Being Sick

I’ve been under the weather for a little while, and it’s left me with time to reflect on what being sick really means. This is what I came up with.

Being sick means discomfort, the aches and pains that let you know something’s wrong. It means disruption of the routine that you cherish so dearly. It means disability that, though temporary and relatively mild, keeps you from doing what you want to do, maybe even what you need to do.

Being sick means frustration with the circumstances and how slowly they seem to change. It means deprivation of some of your favorite things: running outside, dancing to music, creating beautiful things. Worse, it means separation from those you care about the most.

Being sick means suffering, sometimes so intense that you can’t see any light at the end of the tunnel. It means pleading for the pain to end, for the fever to break, for the symptoms to go away. It means waiting, spending countless hours lying awake wondering how much longer you can possibly take this before you finally break once and for all.

Being sick means confusion: “Why is this happening to me?” “Am I feeling better or just numb to the pain?” “When is it safe to start acting normal again?” It means impatience, a desire to get back to life the second you start to feel even the slightest bit better. It means self-sabotage, pushing yourself too hard too quickly and inevitably making yourself feel worse than before.

Being sick means sorrow when the illness breaks your will and you begin to mourn the life you once had. It means appreciation for how good you felt when you were healthy, even though you never realized it at the time. It means sympathy for those who live with illness every day and don’t get the privilege of looking forward to health as you do.

Eventually, being sick means relief when the fever breaks, the pain subsides, and you finally begin to feel alive again. It means return to life as it was, maybe at a slightly faster pace to catch up on all that you missed. And it means remembering, committing to never again take your health for granted.

Though, to be honest, you probably will; that is, until you once again feel a tickle in your throat or a knot in your stomach. And then you’ll restart the process and experience again what it means being sick.

The Hate U Give

A story is a powerful thing. I’ve read the studies about racial discrimination and its tragic effects in the past, and they have formed me intellectually. Over the past several years, I’ve accumulated knowledge in an attempt to become informed about the unique struggles of black people in America today. But information can only go so far, and none of that information impacted me as deeply as the story of Starr in The Hate U Give.

The Hate U Give is a young adult novel, the first by author Angie Thomas. The title is based on a Tupac quote that, while insightful, is too explicit to repeat in this article. (Of course, no one is stopping you from looking it up yourself.) After witnessing the string of deaths of black men at the hands of law enforcement in recent history and the public discourse surrounding these incidents, Thomas was inspired to write a story about these kinds of tragedies from an African American perspective.

The book follows Starr, a 16-year-old girl growing up in a poverty-stricken urban neighborhood. As you might expect based on the setting, Starr has had more than her fair share of struggle. A father in prison during the formative years of her life. A childhood best friend killed in a drive-by. And more. But she also experiences a certain amount of privilege, attending an upper-scale private school instead of the neighborhood public school. This duality of experience causes a great deal of cognitive dissonance for Starr, a conflict that comes up a lot in the book.

All of this come to a head one night when she unwittingly becomes the witness of a police shooting. And not just any police shooting, but the killing of her friend at the hand of a white police officer. This is the inciting incident of the story, and the book details the impact of this tragedy on Starr’s development as well as her experience serving as the sole witness to the incident and trying to get justice for her friend.

Though police brutality is the central issue that plays out throughout the book, The Hate U Give touches on so many other aspects of the black experience as well, including safety concerns in poor neighborhoods, the reasons why crime rates are higher among the African American population than others, and the conflict one feels between self-improvement and investing in one's community. The most enlightening issue for me was Starr’s experience of code-switching, feeling compelled to act one way in her black neighborhood and another way at her predominantly white school.

But Starr isn’t just reduced to a stereotype for the sake of some agenda. She’s a dynamic, full-fledged character who learns, grows, and changes throughout the book. Like any other teenager, she deals with school and relationship issues. And fair warning, the book does include some aspects of Starr’s life that some may find objectionable, including a good deal of cursing and some sexual references. All of these details, though, leave the reader with the impression that Starr is a real person whom they can relate to, which is a necessary prerequisite for understanding her experience.

Because the book is basically an introduction to race issues geared towards a young adult audience, it can fall into the trap of over-exposition at times. One chapter in particular, in which Starr and her father discuss his past as a drug dealer and his search for redemption, comes to mind. But these instances are rare, and the story is plenty compelling on its own. To be honest, if a little exposition is what it takes to get readers to empathize with racial minorities, it’s certainly worth it.

