Eve.

Hi, little Eve.

You may know me as "that-far-away-deeper-toned-droning-underwater-voice-that-never-shuts-up,-seriously,-never." Also, I'm the bigger hand that you sometimes feel push back when you're kicking your mom's bladder and ribs in the morning.

I'm your dad.

Can you believe that we're actually going meet in three months? Yeah, "Jump back!" is what I said, too.

Your mom and I found out that you were a girl just a week ago. Your mom was so happy she almost started crying when they told us (you'll realize just how significant that is as you get to know her). She had tears in her eyes and covered her mouth with one hand and squeezed my hand really hard with the other as she laid on her back with blue goop smeared all over her you-filled-belly. It was a crazy-beautiful moment.

Headed into the ultrasound, I really didn't have a feeling whether you were a boy or a girl, but I felt prepared for either scenario; it's all I've been imagining for the last six months, you know? It was all ridiculously exciting, right?

Well. I was not prepared. I did not have any idea what it would feel like when that technician told us you were a girl. I was stunned. Shocked, even. Hell, let's call it a feeling-supernova. It was like being handed an atomic bomb and trying to fit it into my back pocket and carry it around with me.

Eve, there's a massive world out here and it's beautiful and tragic and hilarious and lovely and murderous and precious and you're my daughter.

It can be hard for me not to feel anxious when your mother goes places without me.

I mean... God help us, Eve. It is madness out here. I've realized that there's a blackhole in the center of my feeling-supernova, and it's fear. How jacked-up is that? They told me you were a girl, and one of the first thoughts I had after we walked out of that radiology lab was what a dangerous place the world is for you in ways that it is just not for me, solely because I passed you my X chromosome instead of my Y.

So many humans are utter animals, and half of those animals are like me. Men. And women, too- so many people who will want to devour your vulnerability. Devour your humanity.

I never could have imagined the amount of pain I'd see your mom go through in the last five years. I didn't understand how savagely, how systemically, people prey on the humanity and vulnerability of women.

I didn't understand that I was am one of those people.

Eve, I'm your dad, so listen to me-

You are an immortal, God-like soul with unfathomable potential and, God willing, your mother's brains. I'm overwhelmed at the thought of what you're like, what's in you to do.

Trust your vulnerability. When you feel like I'm trying to control you, be defensive. When you feel manipulated, dig in your heels and scream. Embarrass me publicly. Be angry when I violate your sovereignty and be slow to open back up to me when I do.

I know when you're one-year-old and trying to shove metal things into power outlets, we're gonna have it out. I know when we've put you into bed for the sixth time and you continue to insist you've not had adequate amounts of water, I'm going to want to crush your resistance and make my life easier.

Fight me. I want you to feel and be powerful in every single conflict we ever have, because everywhere you go, with everyone you meet, you have to know that you are powerful, and the world needs you to be who you are.

When you listen to me, I want it to be because you are convinced, in that very moment, that I would die for you to be free, loved, and powerful. That I am using my influence and power to benefit you, not me.

You, not me.

You are not a gift for me. Nothing about you, your purpose, or your life is for me.

The gift to me is that I will get to know you. In a way that no one else in the whole damn world ever will. See you grow. Teach you how to pump your legs and swing by yourself. How to swim. Make huge messes and be really loud. My gift is that I that I get to be here for you.

I'm so freaking excited, Eve. I can't wait to be insanely sleep-deprived.

I'm so glad you're coming to live with us.

You Have Forgotten.

I have not written anything for months.

Even now, I am fighting the empty pressure in my head. In normal conversation I've been doing fine, but every time I sit down at my laptop, typewriter, notebook, or anything- nothing. I get nothing.

"Read something! Prime the pump!"

I have been. The Atonement: Four Views, The War of Art, some Kipling, and I recently rediscovered two of my earliest journals, circa. 2004. Just reconnecting with that voice, that person- is a painful and troubling experience; the kind of experience that formerly provoked all kinds of discussion and narrative in my head.

But not today. Not for months.

Without a doubt, I got more feedback from my last post than all other things I have ever written combined. Some of it affirmative, some of it advising, some of it critical and dissuasive.

In writing, I feel that I can hold my ground. I can transform my thoughts into the words that I feel best carry my meaning. I don't feel the pressure of someone else's moment-by-moment emotions. Good or bad. Especially bad, though. Disappointment, hurt, anger, disdain- any of the feelings that get expressed during conflict in relationships. When those emotions start manifesting in front of me, they become hijackers on my train of thought. They tell me that I've done something wrong. They tell me I need to fix something.

