I grew up poor.
I worked my butt off to get where I am today.
But I did not do it on my own.
I did not pull myself up by my *own* bootstraps.
I didn't even have bootstraps to pull on.
I ate thousands of free lunches at school.
I benefited from thousands of dollars of food stamp assistance.
I had a hard-working mom who had to work two jobs.
I had generous people I went to church with in High School.
I received government grants to help pay for college.
I worked my butt off to be where I am today.
But I did not do it on my own.
It was a combination of my own hard work, the generosity of the community around me, and the Federal and State government filling in the gaps that my family and my community could not afford to fill.
I could not in good conscience be where I am today because of those things and then turn around and work against other poor children having those same opportunities to receive help.
My politics aren't about left vs. right. My politics are about personally experiencing the benefits of an imperfect system of imperfect compassion.
When I vote, my first question will always be, "Does this person care about poor children in rural Missouri? Poor kids in urban Memphis?" If they don't, they don't get my vote.
I once had a boss snidely say, "You only preach the way you do [about social justice] bc you grew up poor." He meant it as an insult to my objectivity. I replied, "You don't preach the way I do bc you have to protect wealthy donors." I meant it as an insult to his "objectivity."
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Last night we were doing our book club over Jesus and John Wayne by @kkdumez and we started talking about how Evangelical conservatives often dream of this mythical American past that was lost 50-60 years ago.
We talked about how they never say specifically what changed six decades ago [ehem: the Civil Rights Act, Women's rights] but they just imagine it as a time when America was better.
But I mentioned to my book club how, when I hear that daydream being voiced, I always have a very quick come back:
My grandfather was an an angry, abusive, toxic man who beat his wife and his kids. And in the 50s and 60s no one believed them and society had no way to help them.
Interesting to me the # of people I went to seminary with who are now #deconstructing their faith. These aren't everyday Evangelicals. These are trained in an Evangelical institution - a good one, at that - who started working in churches and experienced early ministerial trauma.
It raises the question of whether the intellectual and spiritual formation of seminary students is really preparing us not only to pastor people but also training us to survive the traumatic experience that is church-employment.
I don't blame these folks one bit. While I'm not necessarily in a deconstructive period (unless the whole of my faith is always that...which may be), I have been traumatized by church employment and can easily see how someone could walk away from it all after working in a church.
I have a deep appreciation for Boomer colleagues who've mentored me. But I've also seen that our assumptions about ministry often don't align. While I receive wisdom when offered, I don't always take advice. This confuses them @ times. What's obvious to them isn't to me.
This is NOT a knock on Boomers or Boomer pastors. I think there's a generation divide in how we were trained and what we were told pastoral life *is* and what the church *should* be.
I think some of them are surprised, given how gifted they think I am (for which I'm humbled!) that I'm not aiming to make my church a megachurch.