Resiliency



A growing catchword I hear in schools is "resiliency". A teacher might put "resiliency" as a learning goal for a child, but (as we experienced) when we asked how they planned to teach resiliency to our child, or how we could help teach resiliency at home, we were met with a blank stare. Perhaps other teachers could actually give us the means to do this, but this one wasn't able to. 

I think this is something that is happening in our culture generally right now, and I have seen it in "spirituality" circles as well. In some forms of spirituality we become obsessed with our inner emotional realities. At one point, I was convinced that my goal in prayer was to sit before God in prayer and seek out emotional knots or wounds within me, hoping that in the end I would come out the other side whole and healthy.
 I would seek to process these wounds with God in prayer, slowly untying the knot. Then, I would reach within myself and select the next knot and begin the process all over again. After a lot of time doing this, and journaling about it, I realized that the knot pile within me wasn't getting any smaller. Not only that, I saw that I was obsessing over myself and my inner feelings. My journal was full of complaints about myself and my pain. I became ultra sensitive, and couldn't handle any criticism. There was next to no gratitude in me.  I had become incredibly fragile. The whole world had become a tapestry of pain to my eyes. 

I think many who want to deal with spirituality have mixed this with a kind of pop-psychology, which is obsessed with seeking out and dealing with wounds, as if once the wounds are dealt with you will come out the other side as a whole healthy person.  

Don't get me wrong. I'm not saying we should ignore our emotional reality. When genuinely bad things happen to us, we should process that experience. That is important to do, and there are good ways to do that with people who care for you. I'm talking about a general attitude of seeking out pain and amplifying it in our attention. And this leaves us not just sensitive, but very fragile.  

I think we have forgotten how to suffer. Presently, our reaction to suffering seems to be as a challenge to our faith- like suffering is to live a contradiction. It makes us feel like God is absent, like God has abandoned us, either because we are bad, or even feeling like God is bad. (God, save us from becoming Your judge, because there is no escape from that hole). 
Reading Early Christian literature leaves one with a robust sense that God will use our suffering to shape our character, or to bring about some greater good. Our symbol is a cross! As I've said before, it's not that God necessarily causes the suffering, but God will transform it when it is offered to Him. As Christians, we have forgotten how to suffer. This is not to deny the suffering, either. I'm talking about suffering in hope and faith, knowing That God still loves you and will use even this to elevate your soul.       

There is no end to naming our hurts. This turns us inward, and if we aren't careful we can get lost in those catacombs. Caring people around us will offer
 sympathy, support, and attention. These are good things. Empathy and compassion are good things. But we can also get addicted to these things, I think. They are reminders to us that we matter, that we are cared about. The more fragile we become, the more we need these things from others.  Again, empathy and compassion are good things. But, this cycle of seeking out wounds and seeking someone to comfort us and affirm us, creates fragility in us, I think.  I'm worried about becoming imbalanced. 
It is one thing to seek help from friends when your father suddenly dies of a heart attack. It is another thing to seek help when someone gives you the finger in traffic, or when someone disagrees with you on a political issue.   

As a society, we don't seem to know how to build resiliency. Even what I just wrote probably offended some who read it, who now feel hurt, or that I'm missing important exceptions.  W
e are constantly amplifying our hurts, as if being the most hurt person in the room meant your voice mattered more than other voices (and here there is potential power that can be used to dominate others). 

Again, we aren't to ignore people in pain, but we seem to have no clue how to work through our hurts so that we get to a place of strength. 

After  the treatment of Jewish people in WW2, and the civil rights movement under MLK jr, I think we rightfully learned to focus on victims within society.

But I think this has turned into a focus on personal pain and victimhood, where we all want to see ourselves in a kind of victim role. Sometimes we absolutely are victims, but sometimes we are looking for ways to be a victim because there is a strange kind of power that comes with being offended and the moral high ground of being wronged.  

We somehow think we have the right to never be contradicted or disagreed with. If someone disagrees with me I feel like they haven't "heard" me, or didn't listen to me. Maybe they did, they just disagree. We have become so fragile that hearing an idea we disagree with leaves us saying it made us feel "unsafe". 

We live in a society that is probably more tolerant of difference than any other place or time in human history. We have abundance and technology that our ancestors couldn't imagine. And yet, we are still unhappy and mostly ungrateful. 
Again, I agree that there are awful things that happen to people. Those aren't the people I'm thinking about. What I'm thinking about is a train of thought that leads to fragility rather than strength. 
God help us 


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