And I start backing down. Looking for ways to discredit my motives so that I can agree with the feeling that this was my mistake, so then I can fix it. Apologizing. Floundering.

Then, months later, I sit in the quiet of my home, trying to coax my voice out of wherever-the-hell it went.

And I feel this blank pressure. This internal block.

I feel like my inside-self is in there, gnashing his teeth, totally unwilling to open up. Because sure as he does, I'm gonna throw us both under the bus again. I'll cave. I'll say I was wrong to have done it like I did it. I'll make it my responsibility to change or discredit myself adequately to neutralize the conflict.

I came across a forgotten, unpublished entry on my blog from back in March. It was a single sentence that read,

"How little does it take to shut me down?"

Not that I want to feel capable of streamrolling over people or not care what they're feeling/saying. But I struggle to be true to myself in conflict. That's the problem. Hell, I struggle to be true to myself at all. Even when it's positive feedback; that can become a hijacker. And sure, while some people want me to neutralize the conflict or address their concerns, no one wants me to like I do.

No one has my back less than me.

And after months of blank, months of trying to say anything, I feel like, right now, I finally see that.

That's gonna have to stop.

Concerning Hydras.

The following are some of my thoughts and convictions regarding gender-based hierarchy and scripture. I know there are other relevant scriptures, so you should probably write blogs about them.

(Note: lots of people whom I love very dearly are practicing complementarians. They rock at loving each other and laying down their lives for one another. I am blessed to know them.)

ENGAGE!

I am intimately familiar with intentional patriarchy and know many who comport their lives with that system. I have been to their conventions, listened to their teachings, and was even given a small book of poetry fashioned for patriarchs (yes, it is odd).

After twenty-six years of life and four years of marriage, I have solidly come to believe that patriarchy is neither appropriate nor beneficial for human relationships, particularly in the body of Christ.

Usually, in the course of a discussion on this topic, Ephesians 5 comes to the fore. It is not the only relevant scripture in this conversation, but I would call it central.

For me, beginning to understand what is going on here starts in verse nineteen:

"be filled with the Spirit, speaking to one another in psalms and hymns and spiritual songs, singing and making melody with your heart to the Lord; always giving thanks for all things in the name of our Lord Jesus Christ to God, even the Father; and be subject to one another in the fear of Christ."

Be subject to one another.

Living in a modern democracy, the significance of this idea is still powerful. But in the Greco-Roman world, it was staggering; especially given that in the following verses we see that Paul was writing with wives/husbands, children/fathers, slaves/masters all in mind. In Greek, Roman, and even Jewish culture, the hierarchy in these relationships was absolute. One side of these relationships had standing and power in society (husbands, fathers, masters) and the other did not (wives, children, slaves).

Yet, in the previous four chapters, Paul has been addressing all of them as one. One body.

Paul has made the case that all of them have been:

- blessed with every spiritual blessing in Christ
- adopted into God's family
- shown the mystery of God's will
- given a glorious inheritance
- seated with Christ in heavenly places
- given equal access by the same Spirit to the Father
- made the dwelling place (temple) of God
- given the gifts of Christ (without distinction made regarding gender): i.e. apostles, prophets, evangelists, pastors, teachers
- sealed with the Holy Spirit

And that's just the beginning.

And here's the crazy part- all of this was given to them entirely by the overflowing love of the Father through Jesus Christ. It had nothing to do with their personal merits, societal standing, or gender.

It was exclusively by faith in God.

I take pains with providing this context because everything that follows in Ephesians 5 is in light of this understanding. Their identity, their inheritance, their role - all of these things came from what Christ did for them and who He was in them; not from anything else.

I strongly believe that Paul was not trying to use this passage to teach the men of Ephesus to be heads, or teach the women of Ephesus to consider that their husbands were their heads.

Why?

Because that would have been a ridiculously redundant concept for him to teach the people of Ephesus. Men were already the "heads" of their wives in the heavily Greco-Roman culture in Ephesus. Patriarchy was a "no-duh" in Greek, Roman, and Jewish culture, along with slavery.

"Headship" was not a teaching in this passage, anymore than slavery was a teaching. Rather, Paul was speaking into the existing cultural understanding and redefining how wives/husbands, children/fathers, slaves/masters (notice - all hierarchies) should treat one another, given that they had become one in Christ, co-heirs with Christ, and seated in heavenly places with Christ.

