LETTER FROM THE EDITOR
Selflessness can feel like a heavy burden. Often, it doesn’t come from a place of lightness, freedom, and love, but from insecurity, guilt, or the belief that the harder thing is always the more holy thing.
But stress and shame don’t produce the fruits of the Spirit. Stress activates our flight, fight, or freeze responses, priming us for reactivity, judgment, and anger. It turns out, harsh self-denial and low personal esteem don’t cultivate selflessness. They reduce it. There’s another way of thinking about it, though. The Creator spoke the universe into being with incredible love. The Lord didn’t need us. He wanted us. Because of this, each human who has ever or will ever be born can dare to say they belong here. Each one of us is an image bearer. Each one of us carries the sweetness of potential—the possibility of being transformed like Christ.
No matter whether we serve in thankless, menial ways or in public, sought-after ways, our identities stay with us. Our bodies and souls are made by God, for God, and both are gifts (1 Timothy 4:16-19). We are gifts. Part of being selfless is seeing ourselves as gifts and sharing our self-gifts with others. When love for others is rooted in delight and trust in God, it’s restorative and transformational for everyone. We hope you enjoy our writers’ reflections on different aspects of selflessness and how they intersect with our identities and relationships. Ruth Marie Paterson’s poetry speaks to the complexities of trying to let others in when our own selves take up so much space. Rebecca Gregoire Lindenbach, one of the co-authors of The Great Sex Rescue, challenges us to reimagine a more selfless, redemptive sexual ethic.
In this issue’s feature interview, Sarah Evangeline talks about creative collaboration, how God healed her from the view that creativity is selfish, and how to take small, brave steps, even when the outcome is uncertain.
In the Flipside, Mike Bonikowsky describes what he’s learned about love and brotherhood through his role as a developmental support worker. Robbie Down reflects on the ways his parents have shaped his understanding of forgiveness and making peace.
May you find the words in these pages edifying and encouraging in your relationship with Jesus.
Ilana Reimer
We’ve grown up in a time where pain and stories are just being pried from the heavy lockboxes they have been hidden in.
History, stuffed down, compressed by time and policies, is leaking out.
And we’ve begun to realize that those old scars we thought had healed long ago are still open, bleeding wounds festering beneath the surface.
We hear about centuries of slavery, genocide, racism.
And we are struggling under the weight of this hurt, trying to grasp the meaning of reconciliation.
We are learning about the failures of past generations and wondering how we will avoid making these same mistakes.
We will change our society, of this I am certain.
But will it be for better or worse?
Will our pride be our downfall?
That feeling of perfection, of superiority over the people of the past would destroy us.
Our pride would only continue this cycle of injustice.
We are compelled to realize that we are just as broken and prone to failure as the generations before us.
Yet, this understanding should not lead us to despair, but to hope.
For we know God has taken our brokenness and redeemed it, making us whole.
And that He empowers us to restore our relationships with others.
This is reconciliation.
As trauma and pain are slowly brought to light, let us remember, we do not face this alone.
We can dare to reach out in love— approaching with humility, listening to those who ache with grief, and seeking justice for the wounds that were inflicted.
But most of all, let us pray and be filled with hope— the wild, beautiful, life-giving hope that reconciliation is possible, and even this can be redeemed.
We are the next generation, and we are learning how to heal.