Why is Church Cliquey?

Why is church cliquey? I suppose I have a few theories about this--and I'm not just talking about my own church--reports have come in from far and wide about the cliquey nature of church, primarily from people my own age. Specifically, what makes the church foyer such an awkward place for new people? Why does it seem difficult to "break in"--to a conversation, a circle, a tight-knit social group?

Some theories: 

Theory 1: We respect your right to disengage more than we value your desire to be engaged.

Theory 2: The rise of irony makes it difficult to express sincere, unabashed interest in something or someone.

Theory 3: Church is "home" and we want to talk to our "family." 

Theory 4: Church is a series of loosely connected social circles. Maybe you're new, or maybe you just belong to one of the other social circles. Either way, I don't know you and I probably won't talk to you unless our circles intersect.

Theory 5: In LA especially, it seems like everyone wants something from you--sex, a date, a pitch meeting, a job, the secret of how you got your hair to do that crazy poof thing. Or they don't, in which case, why are they talking to you again?

What does the opposite of cliquey look like? I'm not sure, but I can hazard a guess, or rather, an experience: Black churches. I can remember going to one or several with family when we were visiting from out-of-state. To say that we were welcomed with open arms (literally) would be an understatement. We were "loved on." Hugged. Called "sister" or "brother."

My own history with church cliqueness is complicated. I was the awkward kid at the church party. Scratch that, I still am the awkward kid at the church party. 

When I was 9 and attending grade school in China, of course I didn't fit in. I was American, a foreigner, a lao wai. When I was 12 and started going to my international church's youth group, of course I didn't fit in. Most of the kids were older and "cooler." When I was 15 and we moved back to the states and I started going to youth group there, of course I didn't fit in. I was still reeling from the move and my parents' divorce, still adjusting to a new (old) country.

Whatever it is that makes fitting into social groups effortless (or at least non-awkward) never clicked for me.

I've blamed other people. I've blamed church for being cliquey, when the only thing I had to blame was my own lack of social skills. Blessed are the awkward, for they shall inherit all of the spinach dip.

"[T]he foreigner excludes before being excluded, even more than [s]he is being excluded."

-Kristeva

I'm not claiming that church is not cliquey. I'm not claiming that people aren't excluded, whether intentionally or unintentionally.

If you think that church is cliquey, if you feel excluded, judged, put down, ignored, insignificant--I'm sorry. If you've stopped going to church because you feel like you don't fit in--I'm sorry too. But one thing I've learned is that as much as I try, I can't separate my relationship with God from my relationship with other people. I can't love God and hate his church. I can't pursue God and cut off my brother, my sister. I can't harbor resentment and bitterness in my heart and claim that it's all okay, because God and I are okay.

I'm not saying you should attend a church that spiritually abuses you. I'm not saying you need to reconcile with those who excluded or ignored you. I'm not saying you need to agree with everything a church teaches. I'm saying, in a deeper sense, there is no in-crowd.

Whatever the point of hurt is, whatever the wound--it matters to God. For me, that would be feeling like the church doesn't care about my gifts and talents. It might be different for you. But don't give up. Be awkward. But don't be a stranger.

I attended a church-related holiday function alone recently, and as I told my friends, "I'm worried it will be awkward." The party promised to feature such cringe-worthy activities as "singing Christmas carols" and "eating white chocolate popcorn." But, impending awkwardness be damned, I went anyway, fruit tart in hand. And guess what? I was the awkward one (I know. I was surprised too).

I got there, promptly ignored the host when he introduced himself to me, in my nervousness drank large quantities of what turned out to be not-ice-tea, and generally faux-pas-ed it up in admirable fashion. And I had a great time. People went out of their way to make me feel welcome. When asked by one guy I had just met how I knew the people at the party, I replied, "I don't really know anyone here."

He said, "You know me."




Want more?

Why is church cliquey? Part 2
Why is church cliquey? Part 3
Why is church cliquey? Part 4
Why is church cliquey? Part 5

Nihilism, Ambition, and Minor Revelations

I recently spent some time at my mom's house going through all my stuff in the garage. In the process, I had a few minor revelations--let's call them "Thoughts upon going through all my crap."

Minor Revelation #1 - Taking Latin was unnecessary. As was taking trig, calculus, Bible Literature, European Civilization 1...

I've already mentioned my penchant for academic masochism. And I took a lot of classes. A lot. Like way, way more credits than I needed to take.

I don't regret any of the unnecessary classes I took though (actually, scratch that, I regret taking chemistry). There's something so hopeful about registering for a new semester. I miss that part of college. I miss learning for the sake of learning.

Now explain to me why I kept all of my trig homework...

Minor Revelation #2 - I spent a lot time researching things.

I don't even want to talk about how much time I spent researching what college to go to, leafing through those glossy brochures with pictures of attractive undergraduates spread out like lawn ornaments. I think the hypotheticals themselves were compelling. It's fun to dream about the future. However, my life has been a lot of theory, not as much action. The research has to end eventually. Right? Eventually, you have to make a choice. Choose a college. A career. A city.

