I was in was empirically better than this one. For this reason or that…

When we stop comparing places, for instance, we are suddenly free from expectations. We no longer need to think negatively about how Xela, Guatemala isn’t a good place because it’s not next to the ocean. Instead, we can let it be it’s own place—a beautiful place bursting with culture, life, and creativity, if only we’d stop comparing it to all the other cities we’ve loved in the past. 

Stop comparing your present season to past ones—you have no idea what could happen tomorrow, propelling you into the greatest season of your life if only you’d stop comparing it to others you’ve had before. Time is a blank slate and you’re the one who gets to choose what happens next in your life.

Will you continue to hold onto all the experiences you’ve had before, hoping the next ones you’ll have will measure up, or will you just enjoy the ride, as it happens in the present moment? 

e

The Emasculation of the American Church

“I want him to ask me out, but he won’t,” a friend told me years ago. “I think he likes me back, but he’s scared. Is it wrong for me to ask him out?” I forget what I told her, but this was not the last time I’ve been asked this question. In fact, I get asked about this maybe once or twice a month from female readers or friends, and it reveals a pattern of soft, timid men. 

I have been told by numerous Christian women that they have a hard time finding good Christian men to date. As a result, many will begin to date outside the church because there is such a dearth of attractive (read: masculine) Christian men. All the Christian men they encounter are weak, weird, or boring. And it doesn’t help that the American church is roughly 60% women to begin with. 

Getting rejected by a woman you like is hurtful, and this makes asking her out especially terrifying. I’ve hesitated countless times in my life before making an approach or bringing up the topic. But the very fact that this is a common theme in American circles highlights a general aura of fear and passivity among our men. 

Maybe the men are unaware of the woman’s feelings, or maybe they don’t feel the same way. I’m sure these represent a percentage of the cases, but the majority seem to be a lack of courage. Even many of my male friends express terror of women, and a fear of approaching them. Remember that Adam’s first sin wasn’t eating the fruit; it was passively standing beside Eve while she did. He was passive in the face of imminent danger to his wife and did nothing to prevent it. 

Non-Christian men seem to have less trouble with this. Granted, there is a similar public conversation on ‘toxic masculinity,’ where men are either oppressors or effeminate, but I know many nonbelievers who have no problem approaching women in a bar or club and starting a conversation. Their testosterone has not been tamped down by love songs prescribed by the church, and prayer times where feelings are discussed. Mix that in with a purity culture which essentially made sex seem like the most heinous sin possible, and you end up with a generation of neutered men who speak softly and have little to give to the rest of the world, much less, to their women. 

The thing I’m concerned with, and which I’d like to explore, is the Christian culture which seems to manufacture these soft and quite frankly, effeminate men. Why, if I see someone decked out in “Christian clothes,” can I guess that they’re not going to be masculine, strong, or hip to culture? I’ve been with multiple Christian missions organizations, Bible college, seminary, and countless churches and conferences, and can tell you that this not out of the ordinary.

So before we get too far ahead, what exactly does it mean to be masculine or feminine? And why is it better for men to be one than the other?

Jordan Peterson has repeatedly pointed out that one of the most detrimental things a woman can have in her life is a weak man. And one of the best things for women are strong men.

This does not imply that women should then just be weak and passive, and if they have a strong man, they can chill. I have met numerous women who are driven, hard working, and when my hand crumpled in the grip of their handshake, I thought This woman could run a company without a problem and it would thrive. And that’s great! I love it. But the existence and prosperity of strong women doesn’t negate a need for equally strong men. 

Now, Peterson and I are careful to differentiate between strong and abusive. It seems that strength has nearly been demonized in our culture, as it has become twisted up with notions like toxic masculinity and patriarchal abuse and control. Very valid critiques and terrible, destructive things.

But is strength destructive in itself? Of course not.

A strong person defending weak people who cannot defend themselves is always an empirical good. It takes strength to hunt, to work, to stay committed to a vow, and the list goes on. 

