Author Archives: PearlS

what are you reading? (part one)

A man may take to drink because he feels himself to be a failure, and then fail all the more completely because he drinks. It is rather the same thing that is happening to the English language. It becomes ugly and inaccurate because our thoughts are foolish, but the slovenliness of our language makes it easier for us to have foolish thoughts.
George Orwell, “Politics and the English Language”

Yesterday was Read Across America day, formerly known as Dr. Seuss’s birthday. I like to mark it on my calendar along with Banned Books week, because, as you already know, I am into books in a big way.
Park your library book bags, because I’m about to dive into the current obsession with the offensiveness of inoffensive material and the cultural, moral backlash it is creating for our kids. Then I’ll make a list of some of the best books you could ever get your hands on. Ready?

We are currently reading aloud The Indian in the Cupboard. I only have about a year or two before my youngest child no longer wants me to read aloud. I know this because as soon as the boys figured they could read silently faster than I could outloud, they ditched me. All my best British accents (which they inform me are much too Australian–I still take it as a huge compliment) are mere inches from death if I no longer have any audience for my genius.

I skip the dialogue that begins with exclamations of “Oh hell!” by the cowboy, but I don’t skimp on Boone’s Texas drawl or the choppy, “me-talk-Indian” English-speak by Little Bear himself. Dialogue and dialect are imperative to storytelling, but a kindergartner repeating the words “oh, hell!” isn’t endearing or responsible.
A reader might feel a touch off-put by the stereotyping of characters–more so the Indian–but the fact of the matter is: kids don’t care. Kids in tune with storyline and overarching themes put themselves in the characters’ shoes and wrestle the question, is it morally okay to make a plastic toy come to life and treat him any way except humanely?

This question itself is more profound than the grownups’ question, whose primary stumbling block to the story is “me-talk-Indian” as politically incorrect.

There ought to be a non-librarian, layperson-curated list of the best read-aloud and kids’ classics because there is so much trash infiltrating the library these days. If you love your kids, you might be awfully careful in taking them to the library.
Publishers and book-buyers are a greedy lot for placing the demand of poor-quality literature above the need for well-written stories.
I’m looking at you, Dav Pilkey and Scholastic. If it isn’t intended primarily as quick-reading entertainment (notice how even the majority of nonfiction books displayed in your Scholastic book order appeal to horror, gore, or the disgusting and morose), it won’t capture the young audience, and as such, won’t make a dime. Under the banner of “make reading fun!” for non-readers (who tend to simply be story-undernourished or abandoned pre-readers) an entire market of sub-par literature has flourished.

Treading deeper, there’s a noticeable cultural push to lean heavy into normalizing gender/sex topics, mental instability (suicide, depression), political and racial tension… All pretty humanistic, biased, and hopeless stuff. In a world where the majority doesn’t want a God (if He exists) to show up and ruin all their fun, they sure publish a bunch of garbage to keep the depravity rolling.
Such books are not only inappropriate for kids, but almost unavoidable at your local library, where they love to put such nonsense face-out for kids to pick up.

This seemingly harmless handing-candy-to-babies approach to introducing soul-crushing ideology deserves a closer look. In her book, Awake, Not Woke, Noelle Mering traces this new-ish cultural phenomenon of wokeness to Karl Marx and his diabolical lust to “usurp God”. Marx postured that “ruination [could] be brought to the West through the breakdown of all sexual restraint and the abolition of the family” (Mering, 2021).

It truly is a Marxist, fascist ideology that places rebellion in the laps of infants to sow hate in their heart with the goal of producing a faux oppression that results in revolution.
Think about it, if you can train a child early on to value entertainment and crave the outrageous over relationships and moral uprightness– if you can publish material that regards authority as wicked, parents as imposters, the nuclear mother and father-based family as one mediocre option among a thousand, gender as fluid and feeling-based–you will succeed in the child viewing the safest people and places as enemy number one. 

If you think I’m exaggerating, stroll into the children’s section at your local library and take a gander at the “new books” section. Good parenting these days means placing the proper emphasis on the proper things at the proper time. Wisdom builds incrementally and it is not snatched out of the air, a product of chaos and disillusionment. A mom and dad have to lay a foundation and begin building before ideologies are introduced. What I’m saying, parent-to-parent, it this: be aware of the timing of your kids’ exposure to the world. Stack bricks from the bottom up and make sure things are solid. Don’t be hasty in explaining sex to little kids or bother emphasizing political correctness–it is beyond their grasp, and some day you’ll have to cross that bridge. For now, build trust and security and relationship. Proper emphasis, proper things, proper time–books, those wordy tomes, can help a whole lot! Improperly used, they can hurt a whole lot.