"Wives, be subject to your own husbands, as to the Lord. For the husband is the head of the wife"

"Slaves, be obedient to those who are your masters according to the flesh, with fear and trembling, in the sincerity of your heart, as to Christ; not by way of eyeservice, as men-pleasers, but as slaves of Christ, doing the will of God from the heart."

Paul is describing total submission.

But do we argue that Paul's intent in this teaching to slaves was to uphold the institution of slavery as God's design?

Certainly not.

Do we argue that Paul's intent in this teaching to wives was to uphold male-oriented hierarchy as God's design?

Some do.

But I do not believe the argument can be convincingly made from this passage.

Both slaves and wives are told to relate to their masters and husbands in the same way that they relate to Christ, as an outflow of their relationship with Christ.

And look at how it speaks to husbands and  masters:

"Husbands, love your wives, just as Christ also loved the church and gave Himself up for her"

"And masters, do the same things to them [that the slaves are to do for their masters], and give up threatening, knowing that both their Master and yours is in heaven, and there is no partiality with Him."

This passage holds earth-shattering implications for all of us.

With his exhortation to husbands, Paul was not upholding headship as understood by the Ephesians (or the Jewish community); he was completely turning headship on its head.*

Jesus gave himself up for us in an insane way. He made Himself nothing. He gave up everything for our sake. He submitted His life so completely that the Son of God allowed Himself to be killed by us.

How's that for a bar regarding husbands submitting to their wives?

And masters? Living with fear, trembling, and sincerity of heart toward their slaves?

I have no doubt that these concepts were absolutely antithetical to the Ephesian's understanding of wife/husband, master/slave relationships. But Paul wasn't teaching headship, anymore than he was teaching slavery. He was using them to illustrate how the body of Christ ought to live toward one another in light of how Jesus lived toward them:

"that He might sanctify her, having cleansed her by the washing of water with the word, that He might present to Himself the church in all her glory, having no spot or wrinkle or any such thing; but that she would be holy and blameless. So husbands ought also to love their own wives as their own bodies. He who loves his own wife loves himself; for no one ever hated his own flesh, but nourishes and cherishes it, just as Christ also does the church, because we are members of His body. For this reason a man shall leave his father and mother and shall be joined to his wife, and the two shall become one flesh. This mystery is great; but I am speaking with reference to Christ and the church"

Paul's main point, in all of this, was how Christ relates to all of them.

In Galatians 3:28, Paul took this concept even further when he said that in Christ, there is no distinction between male and female, let alone Jew/Gentile, master/slave. What Christ has done in each is their true identity and defines their role- be it to teach, pastor, evangelize, prophesy, or apostle... ize. According to the work of Christ in them, by whom we are all heirs to the same promise.

And after all of this there remains, in my thinking, still an even more significant argument that disagrees with the complementarian concept of male-female union:

Jesus Christ is our head.

We are all his body.

And this body is not a hydra body.

I thank God that Jesus is Aberlyn's head in the same way that He is mine.

And this is such good news, because He's perfect.

Complementarian headship seems to imply that a special dispensation of authority has been given to me on the basis of my genitalia. That somehow, in my marriage, I am a picture of Christ, and Aberlyn is a picture of the Holy Spirit.

... even though the only concept I consistently find in scripture is that we are both one with Christ by the same Spirit. Not to mention that I cannot find any biblical reference that at all implies that women are representative of the Holy Spirit in male/female relationships. Seriously, where did that come from?

There is one Lord. One Faith. One Baptism. One God and Father of all, who is over all and in all and through us all.

One body, with one head, all walking in the same Spirit.

Bearing the same fruit; that is, not manly fruit or womanly fruit, but the fruit of the Spirit.

And this entire "body" metaphor is a metaphor of unity. Of oneness. Where our role and identity have one basis:

Christ in you, the hope of glory.


*(I wrote this entire blog just for that sentence)

Relate I, On Ships.

It is important for us to keep Huey, our dog, supplied with bones.

If we do not make sure of this, with very little doubt he will lose his mind and chew on something that he knows he ought not chew on; something that he is aware he will be thoroughly shamed and chastised over, should he indeed violate that thing with his jaws (and Huey is deeply averse to shame).

This is the nature of our relationship with Huey. It requires forethought on our part, because Huey is not much for controlling himself, God love him. He's sort of binary.

