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Level 3 Thinking

September 10, 2013 / Michele Minehart

I’m newly addicted to writer G over at Momastery (I know, I’m slow to the game. It’s like skinny jeans. I refused to join in when I saw it was popular to see if it was a fad or not; now that it’s a staple, I feel like I’m finally part of the cool crowd again). So, now that G and I have reached some sort of “where have you been all my life” moment, of course she revolutionized my way of thinking.

This post on the 3 levels has resurfaced in my thoughts time and time again. While I realized that the way people spoke about things and people tends to reveal a bit about both their character, I had not given it full range of motion in to maturity. But G’s therapist, to whom I now feel I owe a co-pay, hits it on the head. Some people never move out of Level 2 thinking. But those that I love to be around: all 3s. I just don’t have the energy for 2’s like I used to.

I began to think not only about myself (and general lack of maturity based on this evaluation), but also how it applied to my spiritual self. I see the development of individuals as they navigate the course of faith-life looking similar. After the newness, the initial mountain-top, we hit a valley and allllll is wronnnnnng. With everything. Excuse me for a brief panic attack as I mentally re-live my 20s.

But then the good ones coast into Level 3. When you can brush off all the shortcomings. The little old ladies who were previously so “out of touch” and “overprotective of their social meetings” are suddenly retired warriors from battles you’re currently fighting.

I believe I’m starting to come into Level 3 thinking, at least in terms of my faith life. Goodness lies at the heart all of these efforts, of that I’m confident.

Just don’t ask me to take the same position about things like Walmart, Big Pharma or Monsanto. I’m still in process.

What if we care more about sin than Jesus does?

September 9, 2013 / Michele Minehart

I’m sorry, religious folk. I’m about to ask some dangerous questions. Thankfully I have a God who is patient with those learning and seeking and living inside of wonder.

If I’m spiritually starving for anything right now, it’s the knowledge of the “Kingdom of God.” This place of which Jesus speaks, using all these word-riddles to describe it because, apparently, a dictionary definition doesn’t exist. So I went through the first part of the Gospel of Matthew, specifically the 13th chapter, to get a picture. All these parables like colors, individually make a confusing monochromatic sketch, but when layered upon one another, they reveal a rich portrait.

Jesus says the Kingdom is seed sown. But then he completely confuses all farmers in the audience because he said the seed is sown EVERYWHERE. In rocks, on the road, in the weeds. Any good farmer would ask, “why waste the seed?” but not Jesus. He’s a rich farmer and he’ll toss seed everywhere. Something might grow. And anything that grows will be worth the price of the seed.

Then he says the Kingdom is the field with bunches of good crops growing. But in the middle of the night the enemy plants weeds. And it grows, too. Do we start weeding right now? the farmhands say. Nope, Farmer Jesus says. Let it grow. It will sort itself out in the end. You might mistake a weed for a good plant.

Farmer Jesus tells us about the seed. It’s mustard. Teeny-tiny, eensy-weensy mustard. But plant it and it’s bigger than anything else that will grow.

Now, says Jesus, things about that field are about to get crazy. You see, you stumble into a treasure. You find this chest of goodies. But you don’t go get your money and buy this small square in the middle of a large plain. No, no. You buy the whole daggone field. And this is not about real estate ethics. It’s about knowing the worth. Who cares if the whole rest of the field sits vacant and grows weeds. The treasure you found is worth the price of the field.

And now that you have this treasure, it’s time to go shopping. Jewelry shopping. Pearl shopping. We’ll sell it all to find that one thing of sheer beauty. It’s worth sorting through the imitations to find the real thing.

Over and over Jesus admits to the weeds, the emptiness, the uselessness of places. He knows about the work of sorting. But over and over again, he suggests that the treasure found within the mess is worth it.

What if He feels that way about people, too? What if this Kingdom-thing is about people?

What if Jesus says, “Sure. You’ve got a bit of dirt on you. But dig around. I promise, there’s treasure in there. How do I know? Because I planted it. Everywhere. There has to be some growing because there’s not a part of the world I didn’t plant it.”

Now I look at Jesus, all his preaching and his teaching. I look at his audiences and how he treated them and what he said to them. If he ever talked about sin, it was to the religious folk. Those paranoid with the rest of the field. What if a weed grows? What can we spray on that to keep weeds from growing?

But Jesus looks at “the least of these” and points and says, “treasure.” Those that society believed were unworthy, those that bore stigma as a result of assumed sin, Jesus comes to them and says “what a beautiful pearl.” I’ll buy that.

In my survey of scripture, I see Jesus taking the emphasis off sin and onto the goodness that God had created. Sure, he’ll tell the woman, “go and sin no more.” Don’t plant more weeds. Weeds come with a field, that’s just the way the ground works thanks to the tree we chose and some fruit.

Instead, plant goodness. Take those teeny-tiny, eensy-weensy mustard seeds and plant those. Oh, it may seem senseless. In fact, they’re so small you wonder why you’re tossing them about at all. Does it matter if I smile? Does this bit of patience with my child really pay off? Does a second chance, a moment of forgiveness for a friend – will it do anything in the scheme of life?