If you want children to love reading for the sake of reading, it is well worth investing in their interests and finding great stories–the earlier, the better. Over time they will begin to determine on their own what makes for wholesome, enjoyable books. They’ll be able to spot the bad ones and avoid them. With the help of a loving grownup, they’ll feel safe in sharing the good, the bad, the ugly. You will have a forever book-buddy who, once in a while, cracks open a novel and within a few pages tosses it aside and says, “Yeah, this one’s not very nice, Mom. Better return it to the library ASAP.”

Here is the general idea: begin reading little fun board books with just a few words. Do it again and again until they drag books to you and until you are dead tired of reading the words I think I can I think I can I think I can I think I can(really, Watty Piper? Wasn’t repeating it three times enough?). Make your lap the coziest, most welcoming place in the world. Then introduce them to the magic of audiobooks and readalongs. Read aloud to them chapter books–your voice in their ears. They’ll begin to think there is nothing you cannot do, once they hear you break out your mesmerizing Irish accent. You’ll have a book lover for life, I promise.

Best of all, you’ll be molding a child who has a shot at understanding and critically evaluating the world around her. She will learn to love good–and God–and see cultural imposters for what they truly are–a waste of time.

I have to break this post into two parts–stay tuned for my best booklist for kids!

you’re the reason I’ve come.

Years ago when I had a small boy learning cello, I offhandedly asked a person in charge at our church if Jubal might play a song or two in front of the congregation sometime. More than anything, he was losing his confidence in performing. I wanted him to have the opportunity to regain it, and I perceived the kindest, most encouraging audience would be at church. Where else would people come up afterward, hug him, tell him how proud they were? 

Before we had moved to Denver, we had taken the kids to nursing homes where we sang and played music on our own. The residents seemed to enjoy it and the staff even thanked us for bringing some lighthearted fun into their day. They genuinely looked forward to us returning each week. 

This time, the response I got from the fellow in charge at church was, “Sure, let me know when he has learned Amazing Grace.”

I am sure he didn’t intend to offend me by brushing me off–he simply misunderstood. He thought the usual church flow might be interrupted, and there ought to be order. He didn’t want the service to be compromised, didn’t want to shortcut prayer time or sermonizing. Didn’t want a child to be the center of attention.

 You see, the guy in charge looked at a child as somebody who could be worked into the situation, given enough practice. If the moment was opportune, if the child was prepared, if the tune was acceptable…If.
Primarily, the man in charge misjudged children.

But Jesus–more of the minimum-wage nursing home worker and oft-overlooked elderly folk-type– looked at children and said, “Get over here and climb up in my lap. You’re the reason I’ve come!” 

That’s how important kids, and child-likeness in general, are important to the kingdom.
“The kingdom of God belongs to such as these”–that’s how God places their value. They own the place.

My little girl asks me all the time to tell her more about Heaven. I tell her how wonderful it is, how every good thing is there, and no bad things. “Well,” she concludes, “dying is happy, then, if Heaven is full of only good things.” I swallow tears, because she’s right, but also because she believes it so determinedly. She won’t stand for a Heaven without a swimming pool and all the fresh strawberries and cream a person could eat.
I’ve lived a life of hardening into a person who guards my hope. “To live is Christ”–this I can lean into, and something I need to teach my kids by my attitude and actions.
“To die is gain”–this is something a child with childlike faith must remind me.

We thought about this as we were already backing away from church. We decided we should instead focus on discipling our own kids as a home church because the mainstream church was a poor substitute. The mainstream church these days tends to serve the grown-ups, the churchified–and keep them happy, a world within a world. They often pursue ventures that have very little to do with following Jesus–bigger, better buildings, higher entertainment value, engaging in bait-and-switch tactics. Feel-good, electric-charged music and speaking. Conferences. Less responsibility. More coffee.
Kids don’t make the list.

We had done the humble task of nursery care and lower-level Sunday school for years–thinking it was a noble job. But most parents always seemed more than happy to dump their kids in our care, turn on their heels and leave to go to “big” church. We were childcare, plain and simple. Sometimes accused of giving fruit gummies and juice to kids who “didn’t need the sugar”. Save for a tiny minority, they didn’t give a sniff about what we taught their children–out of sight, out of mind. And to be honest, we weren’t given a whole lot to teach them.

