Good and Beautiful and Kind: Becoming Whole in a Fractured World

by Rich Villodas

Let me emphasize this point with a poignant observation from South African professor and bishop Peter Storey, who perceptively wrote, American preachers have a task more difficult, perhaps, than those faced by us under South Africa’s apartheid, or Christians under Communism. We had obvious evils to engage; you have to unwrap your culture from years of red, white and blue myth…. You have to help good people see how they have let their institutions do their sinning for them.[13]

When Jesus was tempted, Scripture flowed from his lips. When he was challenged, Scripture flowed from his lips. When he was crucified, Scripture

flowed from his lips. One of the ways to live like Jesus is to internalize Scripture so that when we are cut, it spills out.

surrounded by pain from the past and are very likely carrying it in the present. Untended, the wounds we bear can lead to anxious reactivity and an inability to be truly “here,” which often results in diverse attempts at suppressing our pain through escapism or the creation of alternate interpretations that

we choose to believe instead of our own. Yet to be marked by love calls for a difficult but liberating discovery: It’s in the compassionate confrontation of our wounds and trauma that we stumble toward wholeness, which, in turn, allows us to become agents of healing.

Maté, a medical doctor who has extensively studied the connection between stress and disease, noted that many people experience stress-related illness “not because something negative was inflicted on them but because something positive was withheld.”[9] This is an important insight for all of us. Because human love will always be imperfect, we tend to carry gaps in our psychological, emotional, and relational development that must be tended to.

Facing the truth about ourselves and opening that part of our lives to God are imperative because God dwells only in reality. Telling our stories still proves to be enormously challenging. As Van der Kolk has written, “It takes enormous trust and courage to allow yourself to remember.”[12] This act of remembering necessitates patient and healing spaces.

One of the reasons contemplative prayer is socially subversive is because in this kind of prayer, our personal contradictions are revealed. And when we can reject illusions of ourselves, we can live with greater discernment as we engage the world.

Contemplative practices strengthen a specific neurological circuit that generates peacefulness, social awareness, and compassion for others.[6]

You see, humility is not just doing a lowly task; it’s a life committed to the hard task of lowering one’s defenses. When we envision humility,

the angle of humility that we desperately need for our fractured world is seeing it as the ability to live freely from protecting the false self—living free from the defensiveness that closes us in on ourselves.

Our fragility is one of the most

important signs that the false self is running the show. And when we allow ourselves to be led by our fragility instead of protecting it, we open ourselves to a way of life marked by internal freedom, no longer governed by the words and actions of others. This is what Jesus offers us in his most important sermon.

The humble person recognizes that there are so many issues beneath our lives. The faster we can own this, the freer we can be and the more loving in the process.

How can the world be healed without humility? The world needs

One of the greatest gifts we give the people we lead (and generally the people we are in relationship with) is a lack of defensiveness. One of the marks of a healthy culture and a healthy soul is the willingness to be curious, open, teachable, and humble.

The way of humility essentially says, I don’t take myself too seriously; I have no need to project myself as something I’m not; I don’t need to be in control; I’m open to things that are beyond my experience or understanding.

Without complicating this habit, there are a few questions we would do well to consider asking others, especially when disagreements, conflicts, and tensions surface. People growing in humility are open to other perspectives because they know that our vision is never perfect. Here are some questions to consider asking:

How do you experience me? How might I have done that differently? Where do you see an area of growth for me? Where am I missing it? How can I love you better?

was right, I interrupted her with disproportionate

Becoming someone who can remain present to oneself and to another, especially in times of disagreement or distress, is one of the most important

things we can do to become whole.

I’m convinced that the most important skill needed in our world today is learning to cultivate calm presence.

Emotional self-regulation is about adjusting ourselves in such a way that keeps us present to ourselves, for the sake of presence with others.

The biggest challenge in our relationships is placing the burden of change on someone else. It’s infuriating and exhausting to live from this place. Self-differentiation is the commitment to paying attention to our actions, our reactions, our anxiety, our responsibility. Through self-regulation practices, we give our bodies and souls the care they need in order for us to relate to others from a unanxious place.

Steps to a Clean Fight Ask for permission. State the problem. “I notice…” State why it is important to you. “I value…” Fill in the following sentence: “When you…I feel…” State your request clearly, respectfully, and specifically.[6]

Defensiveness is often a subtle but blatant rejection of our humanity and, consequently, a rejection of God’s grace.

Experiencing grace requires our walls to come down.

God, the all-knowing One, remembers our sins. This is what makes forgiveness so powerful. In the act of forgiveness, God’s memory is not wiped clean like a laptop we want to refurbish, nor should we be expected to live with a sudden case of amnesia. God still has memory of our sins and, in mercy, doesn’t hold them against us.

And there’s only one place where God doesn’t dwell: unreality. God dwells only in truth.

In these moments, by God’s grace, we must be able to gain clarity on how the other person has perceived the conflict and with humility name our blind spots and work toward healing. And, unfortunately, our way of asking for forgiveness often leaves much to be desired. In asking for forgiveness, we are

to focus on our actions, not the person’s perception of the event. For example, to focus on the person’s perception leads us to saying things like, “I’m sorry you feel that way” or “I’m sorry you took offense at what I said.” This approach has not and will not heal our relationships.

Again, justice in the fullest and best sense of the word is about love. But much stands in the way of bringing our lives to this sacred task. The work of justice requires a theological and emotional reimagining. Not all of us are called to the same level of engagement, but we are all commissioned by Christ to serve those around us in concrete ways. Yet, some significant barriers remain, much of them internal.

This emphasis on meritocracy is a core component of the American value system. It presupposes that experiences of injustice are usually tied to lack of effort. I’ve heard this repeated from many, from upwardly mobile White people to successful Asian immigrants to highly educated Latinos: “If these people only worked harder, they would not be poor.” “If they pursued an education, they would live in greater freedom.” “If they didn’t rely on the government, they would experience success.” It’s ironic that Christians who believe in salvation by grace and not our merit can be so formed by a social theology of meritocracy. But, clearly, no amount of money or success—especially for people of color—can be a protective coating against unfair treatment in this world.

Because we are people endowed with the Holy Spirit, God’s life is shed upon our hearts to show the world the future that awaits. This is the compelling story of the first Christians in the book of Acts: They devoted themselves to the apostles’ teaching and to fellowship, to the breaking of bread and to prayer. Everyone was filled with awe at the many wonders and signs performed by the apostles. All the believers were together and had everything in common. They sold property and possessions to give to anyone who had need. Every day they continued to meet together in the temple courts. They broke bread in their homes and ate together with glad and sincere hearts, praising God and enjoying the favor of all the people. And the Lord added to their number daily those who were being saved. (2:42–47)

Read these words again. This is a community marked by justice—not the justice of individualism and personal rights, but one marked by compassion, generosity, and wholeness.

To have a good, beautiful, and kind life—one formed by love—requires us to extend our faith beyond the borders of our private emotional and spiritual concerns. We are called into a larger story, one characterized by participation in God’s kingdom. It’s the kind of participation that drives out passivity.

To abide in God’s love can sound ethereal and abstract, like something restricted for the spiritual elite. But it’s not. Not at all. Abiding in love is for anyone who wants to do it. But it requires something of most of us: a fundamental shift in our perspective.