Respect. The Lost American Value

He was in his twenties, had a high school diploma and no college, and was the manager of a shoe store in an aging open air mall. I was terrified of him. I worked in the strip mall and he was my manager. He was a shoe selling wizard, a company man devoted to footwear excellence. I was 17 and a senior in high school, working for $3 an hour plus commission. Every time I worked with him I was nervous.

My fear and respect of managers persisted in the years to come. After I graduated high school I worked on the loading dock at a Montgomery Ward store in Costa Mesa, California, where I found myself again intimidated, this time by the dock manager and the other workers. They were all bigger, older and stronger than me. During my brief time there I was constantly fearful that I would fall shirt and fail to meet expectations.

After I moved out of the house I worked as a box boy for a Vons supermarket in Whittier, California. The manager was a man named Tom Moore who had a perfect haircut, a full mustache and a strong personality. He had worked his way up from box boy to store manager in the company and managed several stores. He had no education beyond high school but he knew what he was doing and was good at it. I respected and feared him.

Looking back, I realize that these managers were not the type of man many would now find remarkable. They were not highly educated and did not seem to possess broad based skills. They were simply good at what they did. I did not know it at the time but I possessed more innate managerial talent and leadership potential and was probably more intelligent. They did nothing to earn my respect or to prove themselves to be my intellectual superior but I respected them all the same.

I respected them because they were in authority over me. I knew nothing about their moral character, school grade point averages, SAT scores or personal lives. They could have been terrible people outside of work. In spite of all of this, I respected them from the moment I started each job. That is how I was taught bosses were supposed to be treated.

The world has changed. Respect for position and authority has almost completely disappeared from our culture. I have seen this in my own profession. I have had my knowledge and authority questioned by job applicants and patients who knew nothing about my record of success or commitment to excellence. I have been cussed at by 10 year-olds and had my advice dismissed out of hand by millenials who believed that a semester of psychology and the ability to perform a Google search rendered them my medical equal.

The lack of respect in the current generation has not only damaged professional relationships, it has inhibited learning. While some would consider my high school educated managers to be inferior, they were not. I learned something from all of them that I could not have learned on my own. Richard, my shoe store manager, taught me how to sell, the importance of asking for help, and how to relate to others. On the loading dock I learned how to organize, pack, and move a refrigerator safely. Tom Moore taught me about business, how to manage large groups of people and the importance of improving overall company performance and not just individual work. I could write multiple pages of the lessons learned from every less educated manager for whom I worked.

Most importantly, they taught me the importance of respect and the value of submission to authority.

Bart

&%#@- Words Matter

“It was f---ing crazy!”

Foul language doesn’t usually surprise me. Over the last few decades vulgar speech has become increasingly common and can be heard in almost every setting and circumstance. This particular instance of the f-bomb caught me off guard because of the speech that had preceded it.

The F-bomber and I had just been engaged in a casual conversation at the gym. We do not know each other well but we have had a number of gym conversations, enough for us to know one another’s professions and injuries. There had also been enough passing references to faith to lead us to consider one another to be Christians. On this particular evening he had talked about his pastor and how he had been helping the pastor get in better shape.

Thirty seconds later, while talking with someone else in the gym, his speech became more colorful. I was surprised, not by the fact that he swore, but at the ease with which he transitioned from spiritual to vulgar dialogue. It was clear that he did not think word choice mattered at all.

The next morning I had a medical appointment to get my knee brace adjusted. The brace adjuster is a nice man I have seen on a number of occasions to get my custom brace sized and fitted. In the course of our session I had learned that he was active in his church, hosting a small group Bible study and serving as a camp counselor for a week each summer at a camp for troubled children. In the course of my brief visit with him he used all of the language I had heard in the gym the night before. He did so with ease and without hesitation. It was clear that this was how he talked all of the time. I drove home thinking, “When did Christians quit caring about the language they used?”

My childhood home was anything but Christian and vulgarity was common. My step-father had been a sailor and he cursed like one. Like the father in the movie “A Christmas Story” profanity was an art form to my step-dad. In spite of his foul language I grew up with a clear understanding of the difference between good words and bad words. I learned that good people used good words whenever possible.

