When I was a practicing fundamentalist evangelical, I believed that God would inform my actions through a compass of peace. I believed that I could not trust my own mind and flesh, as they were sinful. Therefore, if I wanted to know that I was walking in “Truth,” I had to seek something outside of myself. I would pray, journal, read scriptures, and look for signs when any large decisions were before me. The confirmation of a right choice was always peace. When a calm settled over me, I knew I was doing the thing God wanted, and I would push forward in determination.
This type of spiritual direction-seeking led me to Southwest Baptist University. I hadn’t ever even heard of SBU or the town of Bolivar, Missouri. My senior year, my sights had been set on Drury University; I had no second choice option. I loved the artistic nature of the campus and the ability to finally try my hands at graphic design, photography, and video editing. My dream was to make music videos. It felt like a pipe-dream, so I settled for teaching English, instead.
Yet on the day I toured Drury for the first time in person, I felt the opposite of peace. I felt knots in my stomach and tunnel vision seemed to point out every negative aspect of that space. The buildings felt big, the dorms felt cold, the people looked different, and I was a fish out of water. It felt like the opposite of peace; I felt completely disoriented. My plans were crumbling in my hands. Where would I now go to college?
My dad mentioned that there was a university off the beaten path home, and asked if I wanted to check it out. I shrugged in agreement. When we reached the campus, we saw a young boy walking to class. Pulling over the car and rolling down the window, my dad hollered at the boy. “Hey there!” he said as the boy turned to face us. “Do you like going to school here?” The boy responded positively. I booked an official visit.
After touring the campus, I remember telling my mom, “I think I need to go here. I just have so much peace about it.” Their art department was sub-par, the artistry of the campus was underwhelming to say the least. The main selling point of their English department was that the professors had been missionaries. But I was willing to cash in on opportunity and expertise for peace. Signed, sealed, and delivered: I was heading to SBU in the fall.
I still have moments where I’m mad about that choice. Why? Because I don’t believe in the peace compass anymore. I think it misled me, kept me comfortable, limited my growth, and proved more than a time or two to be far from God. I think it was my biology trying to keep me safe. I wish I would have known the difference.
Dr. Bruce Perry explains this biological impulse in his book What Happened to You?
“We have talked about how an infant’s brain takes in sensory information to make sense of their world and build associations. And we’ve talked about how we’re deeply relational creatures whose developing brains–starting with the lowest areas–begin to make ‘memories’ of the smells, sounds, and images of ‘our people.’ These memories exist on a very deep, pre-cortical, unconscious level: the way your people talk, the way they dress, the color of their skin.
Now remember that your brain is always monitoring your world–both inside and outside–to ensure your survival. And when the brain encounters any unfamiliar experience, its default move is to activate the stress response. Better to be safe than sorry–better to assume that novelty can be a potential threat . . . When we encounter people with attributes that are different from ‘our people,’ the brain’s default is to activate the stress response. When that happens, we feel dysregulated, even threatened” (231-232).
SBU mandated chapel, had worship services, taught biblical worldview courses, had a strict no alcohol policy, and lacked diversity. The campus was small. It was very easy to navigate and class sizes would be similar to what I experienced in high school. One of my favorite teachers had also attended, which made the unknown feel somewhat familiar. SBU mirrored “my people.” Drury, however, did not. Therefore, my stress system activated, fearful of moving too far outside of what felt safe. Did that mean Drury was unsafe? Not at all. It simply means that Drury was outside of the familiar for me. And I confused that activation in my nervous system as a sign from God that going to college there would be a wrong choice.
When I read Dr. Perry’s words, I immediately felt compassion for those who have pushed my wife and me aside because we are gay. I felt compassion for the kids who might gawk at or criticize our kids for the same. I felt compassion for my past self who chose SBU over her dream school. We are all simply giving in to the lower parts of our brain who perceive threats in people and systems that are different than our own. Especially when we’ve been taught for years that “those people” are dangerous and sinful. If you look at our wedding photo and find yourself wanting to turn away or feeling your heart start to race, it might not mean that it’s wrong. It might just mean that it’s unknown, so your brain is concerned it might hurt you.
I’d go out on a limb and say that’s why so many feel threatened by those who oppose their political views, worldviews, religious views, or even hobbies and interests. We are in extreme echo chambers with crafty algorithms feeding us endless loops of content that is tailor made for us. It seems to increase our sense of “my people” and decrease the amount of people who fit into that clan. We have trained our brains to think a very small slice of people are the majority because we only see the videos and posts made by those people. Everyone else becomes our enemy.
Which is why I think it’s so dangerous to use peace as our compass. When we wait for no stomach knots, lowered heart rates, dry palms, and ease, we are likely to avoid differences. We are likely to seek narrower and narrower circles of sameness. We are likely to feel threatened when someone poses a thoughtful question that might cause us to doubt. We are likely to fight or flee when someone offers an opposing view. We are likely to make it our mission to ensure everyone believes what we believe. We are likely to govern and control through our beliefs. We are likely to perceive persecution and threat where there is simply difference. Personally, I just don’t have peace about that.
Here’s a simple set of questions to ask yourself if you’re wanting to prompt some self-reflection:
1) When I think about the people in my life, are they primarily people who are very similar in belief, experience, race, and sexuality?
2) Have I ever ended a relationship because of a disagreement or difference even though true harm was not caused to me?
3) Do I try to convince others to believe and practice the same things as me?
4) Has following peace ever led me away from newness? In retrospect, did choosing to follow that peace narrow my circle of sameness?
5) Do I follow content creators of different races, ethnicities, and belief systems?
this wordy world 