This alone has taken years for us to reckon as possibly un-Christlike. We were told it was our “gifting” and we should probably do it forever, seeing that the “Body” is made up of hands and feet. Shut up and do your part. And bring better snacks.
But as our kids grew into bigger kids who diligently read their own Action Bible front to back, we saw how wrong the mainstream church was in limiting children to soggy spiritual koolaid and crackers in the basement. They needed more to chew, and we couldn’t rely on the church to spackle the holes in their theology, seeing it, in itself, was full of holes.

Little do they love their little neighbors by feeding them a steady diet of truth. Little do they look at sinners–children–and, forgetting self, love them into disciples of Jesus. Little do they say, “Get over here and climb up in my lap!” or “You’re the reason I’ve come!” or “The kingdom belongs to such as these.”

We can’t afford to wait for the right church to do the right thing.

If, indeed, our struggle is not against “flesh and blood, but against principalities, against powers, against the rulers of the darkness of this world, against spiritual wickedness in high places,”–we have a lot of strength training to do.

My own kids have a front row seat to the action–they go to school everyday and witness the messed-up, foul ways of the world. (I’ll admit I despair sometimes and talk to Jesus about it regularly.) Then they come home where we’re reading through the book of Judges–”there was no king in Israel and everyone did what was right in their own eyes” (Judges 21:25)–and we are learning just how dependent we have got to be on God to fight our battles for us.

We read the stories of how cowardly the Israelites were in fighting their enemies so that God had to raise up a woman (Deborah) to lead them to victory. How Gideon took his three hundred warriors, clay jars, torches, and horns–no weapons!–and God used him to defeat the Midianites.
The spiritual application is not lost on us. In speaking of fairy tales Chesterton wrote,

[they] do not give the child the idea of the evil or the ugly; that is in the child already, because it is in the world already. Fairy tales do not give the child his first idea of bogey. What fairy tales give the child is his first clear idea of the possible defeat of bogey. The baby has known the dragon intimately ever since he had an imagination. What the fairy tale provides for him is a St. George to kill the dragon.
 (Tremendous Trifles)

And these are no fairy tales we’re reading on Sunday morning. Kids understand story, and God supplied all of Jewish history for a tender mind to digest and to point, ultimately, to a Savior who did, does, and will continue to fight our battles for us. The Word of God, when planted in the soil of a child, is living and active and grows directly around one’s heart. It helps them to grow in wisdom and maturity, just like Jesus.
This is the best thing we have ever done, if I’m being honest–to put down the things I once thought were noble and important, or what looked popular or seemed grown-up and dignified–for the kids’ sake.

We have a lot to teach each other.

Ironically, our kids are excellent musicians now–pretty advantageous in a church-at-home situation. They get center stage. My five year old twirls and belts out hymns. My seven year old beats the drums–the ones they never let him touch at church. The ten year old hits every high soprano note the rest of us can’t. My former-cellist, twelve, leads us with guitar.

Every time I hear their music, it sounds like worship.

 

Praise Him with the harp and lyre! Praise him with timbrel and dancing, praise him with the strings and pipe, praise him with the clash of cymbals!
Psalm 150

 

The blind and lame came to him at the temple, and he healed them. But when the chief priests and the teachers of the law saw the wonderful things he did and the children shouting in the temple courts, “Hosanna to the Son of David,” they were indignant.
“Do you hear what these children are saying?” they asked him.
“Yes,” replied Jesus, “have you never read, ‘From the lips of children and infants you, Lord, have called forth your praise’?”
Matthew 21:14-16

being a ‘no’ person.

Probably a year or two ago I heard about a movie that came out with Jennifer Garner in it. It was called something like the “Day of Yes”. I could probably google it right now and find out, but that would ruin my ruminating fun. Basically, the mom decides she will say ‘yes’ to whatever request her children make, and then they will have the best day ever. I’m not sure how the movie turns out, but I’d say everyone gets what they want.

I have earned, in my life, the reputation as a friend who says “no”. I know this for a fact because my friend, Megan, called me recently and pondered aloud if she should do a certain thing, take on a certain responsibility, and I told her that ‘no’ was always an option. And Megan replied, “I think that’s why I called you! I knew you would tell me ‘no’!”

I love saying ‘no’ so I can be available to a better ‘yes’.

That is very cliche, because it definitely is a cliche.

So what. It’s a good cliche!
Annie Dillard and Brenda Ueland and Heather Sellers (Page After Page) are all writers who’ve found immense value in tuning out the noise of yeses to make time for better pursuits–of course that is writing, in their case. This is specific to my own interest, and I’ve found it true–I write better when I’m not constantly consuming or running around. I say ‘no’ to loud because a quiet lifestyle helps the wheels turn.