It's no coincidence that one of my resolutions for 2012 was to "Think less."

Minor Revelation #2.5 - The direct correlation between my attachement to an object and my affection for the person or experience with whom/which the object is associated

Minor Revelation #3 - I wrote/write a lot. A lot.

I mean, dear God, if there was a margin to be spared on an index card, pamphlet, or receipt, I wrote in that margin, dammit. I scribbled down shreds of profundity and banality--okay, mostly banality.

I guess this isn't much of a revelation. I write. It's what I do. Now, if only I had confined my writing to logical places, like journals and notebooks. Sometimes you just need something to write on.

Minor Revelation #4 - If there was something I was even remotely interested in, I went after it 100%.

I was extremely ambitious in my teens (not that my work ethic always cooperated). Where any rational, sane person might have been like, "Hey, maybe flying to Tahiti to build an ice cream factory isn't such a good idea," I was like, "Sign me up!" I had quite a few terrible ideas. Thankfully, not all the things I pursued panned out.

Sometimes it's not the thing itself (say, video production) that's the misdirection. Sometimes, you are simply incompatible with the people or the organization. I hate to say it, but you really do have to be in the right place at the right time. Perhaps the world is not yet ready for your genius. Or more likely, you still have some growing up to do. Right place. Right time. Right person (that would be you).

There I go, giving advice again. I need to write about another career myth--the myth of experience, or how do you figure out what you want to do when you grow up? I'll tell ya what you don't do--base your entire career on a single negative or positive experience.

Again, I don't regret being overly, scarily ambitious during my high school years. I did a lot of worthwhile things, however,

Minor Revelation #5 - Everything is meaningless.

"Yet when I surveyed all that my hands had done

    and what I had toiled to achieve,

everything was meaningless, a chasing after the wind;

    nothing was gained under the sun."

[Ecc. 2:11]

Sifting through years worth of stuff--keeping the best of it and tossing the rest--I was reminded of Ecclesiastes' famous existentialism.

I spent a lot of time thinking and/or worrying about things that I could not care less about now (I'm looking at you, Homeschooling).

Likewise, things that seem to matter now probably won't matter at all at some future date. We can all relate to the thought that "everything is meaningless, a chasing after the wind." Pleasure. Wisdom. Accomplishments. Great hair. The perfect body.

People. I believe that people matter. And despite the meaninglessness of accomplishments, I still feel compelled to offer something to the world, however small, insignificant and temporal.

I still have to figure out how to live this life.

Career Myths, or Do What You Like

I recently ran across an essay by Paul Graham entitled How to Do What You Love. It's a good essay; I would recommend it.

Anyway, it got me thinking (imagine that) about certain fallacies--namely, how incorrect beliefs about work keep people from choosing the right career.

It seems like stupidly simple advice, but if anything I would tell a hypothetical someone--me, in my near past perhaps--to "Find something you like." There's an even stupider reason for this advice. Namely I find it extremely difficult, nay, damn near impossible to do things I don't want to do. Even if I need to do them. Even if I should do them. Even if for the love of all things bright, shiny, and wonderful I should want to do them.

Let me introduce you to my good friend, self-deception.

Maybe you can avoid my fate--by challenging these three myths:

The Myth of Pain

In college, I lived implicitly by the tenets of academic masochism: taking 24 units a semester, signing up for that 8:00 AM Trig class, pulling all-nighters every time I had a paper due, you name it. I took a class on non-Shakespearean Renaissance literature my senior year because I wanted to, not because I had to (yeah, I was one of THOSE people).

Somewhere along the way, I got the idea that pain = me becoming a better person. I think in my head I had this (false) image of perfect me. Perfect Me was not only smart, but disciplined. She studied diligently for each class. She never procrastinated. She got straight As.

In reality, I was a terrible procrastinator, never studied as much as I should have, and never got perfect grades.

Perfect Me? Yeah, she never existed. And she never will.

But strangely, it's hard to let that image die. More specifically, it's hard to let go of the belief that if I just do these (good) things, if I just go through this pain, I'll become who I want to be.

The myth of pain taught me that if I wasn't having fun, I just needed to knuckle down and try harder.

Yes, suffering can be good for you, but suffering can also be unnecessary. Do what you like. How do you know if you like it? You don't put off doing it. You look forward to it. No one's holding a gun (or paycheck) to your head.

The Myth of Talent

There's the line of thinking that goes, figure out what you're good at, and go do that.

This is terrible advice.

First of all, there's no future in updating your facebook status every hour and second of all, you could be good at doing something you hate.

Being good at something can create a false sense of responsibility: "I'm a good basket-weaver, so if I don't pursue basket-weaving I'm depriving the world of my talent."

Poppycock. Chances are you are good at more than one thing.

But, you major in engineering because you're good at math and science. Or you get a job at Starbucks because you pull a mean expresso. Or your mom always told you you were good with words so you go to law school.