The Hate U Give doesn’t present these issues as simple and straightforward, either. Even Starr, the protagonist of the story, has to learn to be less prejudiced as the story progresses, especially when it comes to slut-shaming. And at the risk of sharing spoilers, I’ll say that the story doesn’t have a “happily ever after” ending. This isn’t a one-size-fits-all guide to solving racism.

Instead, it’s an expression of the black experience from a young woman’s perspective that offers readers who’ve never been subjected to such experiences a starting point for empathy. The Hate U Give is a powerful story about the issues and struggles faced by African Americans today, and it has the potential to invite a whole new group of readers to become allies of racial minorities. Reading this book impacted me deeply, and I hope that others will open themselves up to being impacted by it as well. Empathy and understanding are the first steps towards reconciliation, and this could be a powerful tool in starting that process for many.

Bruce Almighty and God’s Governance

In my young adult Sunday School class at church, we’re doing a series on portrayals of God in culture and how they compare to the God of the Christian faith. This blog post is an adaptation of some of the discussion points from the third lesson.

One important thing to know about me is that I’m not easily offended. Jokes that poke fun at the Christian faith don’t bother me. In fact, I kind of like them, as long as they’re funny. On its surface, the 2003 comedy Bruce Almighty seems like an extended joke with Christianity as the punchline. But as we dig deeper into the story’s plot and meaning, we see that it’s really grappling with some difficult issues that each of us will confront at some point in our lives: Why does God let bad things happen to me and to other good people? Why does it feel like God doesn’t care? Could I do a better job at running the world than God does?

These are the very questions we find the protagonist asking at the beginning of the film. Bruce (played by Jim Carrey) has hit a rough patch in his life that comes to a head when he’s passed over for a big promotion at work and subsequently fired for his negative (over)reaction. In his frustration, Bruce lashes out at God, claiming that instead of him, God is the one who should get fired since he’s doing a pretty cruddy job at running the world.

And whether we like to admit it or not, we’ve all been there. When bad things happen to us, it’s natural to question God. We ask why he allows these things to happen. We wonder whether or not he really cares about us. We lose patience because we know how we want the world to be, and God seems to have a different agenda. Bruce’s sentiment is relatable, if not universal.

But what happens to Bruce next is certainly unique. Instead of being met with silence, he starts receiving messages on his pager prompting him to come to a certain address. After a while, he gives in, and when he arrives at his destination, he comes face-to-face with God himself (played brilliantly by Morgan Freeman). God tells Bruce that since he thinks he can do a better job at running the world than God can, he’s going to be granted the full power of divinity. Bruce walks away believing that he’s just conversed with a crazy person, but he soon finds what the mysterious man told him to be true: Bruce is suddenly all-powerful.

As you’d expect from a Jim Carrey movie, this premise sets off a series of hijinks that make viewers laugh, cringe, and sometimes blush. But as Bruce gets more familiar with his power and the responsibility that it entails, he learns a few important lessons about God’s governance of the world, lessons that we would do well to learn ourselves.

Our frustration with God often comes from our own lack of openness to him. In the scene where he lashes out at God, Bruce starts by asking for some kind of sign. He immediately drives past traffic signs that say, “Stop,” and “Caution,” before wrecking his car and having a total meltdown. He was so blinded by his anger that he couldn’t see the signs of God’s warning and presence right in front of him. God was giving Bruce exactly what he was asking for, but he refused to acknowledge it.

And if we’re being honest, we’re guilty of this as well. We get frustrated when God doesn’t respond to us the way that we want him to, and that blinds us to the many ways that God is, in fact, reaching out to us. We serve a God who is always present with us, a God who wants to do life with us. But we can’t see it if we’re too preoccupied with our anger at him. In order to hear from God, we must first make ourselves open to him on his terms. And when we do, we find that he’s been right beside us the entire time.

If we ran the world, it would be a catastrophe. Bruce is initially excited by his newfound powers because he thinks that he can use them to set everything right. Of course, by “everything,” I mean everything in his life that he finds unsatisfactory. He uses his powers to excel in his career and his love life. Eventually, he is forced to grapple with the question of how to use his power for the good of others when he has to answer their prayers. But Bruce fails fantastically on all accounts, ruining his relationship with his girlfriend and plummeting the city into chaos by replying, “Yes,” to everyone’s requests, resulting in so many lottery winners that everyone gets a measly sum of a few dollars.