But I’ve also observed life trickle away from people who are too busy to watch their kids grow, learn to talk, walk, eat, and bicker (and eventually get along). They’ve said ‘yes’ to a nice house and hefty car payment and childcare and subsequently said ‘no’ to playdoh on the table, a messy house, mud and music. Or they’ve said ‘yes’ to a million kid activities and teams and trips and they wonder why their kids are grouchy and attached to a cell phone. (I have a theory that cell phones have become a child’s ‘no’ to the parent who has said ‘no’ to them; “no, I won’t give you my attention because you don’t give me yours.”)

I don’t think I’ve got any superior insight here, I just know that I’m always better off when I say no. Or when a no is issued in my direction–I will take those, too. Like when a door is slammed shut in my universe and God is telling me to drop it–He did that to me a year and a half ago when I got chronic hives and couldn’t get off the couch or do anything but cry in misery. That ended whatever ‘yes’ I had forced on my family (homeschool by fist of iron).

And it ended the constant worry of what should I do? that runs circles in a mom’s head.

Here’s your heaven-sent answer: don’t do (fill-in-the-blank). 

I was talking with my mom about how interesting it is that God likes to issue us ‘no’s in the form of health crises. We have both gotten loud, reverberating ‘no’s that feels a lot like suffering but eventually leads us to greener pastures.

And still, the spirit of the world seems to high-five the gal who can work full-time, raise children, and run a marathon while on chemotherapy, raising money for her cancer foundation. (This was announced over the loudspeaker at a race I attended and made every other mom who’d ever said ‘no’ feel like a real loser. Or they felt inspired, which might be worse.)

This same spirit is alive and well in the spirit of Christians who are determined to support a cause or usher in God’s kingdom or whatever divine goal tickles their fancy. It’s a ‘yes’ that looks for windows when doors slam shut. It’s planning a million-dollar church building and praying with great faith that “God will provide the funds.” What if God never asked you to unlatch that window, but you still leaned a ladder against the wall and smashed a rock through it anyway? What is God supposed to do then so you might understand His will?

See, saying ‘no’ gives a person permission to humbly recognize their own humanity and limits. A better ‘yes’ lives inside our limited, unreliable self, believe it or not.

Why else has He “chosen the weak in this world to shame the strong”? Why else are we described as “jars of clay, to show that the surpassing power belongs to God and not to us”?

These are the people the Lord wants to use–not the window smashing, don’t-ask-permission-now-but-forgiveness-later muscle men, but the whispering ‘no’ folks who have been yearning for the right ‘yes’. 

I always felt like the clergy, pastors and ministers–made this very difficult on the youth–they’d tell us to pray to know the will of God.

I’m twenty years past being a youth, and I can say for a fact that until I opened a Bible and actually tried to read it, it did me no good to ask God to reveal His will for me.
But twenty years in and now knowing the emphasis God places on a godly marriage–I can see a ‘no’ from God when Joe and I aren’t on the same page, and we can’t go another step until we’ve resolved it.

And I know how He sets people in families, and my responsibility right now is to raise my kids (a hearty ‘yes’ from Him) and to “store up heavenly treasures, not treasures on earth,” so my social status (found in my job, appearance, car, or house) has no business factoring into the equation.

I’m reminded to not “walk in the path of the wicked, nor stand in the way of sinners, nor sit in the seat of scoffers” and so I give a ‘no’ to posting junk or reading it on social media.
This gives me plenty of ‘yes’ time for better pursuits. Still, there are instances where “do not lean on your own understanding” felt tricky and stifling. 

I will never forget the time a Bible study writer and leader approached me after church one day when I was rushing out with two crying babies. “Pearl,” she said, “we really want you to lead a Wednesday group. I know you’re busy, but this is important. It needs to be a priority in your life.“ I could feel tears welling up, and I am sure she thought she was really striking a chord with me, slathering on the conviction. But I was teary because I hadn’t slept the night before. My cheeks were wet because my babies required so much of me–here was an adult telling me I had more to offer–and I was, deep down, a ‘no’ person being asked to bust out windows. I was conflicted, confused, angry, upset.