You can argue that Jesus was one of the strongest people to ever live. Why? Because he attacked others and overthrew nations? No, because He restrained Himself and went through a torturous death when He could have tapped into some divine power and blipped His oppressors out of existence. There is incredible strength in self control, discipline, and even gentleness. 

Is a father showing weakness when he is wrestling with his toddler and lets the toddler win? Or is his restraint, his love, and his power demonstrated through gentleness and playful engagement?

By ‘strength,’ I obviously do not simply mean the ability to bench six plates. You don’t need to be physically ripped to be a strong person. Strength can take shape in numerous ways, as can weakness, and I’m leaving the rest of those definitions open to interpretation, as we can generally recognize strength and weakness when we see them. 

So back to the original question: Why do so many American Christian men seem to tilt toward weakness more than strength? Why is our Church so often represented by out-of-touch homeschoolers, more than respectable, strong men? (And women of course, but for the purposes of this article, I’m focusing on the male population)

Part of it has to do with the very practices and nature of our church for the past several decades. Think about it—if church is reduced to showing up, singing songs about romantically being held by another man, and then sitting quietly while we listen to someone teach, then why are we surprised at the castration of the American Christian man? He’s someone who sits still and listens. And maybe loves dudes…? The church for the past few decades has massively been aimed more at women than men, so it should not be a shock that many of the men raised in this environment have more feminine qualities.

I’m presently listening to the podcast series which investigated the rise and fall of Mars Hill Church, which was fronted by Mark Driscoll. Many of the episodes center on his misogynistic rhetoric and the way he called men to rise up from their passive, feminine roles in life and take hold of their true, biblical masculinity. 

His approach was aggressive and merciless. He did a lot of things wrong by emulating Fight Club more than Christ. But within his misguided approach is the recognition of a real issue: Men in America—Christians in particular—are not taking ownership for their lives. They are being passive, becoming soft, and being led by a culture which more and more wants to declaw its men. 

In our culture at large, there seems to be no middle ground: You are either a machismo toxic pig, or you’re a feminist who loves women. There is scarce representation of a good, manly man, save in fictional tales about Superman or Aragorn in Lord of the Rings. You’re either a liberal, limp-wristed sub, or you’re a trunk-honking, gun shooting, drink-away-the-pain type of conservative.

The church in many ways has followed suit right into those two categories: Being a good man means adopting feminist principles and not doing anything that might offend or stir up anyone. Or, in more conservative churches, the approach is Trumpian, where the machismo is embraced in a blunt and obnoxious way, no matter who is offended. 

The issue is that neither of these approaches imitates the example of masculinity given to us by Christ Himself, who had no problem offending people or becoming angry when the situation was appropriate, but who also empowered women (prostitutes, no less!) and was kind to the outcast. His strength was demonstrated in bold displays, such as turning over the tables in the temple when He witnessed injustice and exclusion, His blunt dealings with the Pharisees, or the way He dominated nature (calming of the storm) and demons. Jesus was also very in touch with all of His emotions, ranging from anger to compassion to grief and weeping. His image of masculinity is not scared to be expressive and emotional.

It seems to me that many churches overemphasize His other attributes more, like gentleness and suffering, without highlighting His strength. The Christian call to men is all-encompassing and brutal. Give everything to this mission, and/or die trying. Sell all you own; die to yourself, live dangerously, and stomp the sin out of your life. 

This call should inevitably lead a man to be gentle when the time calls for it (the father wrestling his toddler; inviting an outsider to church), but to be incredibly strong and forceful in other ways. Will human trafficking be overthrown by passive men who stand by and merely pray for something to change? Will the hungry of the world be fed without business-savvy men who can think of wild new ways to get resources to difficult places? (Again, women too obviously, but we’re talking about men here)

To broaden the spectrum, what about artists? Maybe construction and business aren’t one’s areas of expertise, but the arts are? Is it possible to be a manly creative, whatever that looks like? Of course!

Heck, I’m a writer and I’m strong as freak.

