Introduction

Welcome to “Nothing New.” The goal of my blog in the past has been to stimulate discussion about all things related to CBC, the Christian life, and the world at large. But it has recently been hijacked by my cancer and treatment. This means I have to eat some crow (which I hate) because early on I boldly claimed I would not allow my condition to take center stage in my life.

But it is taking center stage on my blog – for a while. I am rather torn about this development. I am uncomfortable making this all about me – because it’s not. It is strangely therapeutic for me to blog about this, however, and I cannot express even a fraction of my appreciation for everyone who reads and leaves their funny, weird, and /or encouraging words in comments and emails.

So please join with me in dialogue. I always look forward to reading your comments. (If you'd like to follow my cancer journey from day 1, please go to my post on 6/25/08 - Life Takes Guts - in the archives and follow the posts upwards from there.)

Wednesday, October 24, 2007

Eager

In one of my classes, we’ve been discussing the “right” way(s) to do “Christian counseling.” It can be incredibly difficult to sort through the various ways in which Christianity and psychology are related as well as the ways in which they ought to be related. If you read my posts last week, you may have gotten a taste of what some of those discussions have been like.

There seems to be an underlying assumption that there is only one right way to do Christian counseling. I may have even promoted this idea, albeit unintentionally. But my sense is that we sometimes worry too much about doing it the “right” way. It is almost as if we think, “If I don’t use the Bible in the right way,… or if I don’t use prayer in the right way, then my client and I aren’t going to find God in counseling. He won’t be able to help us understand and/or solve this problem.”

Yesterday, I came across this description of the prodigal son and his father (Luke 15:11-32). After the son wishes his father dead, takes his father’s money, and wastes a part of his own life, he returns home. “Verse 20 mentions that the father ran to meet his son. In our day, we might not think too much of that. But in ancient cultures, fathers were figures of dignified authority. Fathers waited for their sons to approach them. Fathers rarely walked out to meet their sons, not to mention doing something so undignified as running out to see them. In this story, the father's eagerness to see his son reveals his strong love for his son.”

The thought occurred to me that God might still find us in counseling, even if we aren’t doing it the “right way” and it appears undignified for Him do to so. I am still a proponent of doing good theology and of thinking clearly about the best ways to do Christian counseling. That is incredibly important work. But it is helpful for me to remember that the criterion for finding God isn’t that we are integrating psychology and Christianity correctly. (Check out
Deuteronomy 4:29.) And it is helpful to remember that God is eager to meet us.

1 comment:

whatamk said...

Quick intro, I'm a graduate student in psychology at SAGU (Southwestern Assemblies of God University) and I'm taking a class on integrative issues.

I'm inclined to agree with you about God meeting us where we're at as we struggle to serve God the "right way." I've looked at some methods of integration that I'm strongly opposed to, and yet, it's a person who loves God and whom God has used for good. It puts things in perspective. It's not about "my way versus your way" nearly as much as it is "My (God's) power is made perfect in weakness." (2 Cor 12:9) I suppose God knows what that perfect way is, but I don't expect that I'll ever be able to say with any personal honesty that I've found it.

That said, my prof would flay me alive if I gave that as my position on the personal integration theory paper coming up soon. When it comes down to it, if I'm going to practice, then I need to reach a place in myself that what I'm doing is "right", or I can't ethically continue to practice.