I’ve wondered since how much I lost out on by not leading the Bible study group. But I don’t think I would’ve done a very good job at it. My husband would’ve suffered through my whining at not being able to manage it all. My kids would’ve gotten the short end of the stick. And I wouldn’t have learned all those lessons I know now that come from constant service born of love for my family. Diapers, dishes–menial, unending stuff that teaches a mom exactly the lengths God is willing to go to care for his children. I think God confirmed His ‘no’ for me in that very situation–I happened to find out I was pregnant again within months. How gently He leads those who have young ones.

Here is the real secret in knowing God’s will–he isn’t going to make you crawl out a window when he closes a door. He will open a floodgate and you’ll get whooshed out on a wave–all those little no’s rushing out in one big YES.

We like to think God puts us in hard situations and we need to overcome them to prove something. But He often makes the right thing completely obvious–the most basic, simple, down-to-earth, zero-entry option.

Blessed is the person who does not walk in the way of the wicked…who does not stand in the way of sinners…who does not sit in the seat of scoffers….
Psalm 1 has always been about the ‘no’ people, and there is proof of it in my life. I’m like a tree, planted, yielding fruit in season and my leaf doesn’t wither.
It’s given way to a wave of yeses.
Yes, I have a family who loves me and whom I love.
Yes, I have time to serve others.
Yes, I can be generous with my money.
Yes, my life is filled with spirit-fruit–joy, peace, patience, kindness, gentleness, self-control.
Yes, I’m writing about it.
Yes, I’m thankful.  

 

Numbers on a Circle: enneagram’s pitfalls

I have hesitated writing about enneagram because I think it’s taken me awhile to walk around the complete circle and examine it thoughtfully. It’s a huge can of worms to crack open–one that, if I’m being honest, I don’t care to plumb the depths because it gets pretty dark.
But it begs for attention, and I’ve been fascinated having studied it for quite some time.

A couple years ago I read The Personality Brokers: The Strange History of Myers-Briggs and the Birth of Personality Testing by Merve Emre.

I pulled it off the library bookshelf because I’d been studying homeschooling methods and one expert had recommended first finding out a child’s personality before attempting to teach them in a one-size-fits-all approach.

The idea was this: if you could understand how a child learns best, you could tailor her education to meet her goals. Therefore, if you knew your child were Introverted, iNtuitive, Thinking, and Judging (INTJ), a stay-at-home, immersive, Charlotte Mason-approach approach might be a good fit. But if you had an Extraverted, Sensing, Feeling, and Perceiving (ESFP) child, you might choose to reward finished worksheets with community acting classes.

Myers-Briggs took the world by storm. Massive businesses and schools invested in the testing materials, all sold on the tailored, fit-like-a-glove, psychoanalytic theory-turned methodology. It seemed scientific enough, yet fun enough to talk about at a dinner party.

In The Personality Brokers, the story of mother and daughter team Katherine Briggs and Isabel Myers is revealed–quirky ladies who were devout disciples of Carl Jung, committed to developing a test that might indicate and reveal deep psychological differences in people, then sold their idea door-to-door. The downright obsessiveness of these ladies is astounding, and according to Emre, the details were hidden for a good reason.

Carl Jung, the psychoanalyst they so admired, came up with individuation–an idea expressed in tapping the unconscious thoughts of patients (including, but not limited to dreams and sexual fantasies) in order to become more themselves and achieve a higher sense of satisfaction. He differed from Freud on only a few notes, but like Freud, Jung wasn’t above seducing his own patients.
Jung was the Briggs’ savior, the promise for two housewives that they might escape the doldrums and make bank by spreading a personality-identifying gospel.

Anecdotally–I am mostly intrigued how Myers-Briggs became a useful tool in the hands of Sally Clarkson, a professing Christian who wrote Educating the WholeHearted Child–the book I read recommending personality testing of children.

If Clarkson unknowingly fell into a Carl Jung trap, who is to say Enneagram won’t be equally as sticky for those of us facing it today as a “helpful” tool?

Here is how I caught the Enneagram bug: I remember sitting at my parents’ house and making my dad do an internet quiz on my phone to find out his personality type. We all sat there and laughed because it asked questions like, when confronted with a mistake, are you most likely to avoid the conversation, defend your innocence, change the topic, or confess your mistake?

He was utterly wounded when we suggested he would totally “defend innocence” while he swore he was more the type who’d confess he’d made a mistake.
I was so intrigued by this self-discovery game that I immediately spent the next few months reading all I could on Enneagram. (Diving into rabbit holes also seems to be a personality trait of my own, if you haven’t figured out by now. ha!)