Before we rush to judge Bruce for the destructive ways in which he uses his divine power, let’s ask ourselves: Would we do any differently? We often imagine how much better the world would be if we were in charge, but in those hypothetical scenarios, who benefits the most? It’s us. And the sad truth is that we aren’t even capable of properly leveraging the small amount of influence we have for the benefit of others. What makes us think that we’d do a better job if we were given even more responsibility? No, when we really consider the implications of having unlimited power, we quickly realize that we are woefully insufficient for the challenge. Which leads us to one simple conclusion.

God knows what he’s doing. There is only one person fit for the job of ruling the universe, and he’s already got it. As the creator and sustainer of everything that exists, God knows what is best, not only for the world and history as a whole, but also for each of us individually. In light of our own inadequacy and God’s position as the sole person qualified for governing the world, what more are we to do than put our trust in him, believing that he cares for us and that he knows what is best?

That’s the conclusion that Bruce comes to, at least. After causing catastrophe in his life and the lives of those around him, he finally admits that he isn’t fit to be in charge. He pleads with God to take his powers back, committing his fate to God’s hands. Then and only then is Bruce able to repair the damage that he has done and find contentment in the wonderful life that God has blessed him with. Sure, he may not have a flashy job or a perfect life. But he has enough to get by, and he has faith that God is out there watching over him.

Scripture tells us that God has an ultimate purpose for the world and that, in the end, that purpose will become reality. We may not understand everything that happens in our lives. In fact, we may not understand any of it. But we can trust that God is in control and that he is working history on both the grand, meta scale and the individual, personal level to his ultimate purpose, and we can trust that it is good.

Hands Too Full

Lately, I find myself increasingly conscious of my hands. Specifically, I’m paying attention to the amount of stuff I’m carrying and considering how I can free up my hands so that I can use them for, you know, hand-type things. You’d think that a techie like myself would have digitized everything by now, rendering the need to carry things obsolete. And yet, I find myself most every morning struggling to get out of my car, struggling to open doors, struggling just navigate the office because I’m always lugging something around with me.

It might be my trusty water cup, something I never leave home without. Or my coffee mug that grants me discounted refills at the cafe. It might be a book I’m reading or some obscure piece of technology I ordered for work. It might be groceries or a takeout order I grabbed because I was too lazy to buy groceries. Sometimes, it’s a toy that my nephew asked me to hold for him. More often than it should be, it’s my phone. It could be any number of things, but the point is that my hands always seem to be full, and it has inconvenienced me to the point that I spend time actively thinking about ways to free up my hands. (It’s also inconvenienced me to the point that I’m writing this blog post about it.)

It’s unnatural to constantly carry all of these things with me all the time. I look painfully awkward trying to walk around with my arms full of junk, and I’m prone to drop things when I’ve overloaded myself. I often run into friendly church folk who offer to shake my hand, not as a formality but as a sincere form of extending grace, and the look of confusion and disappointment on their faces when they realize that I’m too bogged down to return the gesture is haunting. It’s difficult to converse, to play, or even to just feel comfortable when my hands are full. It might sound trivial, but this is a serious problem for me.

It’s also made me consider other ways I’m keeping myself from fully living my life by carrying too much. After all, the things we choose to take with us as we go about our days speak to who we are under the surface. (I believe there’s a book about that.) So my tendency to carry too much physically may be indicative of a deeper issue.

Each of us—even those lucky few who have somehow figured out a way to keep their hands free—carry things with us. We carry the tasks and concerns that occupy our minds. We carry scars and emotional baggage from past experiences. We carry preconceived notions about others and the way the world should work. These are natural, and each has its place, but when we take the time to reflect on all of the things that we carry around with us every day, we begin to truly feel the weight of it all.

What experiences are we missing on out when we’re too busy worrying about some potential future disaster to be present in the moment? How many deep, meaningful connections with others do we deprive ourselves of when we’re too cyncical to entrust even the tiniest parts of ourselves to other people? Imagine how much we could learn, how much we could enjoy the world around us, how much lighter we would feel if we just weren’t bogged down by everything we’re carrying.

This is probably the part where I should have some practical advice on how to free ourselves up mentally and emotionally; I don’t. The truth is that I’m terrible at letting things go. Because as burdensome as these things are, they’re still mine. My pain. My preoccupation. My anger. My bias. My doubt. I’ve carried them around for so long that they feel like a part of who I am, and imaging life without them is scary, even though I know life without them would be better.