Ah, but my child, yes. Those will grow into the biggest trees you’ll ever see in your life. Everyone will come for shade, to be refreshed. Friends and strangers flock to it for rest.

BUT WHAT ABOUT ALL THE WEEDS? we keep asking. Who will purchase a weed-filled field? Jesus will. With a cross. With his life. With everything He has.

Stop your pre-occupation with weeds. Just plant mustard. Everywhere. Even among the weeds.

Whose job is it, anyway?

September 5, 2013 / Michele Minehart

I’m reading up on some fascinating conversation on the blogosphere, which leaked into the FB feed, regarding boys, moms, girls and how those girls dress. Can I first say “Bravo! We’re talking! Not just complaining!” Hoo-ray! My years at the church yielded a lot of disgusted comments about “how girls dress these days” without anyone really doing something to make change, thus leaving us all – as KLR would say – part of the problem rather than part of the solution.

So we have Mrs. Hall speaking out to teenage girls, letting them know they’re not invisible. In fact, they’re more visible to more people than they imagine. And then Mrs. Hall got more attention than she imagined – just google “Mrs. Hall girls attention” and you get a million and a half “Dear Mrs. Hall” posts. Of the responses, I’ve appreciated a few, such as the one that my cousin E referenced (btw, who names their blog something about urinal cake? Or am I reading it wrong and it’s one of those poorly thought out, run-together web names?) and then Momestary linked up to this guy. I appreciated both of these authors’ tones, not condescending or even fully contradicting, but adding to what Mrs. Hall had to say. Nicely done, friends!

The whole thing returned me to conversation I began with friends several months ago related to how girls dress and that whole “one piece swimsuit” debacle. On the one hand, the expectations exist for girls to dress in a way that honors their bodies and helps young (and old) men from being tempted into lusty thoughts. I can agree, when girls dress with less cleavage and less skin it can benefit numerous parties.

The other hand doesn’t like young (and old) women left holding the responsibility for so many. Boys aren’t the product of their situation and have full capability to keep their eyes from leading them into thoughts of lust. It’s not fair to hold girls responsible for the sin of boys.

So, if we don’t want to blame the girls, yet the boys could really use the help, whose job is it to make sure these kids have a shot at living in a way that honors everyone?

I’m trying to teach my kids to be kind to others and be aware of how others feel, rather than having only their own interests to guide them. I must say: this is difficult. It turns out that empathy and compassion live in there somewhere, but often require some coaching before they emerge. We almost have to learn them and practice them. Similarly, I’m trying to allow each child to grow into the she or he that God has made them.

In the midst of teaching H Boy how to think about others, he’ll take it too far. He begins to police the girls, announcing to everyone when Miss M gets one more carrot than everybody else or giving a play-by-play of Lady C’s latest infraction of the rules. Now he’s not just considering everyone else, he’s using everyone else as leverage. How do you teach kids, and teenagers, and even adults, that we need to consider one another and think about one another – protect one another – without patrolling and controlling them?

I frequently ask H Boy to watch out for the girls while they play outside. But if Miss M attempts something and falls and gets hurt, I cannot blame H for his sister’s shortcomings. He can only do so much. Personal responsibility reigns supreme. But that doesn’t mean that H can’t coach, advise, encourage, warn and assist. He can do everything possible to provide the best possible outcome. But when the buck stops, it’s not in his hand.

A friend wisely told me, “Are we our brother’s keeper? Absolutely.” That stuck. We are. In the struggle of living in a culture filled with overt sexuality and confusing messages, everyone pitches in. Moms who write blogs and bring awareness to the issue. Dads who treat moms and other women with love and respect. Neighbors who give attention to kids and blossoming adults for making wise choices – about the way they dress and the character they embody. Church families who pray over the kids and the parents as everyone navigates the rocky waters.

I wonder if the best approach is to avoid the blame game altogether. Instead of pointing fingers, start holding hands. Ladies, if we don’t want boobies to be objectified, don’t put them out as objects to be oggled. Gentlemen, if we don’t want girls to lure you into a trap of temptation, then (while practicing that challenging skill of self-control) begin honoring the girls who live up to your virtuous, flesh-under-clothing standards. Such pictures get posted because the end goal is achieved: attention. If you start paying attention to that which you value, in this case modesty, then the girls who want to catch your eye will begin taking that route.

And parents (*looks at self*) be careful not to put the weight of the sins of society onto the shoulders of a single child. We’re talking culture shift here: Wading through the muck of decades of cultural commentary on sexuality and the body where both “the media” and the Church have piped up in unhealthy ways. Let’s own that.

Now, I’d love to know: in what ways are you practically working to instill these values of modesty and treating all people with respect (no matter what their attire)? How do you bring up the conversation? As always, what does this look like when lived out well?

Michele Minehart

Page 109 of 312

Level 3 Thinking

What if we care more about sin than Jesus does?

Whose job is it, anyway?

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