Typing is fascinating because it gives us a peek into the inner world of the individual, the actual motivation behind one’s behavior. Enter Enneagram, the personality-typing method that claims to reveal inner reasoning for our thoughts, feelings, and actions. There are nine numbers, one for each “type”.
These numbers are placed in a circle, and each personality is fluid, constantly moving toward another number either in health or disintegration, flanked by “wing” numbers that add nuance and insight.
It pegs individuals with striking accuracy.

Do you disappear in conflict, secretly blame others for your malcontent, love snuggling on the couch, and hate when people interrupt you while you’re talking? Enneagram 9, wing 8, moving to the behavior of a low 6. 

You’re a rule-abiding perfectionist who can’t sit down until all the bills are paid because you live with a constant inner critic–but you’re taking the kids to the park because you have a free hour? Enneagram 1, wing 2, moving toward 7.

You are hosting Christmas because you want to be the grandma who makes the best cinnamon rolls and lives on in nostalgia forever–but you hold a secret grudge against your family when they can’t reciprocate? Enneagram 2, wing 3, moving toward 8.

See, the Enneagram is cake for folks in the market of self-help. Like Myers-Briggs, it’s logical enough to insert into practical life but fun enough to be a party game.Unlike Myers-Briggs, it gives you the key motivational factors to unlock personality mysteries and speculate one’s future.
So for a few years, I followed the carousel fun.
But I’ve since tried to exit the carousel. 


Do you know how at Sonic there are nearly 170,000 flavor combinations? Well, it turns out Enneagram doesn’t just boil down to nine handy numbers. If a person is constantly moving in a direction of a different number based on health or disintegration, with an emphasis on the stances of thinking, feeling, or doing, compounded by their self-preservation, sexual, or social instinct–are you getting weary of reading yet?

 And so, it isn’t as revealing and intuitive as we humans would like it to be. There are actually more flavors of people than Sonic slushies. (Don’t check my math, but you get the point.)
The Enneagram is one of those awful pinball machines that keeps pinging you to the next subtype, each nuance adding layers that tentatively change under each new circumstance.

Here are a few things I have noticed about the Enneagram that arouse my suspicion concerning it as a valid tool for self-help for the Christian:

The first thing to note is just how prolific Enneagram wisdom has become. This ought to be a red flag, for we are warned “be not conformed to this world” (Rom 12:2). The surest way to spot conformity to this world is to ask, is everyone else doing it? If the answer is yes, you’ve got a problem.
Enneagram teaching has filtered into big businesses and even into many churches. It is used as a method to understand individuals and, like Sally Clarkson tried with Myers-Briggs–to tailor-fit academics and employment and to maximize productivity. This is fine and good, but it begins to veer off path when it marks itself as a path to wholeness, or worse–forsakes solid scripture in favor of personality testing.
Paul pleaded with his Corinthian friends:
I am afraid that just as Eve was deceived by the serpent’s cunning, your minds may somehow be led astray from your sincere and pure devotion to Christ. (2Cor.11:3)

Here is the real concern today–that young believers will be seduced by the “cake” and miss the true meal.
One thing all personalities have in common is this: the heart is deceitful above all things, and desperately wicked. Who can understand it? (Jer.17:9)  

Do you understand what this means? It means we are forever moving in the direction of disintegration, left to our own devices. There is no self-growth apart from us becoming, like Paul says, “crucified with Christ–it is no longer I, but Christ who lives in me” (Gal. 2:20).

Enneagram “godmother,” Suzanne Stabile encourages students to “do their work” and advises everyone to “have a therapist and a spiritual guide”. Via her ministry, Life in the Trinity, she hosts workshops, sessions, and has a podcast devoted to spreading the “wisdom of the enneagram”. I listened to her show for years because she has such a soft-spoken knack for understanding people and gently peeling back the layers of their self, revealing the deeper motives for their actions. But I began to take note when she mentioned things like, “I’ve found Christians don’t have a good grasp on ‘forgiveness’”–and recommended reading Buddhist literature.
I’ve also noticed that many modern Christian-enneagram philosophers use their perceived wisdom to polish up scripture where they think it has gone errant, especially in the area of homosexuality and gender fluidity. 

These are not gurus who are spreading any kind of wisdom that parallels a life devoted to Jesus. We as believers, sheep among wolves, are to be “shrewd as serpents and innocent as doves” (Matt.10:16)–so ask yourself thoughtfully, have I let enneagram take the place of God’s word?