The point is, the church has room to grow. In my ideal vision, the future of masculinity, particularly Christian masculinity, is not the nihilistic, Nietzschian vision of Tyler Durden in Fight Club. Films like these can diagnose the problem, but they cannot reconstruct a solution (literally…he succeeds by blowing up the world and returning it to rubble). 

What if the church were the place where healthy masculinity were championed? Where strength, creativity, AND gentleness thrived and we could function as an example to the rest of the world, rather than an awkward pariah plastered with Jesus clothes and very little substance. Can’t we be strong like old trees with deep roots? The question to men isn’t how strong are you, but how strong is what you’re rooted in?

I believe that the Bible gives us ample foundation for men to be loving and strong; gentle and assertive, rooted in the sacrificial example of Christ Himself. So let’s strive to be more like Him: combining and balancing all those things and showing the world that there is a third option between two anemic extremes.

e

you don’t arrive.

Somewhere along the coast of Brasil

“Yeh mate,” said John the tall Australian with the round belly, “Thailand is a pahty.”

We were at the Gecko hostel in Paraty, Brasil and when I’d reflect on this sentence later, I’d reminisce that if Thailand is a party, Brasil is a poem. It was my first exposure to my favorite continent, and from the moment my plane’s wheels touched down until I departed, every moment seemed touched with a pinch of sepia whimsy. 

Our journey began in Sao Paulo, in the home of some missionaries who took us to a churrascaria and drove us to the ferry the next day. 

Rio was on the horizon. 

We were about 300 miles down the coast from the fabled city, and every day, we inched closer to the magical town. 

We got a hostel in the cobblestoned, colonial Ubatuba and another in Paraty, where we met John the Rotund Aussie. One night, I played kids’ worship songs on the ferry across a bay, and the parents of some of the kids invited us to sleep on their floor that evening. Rio was on the horizon. 

Days later, a coach bus whisked us from the bayside rural towns and we finally entered the limits of Rio de Janeiro. We had made it. 

We checked into a hostel which doubled as an antique store; it was thin, tall, and long like a book on a shelf. It was on one of Rio’s hilly streets and we spent the evenings on the roof or the beach. We got mugged at gunpoint just off the Copacabana. We were in Rio.

But after a few days, we made the journey back to Sao Paulo where we would fly back to the United States. We had arrived at our destination after weeks of progressing toward it, but the ‘being at the destination’ part of our trip was over. Strange.

For a week, Rio rested on the horizon and I felt like things would lock in once we arrived. Like we’d feel a sense of completion. It was all we thought about for a week — how do we get to Rio? Do we take this ferry or that shuttle? 

And then we arrived, and then it was soon time to leave Rio. 

Time is weird. 

You keep expecting some sense of arrival, but it never comes. You never arrive. 

Now, my destination on the horizon is different. It looks like buying a house, having money for travel, coffee, and food, and having a consistent, locked-in circle of friends. But like Rio for my friends and I, none of those things are permanence. 

What are you striving for?

You can’t attain it anyway with any sort of permanence. 

You could lose your job or your car could break down and drain your bank account. Your friends get married and have kids and are reduced to bi-monthly lunch partners. Nothing lasts.

You have nothing in your hands except now and this and what you can see here before you in this instant. That’s what you have. 

And you have the option to enjoy it or complain about it. 

God sends snakes to kill thousands of Israelites when they complained in the desert and I always thought this was a bit of an overreaction. But when you realize that there are journeys and destinations and they’re really not that different from one another, and the present is all you’ll ever have, complaining becomes a much bigger deal. 

Because if you’re not happy right now, what guarantee do you have that you will be in the future? Even if you get your way — you get what you want — you’re not promised that it will last. And then you’ll complain again.

So enjoy now.

There are no destinations, only presence. 

You can be grateful for what you do have now, or you can complain about it, hoping for a better future which will never really arrive. 

e

LIFE HACK! Shrink your social circle, make your life easier…

“My thirties are so much better than my twenties,” she stated. “I’m about to turn 38 and I’m in a much better place.” 

I was smiling and nodding as I listened to this woman I had just met in the park describe her place in life. 

