Post-Traumatic Church Syndrome
Warning: Frank Schaeffer’s new book Why I’m An Atheist Who Believes in God (available for download FREE on Amazon today and tomorrow!) may cause moments of transcendence in your regularly-scheduled life– whether you’re a believer, Atheist, or, as Frank’s title holds, both at the same time.
Last Tuesday, I sat down with Frank, New York Times bestselling author (and son renowned authors Francis and Edith Schaeffer), via Skype to talk about PTCS, spiritual healing and his new book. I transcribed part of our conversation in my next post, and you can listen to the whole conversation by clicking here. But before I get to the interview, I’d like to tell you about a Frank-induced transcendent moment I experienced yesterday when a grungy, red-headed homeless gentleman waved me into a metered spot downtown.
“Forty minutes left, Ma’am!” he yelled. Exiting the car, I dug around for the cash I would have used for parking and handed it to him.
“That’s all I’ve got,” I apologized. (I have mixed feelings on giving out money on the street, but this guy was sober and trying to earn a buck.)
“God bless you,” the gentleman replied.
I expected him to walk away. He had his money; I had told him it was all I had. But he didn’t walk away. He said: “Ma’am, you sure look beautiful .”
(Friends, I must pause to explain that I did NOT. Yesterday’s look was Medusa in Baggy Sweatpants.)
If I hadn’t read Frank Schaeffer’s book, this would not have been an existential moment; this would have been a moment in which I assumed the homeless gentleman was drunk after all.
But because I had just talked with Mr. Schaeffer, and because I had just read his latest book Why I’m an Atheist Who Believes in God: How To Give Love, Create Beauty And Find Peace, the bottom fell out of that superficial moment, right into a glimpse of clarity. I remembered this scene from Frank’s life (excerpt below) when he was standing in the communion line with his granddaughter Lucy in his arms:
“With my head bowed and my eyes closed I shuffled forward to the chalice to receive the “body and blood” through a ritual I don’t comprehend and that seemed entirely pointless that day. I was adrift in my melancholy. Then I felt the touch of Lucy’s hand on my face and—startled—opened my eyes.
It took me a moment to remember where I was. Lucy was gazing into my face. She wasn’t smiling, just gazing at me in that straightforward way that only a child achieves: with serious concentration and offering me a transparent “look” that had no agenda. She wanted nothing from me. All I saw in Lucy’s expression was unconditional trust. All I saw was a child who knows me now and who never expects anything but kindness from me. She did not know of my past sins, failings and bitter self-accusing regrets. Lucy was not judging me. I was accusing myself while she was just gently touching her Ba’s cheek, checking to see why my eyes were closed.
Lucy inclined her head and kissed me. This thought crashed into my brain: I am being seen as I’d like to be perceived, not as I see myself. I have seen the face of God.”
I looked at the homeless gentleman and considered that while he was busy seeing me the way I’d like to be perceived, I was inwardly rolling my eyes at him—thinking he should really take a shower and get a real job already.
The transcendent interrupted the superficiality of his initial comment as I considered his kindness.
“Being right isn’t important,” Frank had said, “There is no right. Being kind is all we have.”
How often am I kind enough to I perceive people as they would like to be?
Not nearly often enough. But thanks to Mr. Schaeffer, I plan to change that answer.
Download Why I’m an Atheist Who Believes in God (for FREE today 5/30 and tomorrow 5/31)—and learn how to give love, create beauty and find peace wherever you are or aren’t in your spiritual journey.
For excerpts from our interview and to listen to the recording, please see my next post.
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