One pillar the enneagram experts (and Carl Jung and Freud) love to erect is the idea that we were fundamentally damaged as children. Surely you’ve heard parents joke many times over the past few years, “my kids are gonna need therapy for this someday!” It is one of the most pathetic phrases I think I’ve ever heard uttered, both for the parent who is excusing their poor behavior and the child who is learning their mom and dad won’t take responsibility for their actions. But enneagram loves to dig into the superego.

How was I damaged in childhood? Is the bread and butter of the enneagram. It identifies a core hurt as a kid that is now viewed from a victim’s perspective as an adult and validated by the adult as a gaping wound. The perception we’ve attached, year after year, to a childhood incident or so-called trauma grows exponentially worse as the years go on, and we rely on nothing but memory to serve as witness. It could be nothing more than a nitpicking father or a slobby mother, but the way the grown child has attached it to their self-worth could be the difference between brokenness and wholeness (I am exaggerating, but enneagram does not). This forms an individual’s core number on the enneagram circle, so it is crucial to the self-discovery of the learner. However, how was I damaged in childhood?  is the wrong question. 

We should rather ask, who was I as a child? This question puts the whole person in context, from the perspective of a mature adult of the self as a child, with an open-ended, logical conclusion. For instance, I know my father as an adult now. I no longer see him as the Dad he was when I was a child, because I have grown up and out of that sized version of me. Scripture corroborates this: when I was a child, I spoke as a child, I thought like a child, I reasoned like a child. But when I grew up, I put away childish things. (1Cor.13:11)

Without doubt, we are damaged humans, but not more so because of someone else (I am not speaking of incidental abuse, physical or mental). It is because we are fundamentally sinners from birth. Searching for greater meaning through finding fault in how we were raised is humanistic at best and nihilistic at worst. Where is the hope for us as parents if parents are the root cause for our grown children’s despair?
Let’s not poke that lion over and over.

Finally, the enneagram and other personality typing systems fool us into believing we’ve bitten the sacred fruit–knowledge of good and evil–and that we’ve gained superior wisdom. 

We ought to be a little scared if, by applying the “sacred wisdom of the enneagram”, we think we can understand and solve the issues in the world around us or in the people we love. But I’ve noticed we do exactly that–and proudly! There are entire social media accounts and youtube channels devoted to meshing godly wisdom and enneagram wisdom. This is truly something we need to evaluate more critically.
Paul distinguishes how we as Jesus-followers are to think versus how the world thinks:
The natural person does not accept the things that come from the Spirit of God. It sounds foolish to them and they can’t understand it, for spiritual things can only be discerned by the Spirit. (1Cor. 2:14)

I’ll be the one to say it: pray for discernment before opening the next enneagram book or listening to the next podcast. Are you accepting the things that come from the Spirit of God or does it sound like foolishness to you? (God has laid out quite the personality test of His own!)

Personality typing is still personality typing, a means to an end. While it could be argued it is for self-understanding, it is equally a pro-manipulation tool, of which we should be wary. It is flesh-wisdom, not Spirit-wisdom. Personally, I have found this enneagram fruit sweet but entirely unsatisfying. I say it because I know my enneagram number, studied it completely, and it has sort of become a thorn in my side. What was once a party game has paved an unfortunate path in my mind, where I trace all my motivation and energy. I let my “five-ness” excuse my bad habits and poor behavior on occasion. Sometimes enneagram “wisdom” pops into my head and I find I have to chase it away with God’s word. To my shame, I could carry on a very enlightened conversation about any number, stance, and instinct–but I do not know much of God’s word by heart.
I wish I’d never opened the Enneagram can o’ worms, because they’re hard to finagle back into the can.

We were having an interesting discussion, my kids and I, about the UFO that Nasa’s had its eye on for awhile. The object has been emitting flashes of light from a thousand light years away at a steady pace. Scientists have raised the question to the religious crowd: How would you feel about extraterrestrial beings trying to contact earth?

We discussed the science-fiction elements of it, then we came to a higher, bigger thought: What if God himself were trying to get in contact with us?!
And the most interesting answer settled into our lap: He is.

God, The God, He is in contact with us. Not Karl Jung. No door-knocking moms selling us a personality test. No need for numbers on a circle or inner work, or therapists. No self-help books or “godmothers” of theology.
God himself, revealed in His Word and throughout history. We are invited to “ask and it will be given to you; seek and you will find; knock and the door will be opened to you. For everyone who asks receives; he who seeks finds; and to him who knocks, the door will be opened” (Matt.7:7-8).

Where are you knocking?

 

Impressive resumes.