“I have much more money, I care less what people think of me, and every year, my circle shrinks,” she continued. 

I nodded outwardly but internally, I made a mental note to chew on that last statement for a while. She is intentionally shrinking her circle of friends in order to make her life better, and sees this as a good thing. 

I have chewed it over for two days now, and decided that I completely disagree. Granted, she and I start from entirely different theological and philosophical backgrounds: she is not a Christian and I am. 

In her mind, something that makes her life better, more efficient, more comfortable, and easier is ontologically better than something that does not do those things. It’s a common cultural thought right now: become more efficient; make your life better. What does that look like? Well, pruning the tree and getting rid of unnecessary things is certainly a part of this methodology. The problem is when this is applied to people. To human beings.

I know that what she meant by her statement was that with a smaller circle of people she is close to, she has fewer distractions, fewer people making demands on her time and energy, and a more focused and present state with those relationships she is invested in. 

Again, not necessarily bad things. 

The first thing I had to ask myself was, do I simply resist this concept because I’m a raging extrovert who wants to be with people 24/7, or is there something universal to be examined here? 

As a Christian, I tried to picture the Jesus I know making that statement: “Every year my circle shrinks and it’s GREAT. I love it!”

It just doesn’t fit. It actually seems to be very much the opposite of what He was working toward on earth, things like inclusion, welcoming the alien and outcast, 

expanding His circle. 

His imperative to tell everyone about Him and bring more people into the gang doesn’t seem like something said by a man actively shrinking His circle. 

I can picture the people in my mind right now who I would like to shave off of my social life. You have your own collection of difficult people. I can think of people who may be draining or demanding of my energy, and I simply can’t abide an ethic that says ‘Yah, just go ahead and cut them out—your life will be easier.’ 

Quite the opposite. 

I’m not talking about having no boundaries; about becoming an open-doored walking mat who just says yes to everything because you can’t say no. I’m talking about intentional expansion of your circle. I mean going out of our way to welcome in those who are different from us, or who think, believe or live differently than us. 

What about weekly dinners where strangers are welcomed to come and share life and interact? What about the weird people who otherwise wouldn’t be invited to dinner? Are these the sorts of people we should just cut out of our lives because it would be more efficient or convenient? 

Nearly every time I’ve tried to do this, I’ve learned something and grown. Maybe hearing about the world from people who don’t look or live like us would actually teach us something, or at least stretch us. Maybe we’d even make new friends we’d want in our inner circle!

Is the church of Jesus Christ a place where people come to ‘shed the fat,’ so to speak, and shut the door on those who we don’t like? Is Jesus’ plan for saving the world about cutting off the people who bother or disagree with us?

The irony here is that many of the people who would celebrate the shrinking of their social circles are the same people celebrating diversity and inclusion and whatnot—on Twitter or Instagram at least. 

Yes, let me make a post about diversity but shrink my circle in reality. 

Let’s make status updates about being open-minded and progressive but shut our actual doors to people we don’t like.

Is that what the Christian is called to? To shrink our social circles because people bug us or drain us? Is this what Jesus would have done?

I must emphatically argue no.

The God I serve is a God who moves toward people rather than away from them; a God who goes out of His way to make people feel included, not shaved off of someone’s rolodex. 

May we be the same. 

May we actively look for ways to bring people from the outside to the inside. 

May our doors be open and our minds be closed to ideologies that treat humans as disposable or inconvenient. 

May our circles grow bigger. 

e

Am I an incel? Exploring the divisive ideology

Lol, no.
I’m not an incel.

By all their in-language, I’m the definition of a Chad—one of two types of men who exist in the world. But let me back up and define what an incel is first.

I’ve been following this trend for a few years now, and it’s both fascinating, tragic, and increasingly dangerous. It’s ultimately predicated on victimhood of these man-children, but at the same time I can sympathize with a lot of their thought processes.

