Hey hey! Happy Easter!
March has always been a full month, because the second week of June was apparently my ancestors’ favorite week for gettin’ it on. My father, two aunts, my grandmother, and my son (I do love a family tradition) all have birthdays in March. This particular March is extra special for two reasons. 1) We celebrated Dick’s 90th birthday! Can you believe? What a gas. If you sent my dad a card, THANK YOU. He was truly thrilled by every one he received, and has already started rereading.
2) It’s Easter. EASTER. I love Easter more and more every year. The longer I live and the more suffering I experience, the dearer resurrection becomes. However, Easter is also GO TIME if you’re a worship pastor. We are (happily) up to our vocal chords in practices and egg hunts from now until April 1st.
All that to say, this is a throwback edition from March 2022, as I have been too preoccupied with festivities to write a fresh one. I hope you enjoy!
Welcome to The Paradox Paper, a monthly newsletter that honors paradox in the every day. If a friend forwarded you this email, click here to subscribe:
In this edition:
A drama that will keep you guessing and surprise you with humor
A brainless reality show for when you want to feel good about your relationship skills
Thoughts on insecurity and shame
A prayer for learning to pray
Severence, AppleTV+
This quick-witted drama follows Mark and his coworkers, employees at the Lumon company, who have all elected to have their work memories surgically divided from their personal memories. When they’re working, they know nothing of their personal lives. When they clock out, they remember nothing about work. It’s trippy in the best way, and surprisingly funny. A little eerie in a 1984 what-the-heck-is-going-on-here kind of way, but not scary. Tight nine episodes. Skip if profanity is not for you.
The Ultimatum, Netflix
I’m an equal opportunity TV watcher. This is the Paradox Paper after all. We can hold space for prestige dramas and trash reality shows at the same time, can we not? The Ultimatum is without a doubt the most buck wild of Netflix’s dating shows I’ve watched. The show begins with six couples, one member of each having issued an ultimatum to their partner: “Marry me or I’m moving on.” There’s dating around, not one but TWO “trial marriages,” and a lot of suuuuuuuper healthy conflict resolution. A real delight. Skip if quality entertainment is important to you.
The night before I’m writing this I had the sobering joy of speaking to the students at our church about honesty in prayer. The topic was assigned, but I don’t know that I could’ve picked one that was any more “me.” I’ve been thinking on it for weeks, waking up in the middle of the night to type half-formed thoughts into the Notes app. I spent the three days before the talk in focused preparation, settling on which Scripture passages to use and which stories to tell. When the moment arrived I was eager to share my words.
I wanted the kids in the room to grab on to the hope of this message. God wants to be with the real us! He wants to hear our real thoughts! Unfiltered, unfettered, no best-foot-forwarding necessary. Is there any relief more dear than this?
When I got up on stage my nose began to run. My voice was scratchy. I lost my place more than I like. It wasn’t a train wreck, but it didn’t feel as smooth and easy as I’d hoped it would. Once we herded over-tired children up the stairs, brushed their teeth, kissed their faces, and tucked them into bed the insecurity began to set in. And with it, the insecurity insecurity.
Do you get that too? The first layer is something like, “Yikes, I talked longer than I meant too. I hope they didn’t get bored,” or “I can’t believe I forgot to come up with discussion question. Where was my brain?” But there’s a deeper, sneakier, shamier layer underneath that whispers, “Why are you worried about this? Don’t you know better by now? This isn’t about you! You’re acting like a child, sooooo worried about what other people think! Be a grown up and let it go!”
And so this morning I’m following my own advice and praying some honest prayers. I feel squirmy about my talk. I feel gross for feeling squirmy about my talk. And God loves me so much. He is delighted with me because I’m His. My insecurities (and the shame they bring with them) are safe with Him.
It is a true joy to write for you each month, and I always love to hear about anything you tried and loved or anything that stirred your heart. Simply reply to this email or leave a comment to let me know.
Until next time, hold the paradox, don’t panic. Love you.
-Steph
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