Anxiety = Chew on something.
Error: Bone not found.
ENSUING PANIC = Ethan's shoes: THE ONLY HOPE

I try not to overly fault Huey for this (although I did pursue him around the house with my gnawed-upon shoe, literally making him flee the overwhelming shame). He's a dog. And our relationship is pretty typical of human-dog relationships. I don't anticipate Huey really understanding why he shouldn't chew on my shoes. I anticipate that it is my responsibility to understand Huey's needs/deficiencies, my responsibility to make this co-habitation work the way I think that it should. Because he really can't communicate with me. And I really can't communicate with him.

After all- we're different species. There are limitations.

I don't think human relationships should work this way, but I think they usually do.

In a lot of ways. With good and bad intentions.

But I think it's weird. And I think we need to stop.

There's an anticipation that communication is not going to work (also: what the hell is communication?). An anticipation that true explanation of motives/desires will result in confusion/offense/rejection, from both sides. So relationships become a guessing game, a charade, a constant tension of trying to be what I need to be, in order to get what I want to get. 

Also: give what I need to give, in order to get what I want to get.

These are all functional means of relating. It's a barter system. And if you're lucky, you barter with people who have good stuff to trade, and you personally have good stuff (affection, humor, influence, excitement, amateur-blog-writer-insight).

Definitely my game.

But the barter system just ends up as usury. Even willingly-contracted usury. Profitable business transactions, mutual usefulness.

But never love. By definition, love is not self-seeking.

No captain ever sent a ship full of goods to another nation's port, offloaded the valuables, and was like, "No charge! It's a gift!"

Or if he did, it was a gift with some sort of ulterior motive. It was to curry favor, influence, affection, preference. It wasn't just because he really loved the people at that port and wanted them to reap the benefit of his goods, even if they didn't thank or appreciate the captain. Even if they didn't appreciate the goods.

We're all captains. We all relate to one another via ships laden with cargo.

I guess the question becomes: can we afford to share our goods, freely?

Also: how?

Further: from whence do our goods come?

Not all of you have an Aberlyn. I know this. Figuring all of this out is more and less difficult, because we're interacting with different captains. And it's more and less difficult because some captains are also pirates. Or they're conniving. And by them, I also mean us.

I know we have layers, relationally. I know there is some kind of difference between what I possess (material goods, talents) and who I am (thoughts, feelings, experiences).

We're not invulnerable. Neither invincible. Our humanity puts very meaningful limits on us.

So, again: from whence do our goods come?

I do not believe there are flat answers to these questions. I ask them because I am finding they are the questions that make relationship meaningful.

I've been able to skip these questions for a long time because I've been stringing myself along with pornography and selective memory. One disconnects and numbs (so you can be whatever you want), the other reinterprets reality at will (so you can tell yourself and others whatever story sounds best).

But if you really are fully-alive (feeling and thinking), then how do you live with humans? Who gets access to you? And on what basis?

How do you approach others? Do you assume your own trustworthiness?

Do you feel obligated to assume theirs?

One Man's Limo Is Another Man's Hearse.

Let's face it. I'm not indefatigable.

The indoor soccer session ended, winter swept in, and I've settled for stretching a lot in the morning and the evening. Even while writing this, I'm taking breaks to elongate quadriceps and hamstrings (oh yes, this is going to be a REALLY interesting blog. he's already talking about his body parts!)

It's funny how the consciousness of failure so frequently holds me back. I wanted to exercise and write regularly, and to have this blog be a public chronicle of both. But once I faltered to be consistent, to come back and blog again became increasingly difficult. The Bambi post was a huge mistake- it was all stuff I'd written about before. Cute material. Extremely familiar. Stuff I did not truly mean or really care about, but I knew I could say it and that people would be willing to smile at me for it. No surprise that from that point I grew more and more distant from believing there was any real point to continuing this blog, from continuing to bring out the fledgling connection I was forging between my experience and my voice.

I imagine that it might stir a little incredulity to read that I feel disconnected from my voice. But it's true. I occasionally find myself (or something I would like to be me) in the host voices and views that I have internalized over the years (just listen to me quote movies!), but for the commanding portion of my existence I've been pretty fuzzy on personal opinions. No, not opinions. I've got LOADS of those.

I mean something that is intensely mine, from my core- not just in appearance to the outside world, but to me. To have a consistent internal narrative that truthfully reflects reality as I experience it inside the bone walls of my head.

To be who I am.

So I'll keep blogging. Maybe it'll help.

Help me, I mean. God help the rest of you.

/existentialism