While I may be out of touch with current social mores, my sense that there are words that should not be spoken by good people, particularly Christians, is not a belief of my own invention. The idea that there is speech unbecoming godly people was clearly described by the apostle Paul almost two thousand years ago-

“But among you there must not be even a hint of sexual immorality, or of any kind of impurity, or of greed, because these are improper for God's holy people. Nor should there be obscenity, foolish talk or coarse joking, which are out of place, but rather thanksgiving.” Eph 5:3-4 NIV

Paul makes it clear that what we say matters. Christians are to be heavenly minded people who are continually thinking of the world in the context of their faith. As people who embrace the reality that we have been saved from our sin and called to be different we should seek to be better and different in every aspect of our lives. The desire to be different and better should extend to our speech as well as our actions. True followers of Christ take His teaching that “the mouth speaks out of that which fills the heart.”

Taking Jesus’ words to heart leads to the conclusion that our words matter. When, over and over again, God calls His people to be holy, he is calling His people to be clearly distinct from the world around them. It seems this teaching that Christians need to strive for higher standards of behavior has been swept under the church carpet.

My greatest concern is not that Christians use bad words. Far more important is what the casual use of profanity represents. Too many Christians are no longer concerned with sin. Excellence is no longer a virtue or a goal. It seems that many believe it more important to display our commonality with those outside the church than it is to show our differences. We are more concerned with being “one of the guys” than we are with being “one of the chosen.”

People of faith will do well to consider Paul’s instructions in a letter to his friend and protégé Timothy to “set an example for the believers in speech, in life, in love, in faith and in purity.” 1 Tim 4:12

Bart

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Going Through Life With Blinders On

His life could be better, if he took the time to actually focus on it. Unfortunately  he was too busy to prioritize his health. He had high blood pressure and cholesterol but did not exercise or watch his diet as he should. He battled anxiety and took medication every day to keep it in check. I recommended counseling and he agreed that it would be helpful but did not see how he could fit it into his schedule.

I wondered if he had people in his life who could encourage him and help him with his priorities so I asked him about other sources of emotional and spiritual support, if he had any faith or was a member of any church. He told me he had been raised Catholic but had left the church many years before in the wake of  a scandal involving one of the parish priests. He didn't have much use for faith any more and didn't give God much thought. He was too busy going through life, doing his job, raising his children and supporting his family.

He told me that he went through life with blinders on. He figured that he was a pretty good person, that he was doing his best and that he was therefore confident that he would be okay with God, if there was one, when the time came. He didn't believe in an afterlife but thought if there was one it would be good to see bad people get what they deserved.

As he spoke I realized his words embodied the majority of American’s religious  thinking.  His theology was completely his own, an individualized belief based on personal opinion and unfounded hope. He had never tested his opinions or explored his beliefs. His worldview was convenient, comfortable and superficial. It could not withstand even superficial scrutiny, which did not matter because he never allowed it to be scrutinized. It was what he chose to believe and no one had the right to challenge it.

I tried to encourage him to think a little more deeply about life by sharing with him the observations of Ravi Zacharias, a leader in Christian thought and apologetics. Ravi says that for any worldview to be valid it must answer the four great questions of life, the questions of Origin, Meaning, Morality and Destiny.

Origin- Where did we come from? What is the source of matter, energy and life? 

Meaning- Why are we here? What is the purpose of life? What are the goals of existence?

Morality- How do we define good and evil? Why does evil exist and where does it come from? 

Destiny- What happens to us when we die?

I should not have been surprised that these questions had no impact on him. It is a lot easier to go through life pretending there are no questions than it is to search for answers. The problem he will face is that these questions do have answers, truths that exist independent of his interest or belief, truths for which all men, including him, will one day have to the give account.

His refusal to address his physical issues may result in serious harm later in life. His refusal to address spiritual issues will impact him in the life to come. 

Someday, the blinders will come off. 

- Bart 

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Lessons From Social Anxiety

I think I have the world’s strangest form of anxiety disorder. I can stand in front of hundreds of people and speak without batting an eye. On a daily basis I have intense conversations about major life issues with patients from multiple different backgrounds without a tinge of nervousness. But if I am invited to a small social event or a dinner with people I do not know well I am a nervous wreck. I get sick to my stomach before the meal even begins.

I do not often show my nerves during the actual events and my wife is the only one who can tell that I am uncomfortable. I join in the conversations, tell stories and crack jokes, all the while wondering if I have said anything inappropriate or unknowingly offensive. I typically spend the drive home rehashing the evening, spending more time wondering what other people may have thought about something I said than I do on the actual events.

I found myself reflecting on my social anxiety after a recent church event. Everyone was kind and there was not a harsh word spoken yet my customary sense of inadequacy was waiting for me in the car ride home. As I thought about my feelings I wondered if others may have similar struggles. I wondered if anyone else present had been similarly anxious.   I thought of those who had declined their invitations and not come at all and wondered if some of those who were “unable to make it” were in truth “unable to deal with it.”