And now, you hate your job.

There's another way this plays out: you're good at X. People notice you're good at X. You get a promotion/raise/contract to do X. You get all the perks that go with doing X well: approval/recognition/appreciation. People start asking you to do X in your free time. You say yes, because oh my gosh, someone needs me! Over time, you start to become resentful of X. You feel used. Dissatisfied. Drained.

Talent does not equal calling.

Do what you like. How do you know if you like it? You're willing to make an ass out of yourself doing it. You're willing to go through that awkward stage where you have no idea what you're doing. You're willing to suck.

The Myth of Altruism

So you wanna change the world? You want to be a social worker, a missionary, a caretaker.

These are all wonderful jobs. However, they may not be the right jobs for you.

Dr. A.J. Drenth has a take on this as it relates to the INTP personality type (that would be me):

"This desire for affirmation and validation may cause INTPs to overlook good career options because, on the surface, such careers seem too far removed from the source of their desired validation: people. So rather than choosing a career in science, for instance, INTPs may opt for what amounts to a “quick fix” for their inferior and select a people-oriented career, such as healthcare or human services. While at first blush, such people-oriented careers may “feel right” to INTPs (or more specifically, to their inferior function), it is rarely long before they realize that this is not the case. INTPs are better off with a career that allows them to use their top two functions (Ti and Ne) to help others (Fe) in a less direct fashion."

To put it briefly, INTPs don't do well in high-contact careers.

The myth of altruism says, I want to help people, therefore I need to help them in the most direct way possible--otherwise, it doesn't count. 

Have you ever felt secretly guilty that you don't want to be a missionary? Or live in the inner-city? Or scrub floors at a health clinic? 

It's okay. You would be terrible at it anyway. 

Do what you like. How do you know you like it? You're not operating out of a sense of guilt or obligation. Your sense of empathy is not exhausted. You still like people.

Tune in next time for a quiz!

Shame, Expectations and Unnecessary Suffering

I was on the verge of tears--not at sad news though. At happy news, good news, welcome news. These, however, were not happy tears, I'm dismayed to report. These were more like tears of frustration--frustration over unnecessary suffering.

I'm sure none of you were ever like this, but as a child, I was fully capable of making myself unhappy--of denying myself good things like forgiveness, hugs, even pastry, because I was determined to be miserable, no matter what. There's a pride of grief, of unhappiness, of cutting off your nose to spite your face, because it's MY nose dammit, and I'll do what I please with it. Let the noseless rejoice in their sweet, if unsavory, suffering. 

Of course as an adult, my suffering is much more refined now, if still as unnecessary as ever. For one, there's procrastination, which many agree is a fine, even dignified form of suffering. You suffer, you suffer, you get the work done--and then the suffering ends, and you're left with nothing but emptiness where the suffering once was. 

Then there's the suffering of extremes, the rushing from one pole to the other in a frenzy of self-abnegation. Pick a personal fault, any fault. Perhaps you are prideful, insensitive, egotistical--sometimes. Generalize this fault into an all-encompassing final word on the nature of your basic character. You are arrogance itself. Criminally insensitive to other people. You are flawed to the core, and somehow, it feels so right to be so wrong. Tears. Abasement before God and perhaps other people. It all makes sense now. And this suffering will save you from yourself. 

And let's not forget the suffering of standards and expectations, your own and others', that you will never be able to live up to. Ever. The kind of things where you fail before you even start. Where you can never make him or her happy, no matter how hard you try. And even if you make that grade, get into that school, land that job, they will never be proud of you. And even if they were, it still wouldn't be enough. The kind of standards where you're tempted to say, screw it. Forget it. I won't even try. But even then, the bitterness rises up inside of you. And you suffer. 

And what about the suffering of miscommunication. Missed communication. Message not received. This one, perhaps, eats me up most of all. You spoke, but I was not listening. But I heard you say--But you never said--And I never bothered to ask--Because to ask, for clarification, for reassurance, for love, is to admit vulnerability. To admit that I need you. That I need. All that I wanted was there for the taking. I had only to ask. But I did not ask because I did not want you to know how much I wanted to ask. I would not risk even that one moment of vulnerability, because I would rather you see me as self-contained and complete, needing nothing, no one. 

Which brings me to the suffering of self-sufficiency. Some people, and I don't admit to knowing anyone like this, would much rather suffer than ask for help. Would much rather risk isolation than rejection. Let's be real here. There are certain types of martyrdom that are very highly regarded in our society, the most socially accepted of them all probably being martyrdom for your job, your career, your art. My art is my life, you say. Nonsense. You are not a paintbrush. Your life is your life. No one, not even God, is asking you to suffer for art. 

That's the problem with suffering though. It can feel so good. So noble. Soul-cleansing even. It's like eating vegetables--this tastes so bad it must be good for me. 

But is it necessary?




Sources of inspiration:

http://peterrollins.net/?p=3739
The story of Hannah as heard at http://www.churchinhollywood.com/#/sundays/podcasts