Incel is short for “involuntary celibate,” or a man who is a single virgin, but not by his own choice. One of the common statements among incel culture is that 80% of sex being had in the world is enjoyed by 20% of the men. In other words, if 10 women have sex in a week, 8 of them will be with just two men (and the other two women are so unattractive that no one wants to sleep with them). It’s an odd play on the Pareto Distribution to be sure, and they have weaponized this idea into some hierarchy of humanity.

And who are these men having all the sex? They are the Chads—the superficial yet attractive men who hog all the sex for themselves. According to incels, there are exactly two types of men: Chads and Virgins. (I’m a weird combination of both I guess? A Virgin Chad? Is there such thing as a VolCel?)

There are also only two types of women: Stacys and Beckys; one is hot and sleeps with Chads and the other one is so feminist and anti-men that she won’t sleep with anyone.

The movement was born on the internet, in forums and chatrooms and employs a lot of language which dehumanizes women (often referring to them with acronyms or as ‘feminoids’), and claims that culture is actually actively set up against men today. You could say it’s an extreme response to fourth-wave feminism, which often presents itself as fighting the patriarchy, or men in general.

This should paint a pretty good picture of how the incel sees the world. It also explains why there have been numerous terrorist attacks connected to the incel culture, including one here in Colorado in 2012 at a movie theater which was dangerously close to my brother. In a world where everything is rigged against you, why wouldn’t you fight back? Why wouldn’t you take revenge on a society that actively works against you to rob you of sex (or love) which you so desperately want, but never seem to get?

This oversimplification of X-group AGAINST Y-group seems to leak into other areas of philosophy as well, and I have learned to be wary of any system that seeks to explain the world in such broad categories. For instance, I have similar complaints against Critical Theory, both in its original context, and as it relates to race. That is, admittedly, a different can of worms entirely, but the idea remains that once you see the world through a lens of ‘oppressor’ and ‘oppressed,’ you begin to build more fences than bridges.

In the case of the incels, they have VICTIM written all over them, and here is where I can sympathize. After all, it’s easy to blame the world that you don’t have any friends,
and that no girl will go out with you,
and that no one will hire you,
and that your body is out of shape,
and that your car broke down right when your rent was due,
and so on.

How many of us have not been there? Blaming the world is the easy part, and now I understand why my dad always said “Life is 10% what happens to you and 90% how you respond to it.”

Crap happens to everyone, and no one is immune. This subculture, though, has taken their unfortunate circumstances and run with it, refusing to take ownership and instead, pointing their myriad of fingers at anyone and anything else—particularly women.

And this is such a tender spot in the heart of humans. Whether they acknowledge it or not (and I think they do by the very name of their group), they are dying for affectionate care, especially from the opposite sex. I’ve often been tempted to be angry at all women when i get rejected. It’s easy to sour my heart into hatred when I think too hard about my own singleness and how desperately I’d love to have a beautiful girlfriend.

And it’s at this point; the point of yearning and unmet desire, where we have the choice: wallow in this pity and let the pity curdle into violent anger, or take ownership of your life and make changes. Grow. Adapt.

But as humans, what’s the easier route to take? If every girl you’ve ever talked to showed no interest in you, is it easier to make some deep changes to yourself, or to log onto a message board and tear them apart from the comfort of your own bedroom? I’ve learned that the longer you stay in your room, the easier it is to stay there, and therefore the harder it becomes to leave it. Incels are people who have become so terrified of the outside world that they’ve allowed this terror to turn to resentment, to say the least.

They’ve gone so far as to praise their fallen brothers who carried out terrorist attacks and were killed or arrested in the process as heroes, paving the way for their progress.

It’s all too easy to learn about groups like this and point disparaging fingers, thinking they are weird and gross. And absolutely—the majority, if not all of their ideology is hideous, harmful and flat-out wrong. 80% of the world’s men are not out having all this magical sex, nor are all women superficial fembots, bent on destroying men and sleeping solely with Chads. Obviously.

After the description above, I don’t think I need to tell you all the things wrong with this way of thinking. But what I do need to remind us of is grace and empathy. Like I mentioned, I’ve felt the draw toward those same feelings.

