I published this the first time on my blog in February 2020, just a month shy of the world's awareness of just how big of a situation COVID would be.
I also published this just 8 months before my mother's sudden death from a reaction to chemotherapy for her stage 1 breast tumor----and almost 2 years shy of my husband's suicide. I had no idea how true these words of February 2020 would become for me.
Below are the original words with a few small parts added in regarding the past 4 years:
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For the past two years, my sister and I have joked that we
have a special type of sister bond---a shared voodoo curse. We had seen voodoo curses back in an episode of Gilligan's Island and maybe with The Brady Bunch---or maybe that was just a necklace with a curse.
Regardless, little did Kelly and I know when we were
young, when we played the M.A.S.H. paper game of the 1970s that allowed us to
dream about our future home, husband, and financial situation, that our lives
would not turn out at all like we had thought it might.
Our joke is a sisterly twist of Murphy’s Law. For us, the Lewis Sisters’ voodoo curse is a
matter of the two of us trying to find humor in some very humorless situations. To continue our dark humor, we mutually own
two little miniature voodoo figurines of Wonder Woman, and her ringtone on my
phone states "voodoo jester.”
When something goes wrong, as it often does, all we do is laugh, shrug, and blame the voodoo curse for her family's continued health issues and my family's continued relationship issues.
Although I have no real belief in voodoo curses or in magic
shamrocks or in the colored rabbits’ feet I used to buy as a child, I do truly believe
that the #blessed theology is
dangerous.
From Christian friends of mine who claim #blessed when their kid’s Christian
sports team wins a game (I guess because the other Christian team is not
blessed) and from Christians who claim #blessed
when their luxury boat is not harmed in a hurricane while others’ hard-earned
trailers are demolished, I find it hard to swallow this #blessed theology. If this theology
is, in fact, true, then unfortunate situations prove that God does not love me,
does not listen to me, does not protect my belongings, or have my team
win. He must not love me as much as he
loves these #blessed people.
I would guarantee that those who landed on American shores
to obliterate Native Americans by the thousands thought they were blessed as
they ate their first Thanksgiving dinner provided by the Native Americans. I am sure the pictures of that event would
have been tagged with #blessed had
Twitter existed then. This #blessed flawed
theology states that because the Native American culture was completely
demolished, God must have not cared as much for these people.
Likewise, when people were rounded up to become slaves in
this #blessed country, historical
reports show that the white slaveowners told their slaves that God had allowed
them to rule. As a result, these African
slaves were led to believe that God must love the white slaveowners who openly committed
adultery with their female slaves and beat others to bloody messes more than he
loved the small African boy. What a twisted image of God this is!
Much more recently, I have heard many claim God's Anointing on one political candidate because a bullet barely missed his ear. Yet, have we considered how this type of statement reveals a heart unaware of empathy because a Christian in the crowd did die. How can God choose one but not the other? Do we not realize that when we claim God's blessing on one and not on another this is not only hurtful but also suggests that we believe that one is more #blessed than another?
Even more, I have heard claims that this political candidate was "strong enough" to avoid being killed while apparently the same was not true for the 19 students and 2 teachers who died (and the 17 others who were injured) in the shooting at Robb Elementary in Uvalde, Texas, in 2022. For the parents of the 19 students, if they believe this, God must not have been there----or their children and their teachers were not "strong enough" or "heroic" enough to live. How can one person be seen as extra important, extra #blessed, and extra valued if God knows and loves each of us? If you don't believe me that this type of thinking hurts the entire Christian faith, I am not the only one pointing out the hypocrisy: https://www.texasmonthly.com/news-politics/trump-assassination-texas-christians/. As the author of this article suggests, this type of #blessed thinking makes God's ways their own ways.
When we use this type of talk, God becomes a tool to push one political agenda over another, to push one's wealth or importance over another, to value one life over another----and the only one hurt in the whole mess is God.
* * * * * * *
After all these years, we still treat God as if He is some
rabbit’s foot. If we rub the rabbit’s
foot enough by praying the right amount of time, using the exact right words,
tweeting #blessed enough times to
witness to others, then God will provide all we dream and ask.
I believe God is more than a rabbit’s foot. This #blessed
theology makes those whose loved ones die of cancer or have incurable diseases
despite all types of prayers feel like they failed, that God must not love them
enough. This #blessed theology makes those whose marriage collapsed despite
prayers feel like even God does not care.
This #blessed theology makes
anyone whose “luck” is down, whose paycheck is not enough to pay the bills, or
whose lives are not ideal question who they are in God’s eyes.
I have to believe that God is more complicated than any
tweet or hashtag. Just because I have
belongings or a win for my kid’s team does not mean that God has blessed me.
Perhaps this desire to believe this about God is selfish. Perhaps my hope that God is more complicated than any #blessed concept is because of my "voodoo curse." Otherwise, the only thing I can believe is true is that I must have sinned tremendously. Considering how things have worked out in my life with my two marriages, my parents who died early, my sons-----I either have to believe God hates me or that boxing him in with #blessed is false.
Recognizing God’s blessing means that we recognize in private the many ways He has quietly stood beside us when life
was falling apart. Our lives may not be perfect, but He sat with us through the wreckage. Recognizing God’s
blessings is not connected to monetary successes or achieving the Pinterest
house or having the Norman Rockwell life.
God’s blessings do not come in perfect houses, luxury boats, the proper
clothing, the achievement of the American Dream, or the extravagant paycheck---or even perhaps, a shifted bullet.
God’s blessings come in small ways---from the complicated
spider web that shimmers in the dew, from an expected word of encouragement
from a friend or stranger, from an extra long cuddle from a child, from a deep conversation
with a special someone, or just a brief moment of peace in the midst of a storm
of life.
There are so many watching those who claim faith. They see when their life circumstances do not
“match up” to those who call themselves #blessed. I do not want to be the
person whose #blessed theology makes
others lose hope, believe less in themselves, or believe less in my God who is
much more complicated than any hashtag I use.
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