I realized that I had never considered the possibility that there might be others present with similar feelings and fears. As is often the case my anxiety limits my ability to consider and respond to the feelings of others. I have always assumed that I am the only one feeling inadequate in a given situation. As I reflected on the evening I gained a new understanding of the tendency for some people to form cliques, to migrate toward those they know well and to seem to wall off those with whom they are not familiar. Actions I have often considered to be selfish and inconsiderate might actually be about emotional safety.

I wonder if there might not be two social assumption traps into which we typically fall. The first trap is the assumption that no one is like us, the second trap the assumption that everyone is like us. I have fallen victim to the error of assuming that everyone in the room is comfortable except for me, that I am the only nervous person present. I wonder if others who are comfortable may wrongly assume that everyone is as comfortable as they are and also be oblivious to those who are struggling.

I wish I could sat that I have come up with a brilliant solution to the dilemma I have identified but I can’t. The only response that seems to be appropriate is grace. I need to be more gracious in my assumptions about what others are thinking. I need to choose to believe that people are not thinking negatively. On those occasions when others do think negatively, I need to be forgiving, realizing that they may be struggling in the same way I am. I need to be gracious to those who are quiet, gracious to those who talk too much, and gracious to those who I do not understand, for we are all alike in one important way- we are all imperfect, and we all have room to grow.

- Bart

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Love and an Irrational Fear of Alcohol

I have never had a drink. I have taken a few sips to see how something tasted but I have never downed a complete beverage. Alcohol wreaked havoc on my family so I have lived my life as if I was an alcoholic. I will not drink. I have a strong aversion to it and avoid it completely to the point of irrationality.

My wife learned about my irrationality early in our marriage. We had been married only a few months when she went to the wedding of a friend. I worked Saturdays at a market and was unable to attend so she went alone. When I came home late that evening she told me about the ceremony and reception. As a part of the story she mentioned having a glass of champagne for the toast. This bothered me terribly and I did not hide the fact well (I would never make it as a poker player, my face tells all).

She asked me what the problem was, it had only been a single glass of champagne. I told her that while there was nothing wrong with anyone drinking a glass of champagne, that the image of the woman I loved with a drink in her hand was terribly upsetting to me. I knew it was silly, but it really bothered me.

Lisa hasn’t had a drink since. Not because it is wrong for her to drink and definitely not because my argument was powerful and persuasive. She decided to never have a drink because she loves me. My revulsion to alcohol is irrational and extreme, but it is real and based on real hurt from my childhood. Alcohol is nothing more than a beverage to her and she gladly set it aside to ease my pain.

I thought of this story recently in counseling a patient. He is in the process of working a 12-step program after 30 years of an alcoholic life. He has fully embraced his recovery, going to counseling and hosting meetings for those he met in rehab. While he has been doing well with sobriety his relationship with his wife has struggled. One of the areas of conflict has been the coed nature of the meetings he hosts. His wife is not comfortable with him having friendships with women, even though he does not meet with them one on one.

“So don’t have friendships with women,” I interrupted. He defended the practice and explained that he was never alone with the women and that it was all centered around recovery. He told me he had invited his wife to the meetings so she could chaperone and see that there was nothing untoward going on, but she did not want to go. He could not understand why his wife was as bothered as she was. No explanation or protestation of innocence could sway her. He felt trapped, as he felt the meetings were important but wanted to respect his wife as well.

“Don’t have women at the meetings,” I said, “Make them men only.” I told him that his wife’s fears and concerns did not have to be rational to be respected. His wife had endured decades of his alcoholism and was no doubt deeply wounded. She did not owe him an explanation and did not need to defend her position. Instead of arguing with her, he should choose an act of love by telling her, “I understand,” and changing his meetings to men only.

I shared with him the story of my wife and the wedding champagne. I explained that while my request that she not drink was irrational and absurd, my wife honored it because she could. She loved me that much. My wife did not need to be persuaded by logic or convinced by argument. She needed only to understand my heart and my fears. After a little more conversation with the patient he decided that he would honor his wife’s request. He had been selfish in his drinking for years, he could now do this one thing for her.

As he left I thought of the incredible example of love my wife has been for the last 34 years. She has accommodated so much. Raised toilet seats, cupboards and drawers NEVER closed, as well as my fears, anger and anxieties. I thought of the hundreds of failed marriages I have seen over the years and how many times a marriage might have been saved if someone had let go of “being right” and simply given in out of love.

I went home that night and told my wife that she is wonderful and amazing. Because she is.

- Bart

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