I got rejected? It’s all women’s fault…I’m perfect.

How dare there be more attractive men who women prefer over me?

When we blame the world at large for everything wrong in our lives, violence seems to be the only solution. After all, if it’s a senseless world which led us to this pit in our lives, a senseless act of rage seems like a fitting response.

It’s only a thin thread between these incels and me. And probably you. Like the August Burns Red song asserts,

I’m just as much the problem as the man behind bars
He did with his business what I do in my heart.

Incels are not the enemy. Our war is not against flesh and blood, but about our own hearts. Our own loveless tendencies. The notion that we are somehow better than people like this.

How can we love these people away from toxic, harmful ideologies, and back into a healthy community which accepts and embraces them? Love is the only thing that can cure this issue. Not censorship, not shutting down certain forums, and certainly not violence. I don’t know what this looks like (I’m not about to get onto some Incel boards and try to minister digitally…I don’t think I could handle it), but I want us to remember that when we talk about subcultures like incels, we are talking about humans.

If we begin to treat them as problems, then we are doing exactly what we accuse them of: dehumanizing people and lumping them into categories. Instead, why can’t the church be the first to reach out to people like this—to the weirdos, the lonely and rejected? Why can’t we be the ones to reverse this and other violent trends?

I think we can.

e

Do right and wrong exist, or is it all about power?

People can’t escape thinking in terms of good and evil; right and wrong; moral and bad. The question Nietzsche wrestled with, and which I have been reflecting on as a result for a few months, is: are these categories real, or are they socially constructed like so many other cultural phenomena?

Let me back up: How do we summarize Nietzsche’s ethic in a way that he may approve of?

I’ve said before that Sir Friedrich was less of a philosopher and more of a sledgehammer, and when you fully grasp the scope of his project, you realize that anything less would have failed outright and his name would have blown away in the winds of history like most everyone else. So what made him rise up above most other notable philosophers? What causes young men to flock to his writings in droves, still today?

I think it’s the radical liberation from the chains of restraint and moral imperatives. 

Nietzsche, upon declaring that there is no God and the idea of Him was no longer necessary, but had begun dying in the human psyche, gave with it a warning. He cautioned people that if they disposed of God, then they would also dispose of all morals, ethics, and codes of order as we had always known them historically. If you removed (or attempted to) all traces of Judeo-Christian ethics from the world, you would face chaos and violence unseen heretofore.

In other words, he warned that a storm was brewing and that the death of God could very likely send humanity into a free-for-all tailspin reminiscent of the book of Judges where “Everyone did as he saw fit.”

Nietzsche outlined this idea in a book fittingly titled Beyond Good and Evil. He rationed that the ideas of good and evil (as deontological concepts, for you nerds) inherently require a deity to define them, or hand them down to humans. 

Put even more simply, if there is such a thing as good and evil, there must be a God who dictates them. 

So if there is no god, what are you left with? What Nietzsche constructed to replace morals, as simply as I can understand it, is the idea of strength versus weakness. 

The deist will say that good is better than bad.
In a similar way, Nietzsche would say that strength is better than weakness.

From this developed the idea of the übermensch, or overman/superman, and the üntermensch, or underman. There are those capable of making their own free decisions, and therefore, their own systems of ethics, and those who like sheep follow in their footsteps.

Nietzsche consistently railed against Christianity because it not only praised weakness and humility, but its founder was someone who voluntarily laid His life down for His enemies. It’s a religion for weakness, he would say over and over. And in the mind of Nietzsche, nothing is worse than weakness. 

Now, on a personal level, reading Nietzsche can always be dangerous despite your circumstances, but reading him while your government seems to be fear mongering its citizens into wearing masks and staying away from other humans, because…they’re dangerous…can lead to some ballsy rebellion. I revolted against the idea of masks, not only because they made it hard to breathe, I already had had Covid, and then got vaccinated, but because they also made me into another rule-following sheep. 

Is that all I am? Am I just someone who follows rules and does what I’m supposed to because I’m told to? 