Sometimes, letting go looks like acceptance. It means seeing things as they are and letting them be. Other times, it means distance. Maybe you don’t need that particular stressor in your life. And in other cases, it may mean something else. For each of us, the process of moving past things that weigh us down is different, but it starts with recognizing the fact that we’re carrying entirely too much and naming the things that we need to get rid of.

And that’s where I find myself now. I’m aware that I carry too much, and I’m starting to pinpoint the burdens that I’m bearing unnecessarily. I hope that with time, I’ll find a way of letting these things go so that they won’t weigh me down anymore. Every day, I’m seeking to feel a little lighter and live a little more fully. And who knows? Maybe along the way I’ll figure out how to free up my hands, too.

New Study Confirms Something I Already Believed

The internet has offered me a new source of endless entertainment. It’s quite simple, really. As I’m scrolling through my Facebook feed, if I see a story or a quote that I find questionable, I’ll simply plug a few of the keywords along with the term “Snopes” into my search bar and see what I find. Nine times out of ten, the first result is an article from the fact-checking website that debunks the claims of the story I’m checking and offers compelling evidence against it.

Once I’ve confirmed my suspicions (and usually checked a couple of other sources just to be sure), I go back to the original post in question. As respectfully as I can, I write a comment indicating that the content is fake and linking to the Snopes article. Sometimes, I even explain a little bit about the history of how the hoax spread around. And I usually end my comment with a simple request: “Please check your sources.”

A funny thing happens after I leave these sorts of comments. I come back later and find that the post is still there. Sometimes, the original poster will have liked my comment or even replied to it, but the misleading post remains. On the person’s profile. In public. After they’ve already been told that what they’re sharing is untrue.

This absolutely baffles me. I can sympathize with those who fall into the trap of sharing something that’s untrue. I’ve been guilty of not properly checking my sources once or twice myself. But once I found out that I had posted something that wasn’t accurate, I quickly corrected it by either updating the post with an apology or by taking it down altogether. I would never want something untrue or downright fake associated with my profile, my public image. And I certainly wouldn’t want to lead those who read my posts astray. Yet, I see people leave this sort of content on their pages all the time. I just don’t get it.

I think it’s important to note that I’m not saying people should stop sharing things that I disagree with. I’m aware that my opinions aren’t infallible, and I’m happy to have civil, constructive, intelligent conversation. But what I’m not willing to do is take seriously content that has been proven to be fake.

It’s one thing to accidentally share misinformation. It happens to the best of us. But once it’s been definitively proven that the content you shared is false, it is no longer an accident. It becomes intentional, purposeful, and downright dangerous. Leaving content like this on your profile is damaging in several ways.

On the most basic level, it spreads misinformation. We all know that information is a powerful thing. It influences people’s beliefs and decisions. It affects elections and world events. And it can either reinforce or call into question ideas held by those who are exposed to it. That’s why we need good, true information. If we want to make informed decisions, improve the world, and just be all-around intelligent people, it starts with the information that we’re taking in and sharing. If that information is false, then everything we build on that foundation will be flawed.

We humans are prone to confirmation bias, the tendency to prioritize information that reinforces our already-held beliefs. If I see something on Facebook that I agree with, I’m more likely to spend time on it and even to share it. This is perfectly natural. But if I allow that confirmation bias to lead me down the path of sharing information that I know to be fake, then I’m not making a positive contribution to the conversation. I’m just making things worse for everyone.

Sharing fake news also hurts your credibility. Sure, some people who agree with you might not care whether your data is true or not, but those who care about intellectual integrity are going to come to the conclusion that you aren’t a reliable source on information. From then on, nothing you share is going to hold any weight with other people because you have a track record of sharing things that aren’t true. And if that’s the case, what’s the point in sharing things in the first place?

No one wants to be the fake news person. People don’t like the fake news person. Don’t be the fake news person.

But most importantly, purposefully sharing false information is a lie. There is no justification for intentionally spreading fake news. No belief, no opinion, no ideological claim is worth more than your integrity. When you knowingly share something that’s fake, you are lying to your friends and family, the people you’re supposed to be the most honest with. I know we all have our beliefs that we want to defend, but is it really worth lying to the people who mean the most to us?

At the end of the day, good ideas are backed up by true, high-quality data. If you believe that what you have to say has value (as we all do), then don’t settle for something that’s fake and hope that no one will notice. Give your ideas, your friends and family, and ultimately yourself the respect they’re due and quit it with the fake news. We can do better. We deserve better. So let’s do better.