What Victoria Osteen taught me about being the Elder Son

Earlier this week a video of Victoria Osteen started circulating on the interwebs. In this video she encourages her congregation 'to realize when we obey God, we're not doing it for God - I mean, that's one way to look at it - we're doing it for ourselves, because God takes pleasure when we're happy.'

To start, the word 'happy' in the English vocabulary has more meanings to more people than many other words. But that's not my point. 

What caught me this week was the reactivity many of us had to her statement. In all honesty, I chuckled at the Bill Cosby retort video. I felt a little critical towards what I perceived as her fallacy, particularly in the second part of her recorded statement where she tells her congregation to 'Just do good for your own self. Do good because God wants you to be happy. When you come to church, when you worship Him, you're not doing it for God really. You're doing it for yourself, because that's what makes God happy.' It's easy to judge this statement, particularly when it's spoken in such a soft and tinny tone. Yet, I think she's speaking to reality here. Most of us 'worship' God for ourselves in order to get something from Him; in her case she seems to be after pleasure, comfort and success. 

After chewing on this for a minute it began to dawn on me that I've been doing much of the same thing, just in an opposite way. Her appeal to 'do good for yourself' is not that far removed from my normal line of thinking/acting, which is something to the effect that God is most happy with me when I have the most orthodox doctrine or provide the best service for Him. In the past I fervently pursued these things with the hope of satisfying God so that I could finally get what I want - His approval.

Welcome the Elder Son to the party.

These two seemingly dichotomous pursuits are really one in the same. In Luke 15 Jesus frames this same issue for those listening. On one end we are introduced to the younger son who pursues his happiness through the attainment of that which makes him happy, namely success in a foreign land, fine clothes, a good vocation, lots of friends and sex. On the other end of the spectrum we are shown the elder son, who pursues his happiness through the attainment of that which makes him happy, namely the approval of his father, getting things right, hard work and discipline, not straying far from the orthodox way of living. It seems this paradigm is still hitting close to home. 

I may not agree with Mrs. Osteen, but I'm starting to see that I'm no better off. In fact, I may be in a more dire position. After all, the younger son came home from his pursuit of happiness to find a fathers running embrace, while the elder son stood resentfully outside the party, turning a deaf ear to his fathers pleas. Jesus seems to be insistent that the father wants both of his boys to come home and be sons, not dutifully seeking his affirmation (everything the dad has is his already anyway), nor taking and leaving (at home is where there is identity, safety and life to the full). 

So while we cast stones at Mrs. Osteen, let's first check our own hearts. Here are a few questions that helped provoke some clarity of heart and mind for me.

-What am I hoping my actions towards God will provide me?

-Why am I offended by someone who seeks God through pleasure? Is it because I think I've been dutifully serving and am the one deserving the honor of the bounty of the banquet table?

-What do I really think makes God most happy with me? Is it my actions, doctrinal purity, love for neighbor, service, happiness with self?

Whether you're like the elder or younger son, remember the pleading of the father, "My son...you are always with me, and everything I have is yours. But we had to celebrate and be glad (happy?), because this brother of yours was dead and is alive again; he was lost and is found." Luke 15:31-32

There but for Grace - My Sadness at Robins' Loss

This week I find myself deeply saddened. The kind of sadness that pulls on your ribcage and gets stuck in your throat. It’s a culmination of things I’m sure, but in large part flowing from the suicide of Robin Williams.

I have been trying to comes to terms with this incident which seems to have opened some deep well of conflicting thoughts within me. I wrote it off at first, calling it mere sentimentality. After all, am I not just selfishly upset that the man who seemed to be the funny uncle of my childhood would no longer entertain me?  Yet it didn't fade, and as it clung to my chest I began to pay more attention. Why am I so sad about a man I didn't really know? Is it the larger problem of the sadness of being human, wherein we all wrestle with a multitude of pains, run away in a thousand different ways? At least in some part yes it is. To see the brokenness of humanity day after day does weigh heavy, and every once in a while breaks the surface erupting in tears and melancholy. Yet that’s not the end of it, this answer merely scratches the itch.

I continued to try and make sense of it by reading others’ responses to his death. In reading I've been outraged, confused, saddened, bewildered and a hundred other forms of grief. We all seem to grab onto one piece of grief, as is the way of grief, and claim it as the answer. (This is in no doubt what I am doing right now). Some folks have focused on his ‘choice’ of suicide and the grief and guilt it left for his family. Some have centered on the darkness of depression. Others still have looked at the disease of addiction. In each case I’ve found myself offended, which typically happens when reading another’s explanation of reality as they see it. As I understand it, truth, no matter how small the grain of it, tends to upset me. When looking at addiction, depression and suicide I am deeply offended because I am deeply impacted by the central truth of each - I am capable of each one.

Spending some time alone and quiet this morning the dawn began to break. Light was shed on my grief, giving it form and helping me recognize its substance. In a sort of ‘A-Ha’ moment it made sense. The reason Mr. Williams suicide struck me so acutely was simply this, ‘There but for the grace of God go I.’

Some time ago I was on a retreat, spending some time in connected community as well as in contemplative solitude. I had a similar dawn break for me at that time, shedding light on my internal insanity. At one point I was sitting on the side of a mountain, the sheer weight and grandiosity putting me in my place as the small and fragile man that I am. I was broken by the thought that if something didn’t change I was going to go crazy and die – be it emotional, spiritual or physical death I didn’t know. The sheer weight of holding it all together was too much, my false and true selves were far too disassociated from one another. The suicidal panic which told me everyone would be better off without me was becoming too frequent and loud. I needed help and fortunately found it in a fellowship of men and women who call themselves alcoholic.

Reports say Mr. Williams did the same recently, turning back to a 12-Step program to try and have a reprieve to his addiction (ie - insane thinking). Yet it won. That’s the thing with addict thinking, it’s not satisfied until you are dead, because as addict thinking goes, death is the ultimate solution. Which is another crazy thing about addiction- be it drugs, sex, alcohol, work, etc.- the problem substance or behavior isn't the problem at all. In fact, it’s your solution – albeit a false one.

So what made me get sober and find a new way of life when Robin didn't? Simply put, ‘There but for the grace of God go I.’ This cliche has been spoken in every room of AA at some point. Honestly, this scares the hell out of me. The real reality is that I am completely powerless in this life to change myself or those things around me, yet I’m completely responsible to do so. This dilemma then leads me to need a power outside of myself to do for me what I cannot do. As I understand this power to be God, I am now completely dependent on God to give me what I need, even when I don’t see my need for it, and if he doesn't, well then...I'm toast. I need someone I don't really trust to consistently take care of me, whether I want it or not. The craziest thing is that He does. I cannot comprehend this mystery.

The grief that strikes me this morning is that I was given this gift when another was not. I don’t know what to do with that. It begs at a thousand deep and offensive questions. Yet, I know it’s true. I need God to do for me what I cannot do for myself, as did Mr. Williams, as do a thousand alcoholics, and as do you. So I’m sad, deeply saddened that Mr. Williams didn’t get sober in mind and body, and that the insanity of addiction took over. I’m also sobered by the thought that had God not done for me what I couldn’t do for myself I’d have eventually followed in Robin’s footsteps.