Suddenly the thought that I’m just another sheep became more scary than Covid itself. What if, ontologically, down to my core, I am just an underman who does what he’s told and is incapable of thinking for himself? 

These were the sorts of things I was wrestling with toward the tail end of the pandemic, but fortunately it ended before too long and I could once again live in bare-faced freedom. It wasn’t just about the inconvenience of wearing a mask, but the mark of submission to an authority for authority’s sake—not science or safety’s sake. After all, the undermen outnumber the overmen a thousand to one…Would I rise up?

Anyway, the entire pandemic rant aside, we are still left with Nietzsche’s core question: are right and wrong real, or are ethics simply invented by those in power at the moment? You could easily come up with examples of shifting ethical stances which have changed in the last 100 years. A century ago, being gay was outlawed by nearly every US state. It could get you arrested. Those in power were WASPy and narrow. 

Now, the reverse is true. Any hints of discrimination against the LGBT+ community could get you doxxed, disbarred, cancelled, and so on. 

The voices in power have spoken.
The people follow. 

Is it a matter of right and wrong, or a matter of power vs. weakness? Which is wrong—being homosexual, or discriminating against it? Depends on who you ask…or when you ask. Or if you can think for yourself.

We could explore the same idea through the lens of tattoos, women, sexual liberty, nationalism, slavery, race, and a plethora more. Do ethics change, does power change, or does the constantly shifting power dictate what’s ethical at the time? 

Is power the only thing that really matters?

I think Nietzsche might say yes. His idea of The Will to Power, which was left undefined but seems to have implicit meaning in his writing, underscores this entire idea. It has woven its fingers into the fabric of our cultural vernacular, like when we hear phrases like “Our greatest fear is not that we are weak, but that we are powerful beyond belief.” He thought these was an inherent desire inside humanity to rise up and overcome. In this sense, it’s easy to see why 20-year-old men gravitate toward his ideals. 

But is he correct? Would his narrative seem to (in the words of Wendell Berry)

Invest in the millennium. Plant sequoias…
Laugh.
Laughter is immeasurable. Be joyful
though you have considered all the facts…
Ask yourself: Will this satisfy
a woman satisfied to bear a child?
Will this disturb the sleep
of a woman near to giving birth?
Go with your love to the fields.
Lie easy in the shade. Rest your head
in her lap. Swear allegiance
to what is nighest your thoughts…
Be like the fox
who makes more tracks than necessary,
some in the wrong direction.
Practice resurrection.

Does his ideal produce more life than death? 

One need look no further than the previous century to find the answer to that question. The century of ideologues led to more death and bloodshed than any sort of warrior-god belief before it. It led to more technological advances—advances which Nietzsche may have seen as sacrifices in the name of progress; in the name of strength growing where it can—but to more utter moral failures than ever seen before. 

Are these advances necessary for humanity to progress out of our tribalistic barbarism, or is that barbaric specter an inevitable element of humanity which will haunt us until the resurrection? Something we may never fully exorcise until our sanctification is complete? The Christian says yes. We should opt for slower progress in the name of preserving life and humanity. 

We may be distracted when certain leaders appeal to power, offering us freedom and power beyond our wildest dreams, not to mention technological advances which better our lives, but which historically make worse the lives of others we don’t know (read: how first world technology consistently leads to more destruction of developing countries). 

Whose lives matter? This question and those like it are where Nietzsche’s philosophy begins to fall apart. If strength dictates what is right and wrong, then there is no value to the lives of the weak. Strength conquers. 

There is more to say to this, but I’ll wrap this one up here. Nietzsche is a compelling voice, especially to those who like him believe that God is dead, and we can construct our own morals. But beware of embracing this mentality fully—first off, because I believe you can’t, and secondly, because you will inevitably discard the humanity of many people. Your ego may swell in an effort to live out your own perceived truth, but the violence done to your fellow humans by this explanation is not excusable. 

