Sacrifices

I have particular, and sometimes peculiar, convictions. Some of these convictions have developed throughout my life, others I have come to in adulthood. Some are based on what I believe it means to live as an Anabaptist Christian, others have developed out of my sense of who God is calling me, in particular, to be in the world. Some of my convictions are easily held because they are rarely challenged, others are challenged to various degrees through circumstance or through direct confrontation from others (and those challenges can be a very good thing!). All of them require some degree of sacrifice as do all choices. There are pros and cons, degrees of faithfulness and unfaithfulness, health and brokenness in all decisions that we make.

So I find it amusing that when individuals actually challenge me about some of my convictions they immediately try to force me to consider what I am giving up or ask "what if..." questions (as if I had not already done so) , without acknowledging that their choices have also required sacrifices. This is most often the case when my choice is seen as counter cultural. 

An aside: I'd like to point out that I have almost never been challenged on how well I'm actually living out my convictions or whether or not my conviction is bearing fruit, and people certainly could challenge me on those things. I am not perfect. It's easy for me not to go to war but mighty hard to be loving to people that drive me nuts. The challenges I do receive are usually on the choice itself. 

My conviction that being a follower of Jesus means that we are to work for peace and justice in active, yet non-violent ways is rarely challenged directly since I am not being forced to make the decision of whether or not to enlist, as was the case for many of my ancestors. Yet periodically I do get the inevitable "what if someone broke into your home and tried to harm your family?" question. There are many ways to engage that question, and I will not go into them here. However, what always confuses me when thinking about violence is the absence of consideration for what might happen to me and to the other if I did engage in violence. We, as a culture, usually assume that we would be sacrificing our own safety, our possessions, our well-being, if we did not respond with violence. Yet I rarely hear us considering what we are sacrificing when we do engage in violence, the damage that happens to self and other. It is painfully obvious when hearing stories of soldiers with PTSD, that inflicting violence and witnessing violence does not simply end the pain and suffering, it creates a whole new kind of brokenness that then has to be dealt with. There are sacrifices on both sides. 

My conviction to attempt to live simply and to consider carefully the ways in which I use technology are challenged somewhat more frequently, but usually in a more gently mocking tone. I don't have a cell phone and I have a relatively small TV (though I do have one!), and I spend far too much time on the internet for someone who has strong convictions about such things. I think, however,  the small TV has been the most commented on and bewilders most sports fanatics. I apparently, don't know what I'm missing! Well...I think I know some of what I'm missing. I'm missing a TV as the ultimate focal point in my apartment (we already think ours is too central, but can't relocate it due to wiring). I'm missing damaged eye sight from sitting way too close to an incredibly large screen. I'm missing seeing every pore on every TV personality's face. I'm missing increased noise. I'm missing copious amounts of time wasted in front of a TV which would be necessary in order to justify a purchase of that size (and I already watch too much TV). There's a ton that I'm missing; that I'm sacrificing, but are they not giving up some things as well?

But of all of my convictions, the one that is challenged the most often and the most passively aggressively, is my decision to remain single and not have children. I say passive aggressively because this is rarely an honest face-to-face conversation in which I am invited to tell my story, or to share why I feel called to singleness at this point in my life or how I understand the impact that my decision has on others. Most often I hear little jokes, small back-handed comments (often well-intentioned, but back-handed nonetheless), or stories about how so and so let herself "sit on the shelf" or "go to seed" or whatever. 

I always find these conversations both amusing and frustrating. It's not like I'm 18 and I suddenly decided to enter a convent. I'm almost 36 years old. In many ways my singleness has simply been part of my life circumstance. I am not against the institution of marriage, I am not against people having children, though I certainly wish more people would think carefully about their decisions to get married and have children, it might reduce the divorce rate and child abuse (not all people are suited to marriage and child rearing).  I simply choose to recognize the gifts that my singleness brings instead of pining away for what I do not have, and going "hunting" regularly.

Another quick aside: Most people who make comments to me also tend not to recognize that I am not "single" in the way that many people are single. For more on this see an earlier post.

At the heart of all of the comments that I receive, from both men and women, young and old is that I don't know what I'm giving up. Why would I want to sacrifice the joy of marriage and children (which, quite frankly, does not appear to be the norm) for a life of loneliness? Here is where the amusing part comes in. This is, it seems to me, the fundamental misunderstanding of both marriage and singleness that comes through in almost all the comments that I hear; the assumption that marriage and children = happiness, and singleness = loneliness. That single people simply sacrifice all the joys in life while married people sacrifice nothing! Hah!  Perhaps this is the problem with marriages, the assumption that there is no sacrifice, only gain. Perhaps marriages would last longer if couples received repeated concerned guidance from all far and wide that they should carefully consider what they are giving up in order to live in relationship, to form a household, to make a covenant (if that is part of their plan). Or if a couple wanting to have a baby had to sit and make lists of all the things that they would have to sacrifice for the rest of their lives before they attempt to procreate, perhaps parenting would grow in its intentionality. I say this with 1/2 sarcasm, and 1/2 seriousness.

Convictions, all convictions require sacrifice. Whether we are following traditional or mainstream customs, making counter cultural choices or anything in between, there are things that we have to let go of. And just as it's hard for others to sometimes see the beauty and gifts that come with some of my convictions, it is hard for me to see the same in theirs. It seems to be the default to assume that we have the corner on what is right and good, that in order for our decisions or convictions to be "right" they must be universal. However, I wonder what growth might happen for all of us, myself included, if instead of making back-handed critiques to one another's convictions we chose to sit down together and honestly share and receive one another's stories, to hear about the gifts that their convictions might bring, instead of only hearing our own assumptions.