It’s very in vogue just now to take a discomfiting
exchange and recount it online with
the indignant gravity that causes your friends to rally to your side in
supportive outrage. You know what I’m talking about, Christian mommies. Grocery-Store-Stranger Angst.
Here are the examples I see most frequently:
“My big family attracted this sarcastic criticism…”
“My mixed/adoptive family attracted this intrusive curiosity…”
“My homeschool family attracted this leering condescension…”
And all these complaints end with the italicized kicker: “…and they said it right
in front of my kids!”
Beloved sisters, here’s my exhortation to you.
If you’re a Christian and you’re in any of these categories
(or all of them!) then you have probably become the sort of family that draws
public contempt in direct response to the call of God on you to glorify him by
leading an off-trend life.
What that looks like in 2016 is not what it has looked like
in other eras, but rest assured this is just another iteration of the promise
that we will never look like the world and that we will draw its [frequently
negative] attention. So first of all,
congratulations on reflecting Christ in quietly bold ways!
But…there’s always a but... when we take our frustration at
the world’s lack of understanding and trumpet it as indignation, we’re
reflecting our culture, not our faith. The expectation that society should be
sensitive to our preferences and hide signs of natural curiosity is our
culture’s current reigning ethic.
It is not a Biblical one.
The Psalmist cries, “Have mercy on us, Lord, have mercy on us, for we have endured no end of contempt. We have endured no end of ridicule from the
arrogant, of contempt from the proud.” But he cries out to heaven, not to his facebook
fanbase. And like James, he knows that trials, and even the temptation to vent,
produce endurance and joy. Like an HIIT workout for the spirit.
Families making counter-cultural stances must expect some
hostility and view curiosity as a welcome opportunity. Especially, especially
right in front of our kids.
Here’s the thing. If you’ve got eight kids, or if your kids
are eight different skin tones, or if they trail after you at Target during regular
school hours (in matching jumpers or not) it’s a little unfair to expect people
to not wonder. We all try to make sense of what we see. Whether those curious
strangers should say anything or not may be a matter of opinion, but I’ll say
this: can we simultaneously bemoan the loss of community and village-mentality
in our culture and act scandalized when a stranger engages us? Even if the
question betrays ignorance, as Christians we should extend grace where the
intent seems innocent. It’s how we’d all want to be treated.
But of course, sometimes it isn’t innocent. Sometimes the
hostility is blatant. Well, if you can write an eloquent and witty blogpost,
you’re probably smart enough to know when to walk away (pearls before swine and
all) but I tend to view even many hostile openings as openings.
Think of this. Your family, just by existing, is prompting
conversations with strangers.
Every. Single. Day.
You have daily
invitations to explain the reason for the hope that is in you. Speaking of
your children, do they see you jump through that opening and offer up something
to send that stranger off pondering, or do they see you grit your teeth and go
home and rant online? Your children will hear things that hurt (which in many
cases still doesn’t really compare with the suffering of myriad children
worldwide if we’re honest) but what they will internalize is what you did in
that moment.
Remember this. Our culture is hostile to big/colorful/homeschooling
families because they fly in the face of the imperative to seek
self-gratification. Here’s what we offer the world, and those who are grasping
at fleeting pleasure: whatever thing they fear to lose, that your ten children
threaten, is its own reward. There is no derivative benefit. Jet setting, night
life, power career, whatever it is, its pleasures never outlast the moment.
Are our family choices inconvenient? Yup. They really are.
We really do sometimes wish we could leisurely try on bathing suits and then
read at a café, or prioritize bikini waxes and manicures and travel. We really
do. But they know all that. What they don’t know, if we respond defensively
instead of joyfully, is that by investing in people (and there are many ways to
do this without having kids! Teach! Volunteer! Counsel!) we reap
benefits that increase exponentially with time and generations. That’s
something you get to share with someone who’s curious enough to ask.
So if someone assumes that the kid behind you in line isn’t with
you because you don’t look related (whether because you’ve adopted or in our
case, because of hilarious genetic happenstance), put your arm around her and
say, “Oh, she’s all mine!” and tell them how she completes your family. Right
in front of her. Make her blush. Everyone wins.
If someone questions your qualifications to teach your kids
and wonders if you’re raising unsocialized weirdos, gush a little about how you
get to see the “ah-ha” moments and how much time you can spend reading good
books over pancakes and how vibrant their relationships with all age groups
are. I’ve seen so many cynics soften when I share my excitement instead of
getting (as the Marines say) butt hurt about it.
If someone wonders if you’ve heard of birth control, let it
slide and bubble over with the unique joys a big family experiences while you
share the sweet anecdotes that make the sacrifices worthwhile. They don’t know.
How can they if you don’t tell them?
All that to say… culture will give you a pass if you turn
from these encounters and seek comfort from those who are already like-minded.
Sensitivity is A-OK in the public arena. But not in the Christian life. We were
called to stand out, take some abuse, and turn it all to his glory. So rejoice
if someone notices how weird you are. You have a unique platform. I know you
can use it faithfully and well.