Without further contending with Nietzsche, how is this for a universal ethical principle:

Pursue that which produces more life than death. 

e

And Now, A Completely Different Argument for Tattoos

In Christian circles that debate this sort of thing, the subject of tattoos revolves around two things. Or rather, two primary arguments are made against tattoos, and there are like three that are given for them. Yesterday, I accidentally stumbled across a completely new perspective on Christians getting tattoos, stemming from an ancient pilgrim practice and a 700-year-old tattoo shop.

If you have ears and/or eyes, you are familiar with how the conversation normally goes (But if you don’t, here’s a more rigid examination of the arguments). Some fundamentalist-type brings up a verse from Leviticus which forbids the marking of skin, to which the young Bible scholar points out that this verse is archaic and refers only to Israelites who had escaped from Egypt circa the 1300’s BC. And so on.

It boils down to the fact that the older person simply doesn’t like them, and the younger person just thinks they’re cool, and neither one has a solid biblical imperative for their side; they just have their own preferences. Which is fine.

And for most of my life, until yesterday, that’s what I thought too. I thought that the best a Christian could do is eek by, building a series of excuses for why, no, I think it’s actually ok for me to have a tattoo and still love Jesus. Please.

In other words, I always thought it was permissible but never encouraged.

The closest I could come up with was the defense that they start conversations and get people asking about my faith. This is true too (for me anyway…I don’t know how many introverts who use that defense have actually chatted with strangers as a result of their ink. Am I biased against introverts? idk), but it’s still a rather anemic argument.

But yesterday I learned about an ancient Coptic tradition in which Christians–and especially Christians–would get tattoos to mark themselves as Christians. The most common of these Coptic symbols which you may have seen before is the Coptic Cross:

This and other symbols like it marked the individual as a follower of the Way of Jesus. Honestly, some of these are awesome and I’m considering sticking one on myself.

In other words, once you were marked publicly as a Christian, there was no more turning back. You don’t get tattooed and then just change your mind when you decide to pursue other comforts. At least in the Middle Ages you don’t–it’s either a knife to your skin or you embrace the decision you made: first to follow Christ, and then to take that decision public with your skin.

We in Christian ministry always use the explanation of baptism as a public declaration of our invisible decision to follow Christ. How much more public and permanent is a tattoo?

Now to take it a step further, place yourself in the Middle or Near East, where being a Christian is not merely a word you put in your Instagram bio, but could get you into some real trouble. Imagine living in a place where you regularly brush shoulders with Muslims and Sikhs and being outed as a Christian in the wrong part of town could have serious consequences.

The Coptic tattoo tradition wasn’t just to get some cool ink with some quasi-spiritual meaning beneath the ink, but a declaration of Who you follow, Who you worship. Like salvation should be, getting a Coptic tattoo is an irreversible statement that you’ve decided to follow Jesus and there’s no turning back.

The Greek word they used was ‘stygma’ which meant ‘marked.’ Christians were actually eager to mark themselves for Christ once they entered into the church.

Seen through this lens, getting a tattoo in the Coptic world seems more like something Christians should do, rather than something to be critiqued! I can almost picture a Coptic Christian grandmother chastising her grandchildren for not getting their tattoos soon enough.

“Where are your markings, child?? You’ve been baptized for two years now! Why haven’t you shown it yet?? What are you waiting for, an engraved invitation? Come on, Bubbeh will take you to the shop.”

Maybe we Westerners got so wrapped up in our own myopic arguments over these things that we lost sight of many of the larger realities: That any sort of public branding ourselves for Christ will not go to waste. Like Paul says with some strong language, we have become slaves to Christ, and a tattoo, especially in this tradition, is a beautiful way to show it.

e

Read more about the 700-year-old shop here

More history of religious tattoos

I’m in love with half of you (a poem)

I’m in love with half of you,
the part that’s make believe.
The part that’s more projection
than the you that moves and breathes.

I’m in love with half of you,
the part I comprehend.
The part my mind invented
which you’ll never need to mend. 

I’ll slowly learn the rest of you, 
the part of you that’s you.
It will take time, but years from now
I’ll meet you, someone new. 

e