I’ll tell you, nothing quite starts a day off like a kid puking the night before. Because it is too early the next morning when you bleach the toilet and sink to rid it of the puke germs. And then, only then, do you drink your coffee before returning to the bathroom. Accordingly, the day should resume successful–unless you are me and your fancy electric toothbrush is identical to aforementioned puker’s toothbrush. If you are unlucky and/or absentminded, you will not notice said puker has left his toothbrush next to your own on the bathroom sink, thoughtfully charging it on your identical charger, and you might brush your teeth with the puker’s own toothbrush.

I’m waiting to feel bad but it hasn’t happened yet. In the meanwhile I have enrolled in a program to obtain a teaching certificate. I’m overly confident in the essay testing portion, as only a writer can be. (Is “be” a preposition? No, I don’t think so. See, one ought not be so cocky. I don’t even know what a preposition is or amounts to–there, now I think I’ve done it.)

I’m equally confident in the teaching arena. It is the multiple-choice questions that I over-think. Grownups who make paychecks should be exempt from silly tests in lieu of practicum. Or even if they don’t make paychecks–a mom who is at home shouldn’t have to waiver between a)wipes, b)diaper, c)rash cream, and d)powder, but it might cause her to second-guess herself if she’s offered all four and can only choose one as less than necessary. Some days you need the Desitin. Some babies aren’t roll-y enough to require powder. In a car on a road trip I’ve been caught wipe-less and diaper-less and found a way to MacGyver my way to success (though the details escape me, much like I hope the toothbrush incident does, eventually).

The teaching certificate is to come in handy should our local public school need me to fill a more permanent, qualified position. It hasn’t happened yet, but a few rules are changing in our state regarding teaching, so I’m trying to stay ahead of the game. I also keep at the back of my mind this morbid (or practical) idea that should something bad ever happen to our main breadwinner (not me), I will have a backup plan. I’ve never actually had a backup plan career before, but it seems like the responsible thing to do.

So I am also contemplating putting together a job resume, one that will be woefully short, since stay-at-home mothers don’t get to list their work as professional. No one wants to hear it–people who pay money don’t want to hear about your nightly forays into the bathroom to assist puking children. They don’t think it counts as professional experience. This is why stay-at-homers also feel the ridiculous pressure to somehow keep a foot in the professional world while attempting to feed babies in the middle of the night. This is why it takes Jesus himself to assure us that yielding our “relevance” in the world for the sake of a child is an okay–nay, holy–thing to do.

He chooses the weak things to shame the wise, so my resume is bound to impress Him, if no one else in this world.

I will also say this, having substitute-taught: the professional world has indeed forgotten what children are, because they are often treated as miniature adults. They are adults-in-the-making, future world-shakers. But they are sponges right now, which seems like a logical, child psychology kind of thing to know. They are not supposed to be adults and therefore ought not handle many things, including extended screen-time and limited outside play-time, self-monitoring cell phone usage. Exposure to extrafamilial ideologies is mind-bending–so what makes us think it’s healthy to introduce a thousand alternatives? My instinct is that people used to know this, but now they do not. A child’s mind is not fully developed. Who are the experts here, if not parents who recognize it?

Kids aren’t ready for mature content, and I don’t mean explicit language. They are not ready for adult life. Would you put a hammer in their hand and expect them to build a house, even if they wanted to? Of course not–at the very least you would wait till they’re strong enough to hold a hammer. Then you might send them to trade school for some lessons. What I’m trying to say is we have little patience for children to be children. We want to drop a seed in the ground and see a flower in bloom, but this is not how growth happens. Growth happens when we water and weed and prune back and wait on seasons.

We can’t feed them hours of screen time and shrug it off as nothing when it’s making new neuro-pathways in their brains and replacing healthy, respectful behavior and activities. We can’t circle the topics of suicide and bullying and stranger danger and drugs every year and assume they get it because we’ve had the “hard conversation”. The truth is, suicide and bullying are unthinkable. A child can’t comprehend the kind of despair that lives in the heart of man. Racism and sexual vulgarities–these are not part of one’s vocabulary unless an adult put it there in the first place. And so it goes, intentional misguidance by grown-ups dressed up as responsibility, when actually the grown-ups are just too impatient to water and care for our precious seedlings.

And I guess this is why parents need to excel at their job all the more, even if it sometimes feels like it just amounts to sitting in the dark, waiting to clean the toilet. You are actually a behavior scientist, loving littles and studying everything about them. Your resume won’t sing, but your expertise is solid. This is what makes a good teacher, I think. But we will see if the multiple choice test agrees.