Assumptions Part 1

The assumption of power vs. the assumption of powerlessness

I have wondered for years how the white collar demographics is different than the blue collar. Even in my own life, and looking back on my own story feeling the overwhelming sense of powerlessness. Like doing the best with what you have. Wondering if my dad’s 40 years with government was out of fear or commitment. It is where in my life I can get stuck in thinking that I will have to follow in my father’s footsteps. Working hard and just getting by. Not really getting ahead. Not really taking things to the next level. Probably working harder not smarter. Spending most of my time wondering why I’m working so hard, for little reward, and being utterly exhausted most of the time.

And yet we have struggled with this for centuries. Poor and the Rich. The poor with the assumption of powerlessness. Little hope for advancement. And the rich with the assumption of power and security.

It gives me hope in the gospel. Last is first. I know in my own life I know I’m not striving for the last. Jesus turns the tables. Just when you think you have this world pegged He pulls out your belief system. The things you counted on don’t matter.

The mystery of it all for me is what does it look like to carry both? What does it look like to live n honest life, earn an honest wage, and say that that is enough? So much bitterness has built up between the white collar and blue collar crowds. What does it look like for both classes to look at each other and say we need what the other is offering? To walk in humility and love? To be for each other instead of standing at a distance judging and criticizing.

We are so driven by our lust for power. It takes us to two different places. Drivenness or resignation. And it seems most of the drivenness has fallen on the white collar and the resignation has fallen on the blue collar.

My mom’s dad was very good man. Served in the Pacific in WWII. Came home and married my grandmother. Worked odd jobs, painted houses, and ended up delivering mail and eventually becoming a post master in MD. After his retirement he built himself and my grandmother a house in southwestern VA. Learning to live on very little. In his retirement years he started traveling a bit. He planted a church in Hungary. I often admire him for his tenacity and kind heart. I find myself walking in some of the same footsteps he has. Was he content? I think so. He had a great impact on the kingdom but I can remember that he never had a great amount of money. Was he successful?

I have a great gift with relationships. And yet I wonder if it comes more from my brokenness than my glory. Very much like my grandfather, I have relationships that I know I will have for a lifetime. But is that enough? Great relationships don’t pay the bills. I want to die leaving something for my family. Before I die I want to own a beach house. Is that bad?

I want my life to have power. I want my life to matter. I want my life to change other lives….for years to come. I look for approval far too often. Trying to find that affirmation, the words of praise that my life does have weight and makes a difference.

Blue Collar Spirituality Part 2

I remember a summer job I got in high school. I was hired by this rich older man to valet park for his special party. He even made me wear this outfit while I was doing it. I remember parking the Mercedes and Range Rovers and thinking to myself that I was forever disqualified from owning such a piece of machinery. Now that I looked back I thought nothing of it at the time but how I was really making some unhealthy agreements with myself. I look back and feel ashamed about that time. I had no one else to tell me otherwise.

Most of that time has so much to do with Luke 15. The story of the prodigal son. The younger son is rebelous, squanders his daddys money is let back into family. The message for me. Go get crazy and it will be ok. No consequesnces. And that’s what I saw from my rich white collar friends. They’d go out and party, get crazy, enjoy themselves, and still have the silver spoon in their mouths. Theyd still win.

Where me on the other hand, would try to do everything right. Try to walk the straight line. Try to keep my nose clean. And what did I get for that? More hard work, and less recognition. Less fun.

I grew up in a small Baptist church in a town of about 500. It was a startchy spirituality filled with fear and rules. And with my pleasing brokenness was a perfect fit. If I could get it all right, be everyones hero, I might just have a chance at being recognized. It was definitely a very strong community. Loyalty would be the one word I could use to describe it. Our town was so small everyone knew each other. We never locked our doors growing up. Which was good when you needed help but you also had a lot of eyes on you, watching your actions, good and bad.

I often wonder what they really thought of us blue collar people.

With my upbringing also came with a certain sprit of poverty. Often a life of resignation. “this is my lot”. And some of that was good. It made me resourceful with what I had. If you didn’t have something you built it with what you had, you didn’t go out and just buy it. You looked around to see what you had and that was your starting point. It has made me somewhat of a pack rat though. It makes you keep everything. You never know when it will come in handy. I think about my dads garage. Full of stuff. You never know when you’ll need that extra bed frame?! My wife hates it. You buy things used not new. Self care really isn’t an option. You work your ass off. You eat a lot of food that’s probably not the best for you. I can remember breakfasts at my grandparents’ house. Delicious but filled with so much fat and grease. Great for the body. You rest little. You might smoke or chew or dip, or maybe all three. Oh, and you drink a lot of beer. Times of reflection or tending to your own heart and emotions are nonexistent.

You can see why this attitude prevails. If you exist with a theology that revolves around how you are a sinner first and Gods child second, wouldn’t you always think you deserve very little?

I just got finished watching a DVD called “the everlasting stream”. It is taken from a book written by Walt Harrington, a journalist from Washington DC. It is his journey from the big city to the farms of in-laws in Kentucky rabbit hunting. He is ambushed by what he calls “blue collar nobility”. It is an amazing story of self discovery. His book manly focuses on four main characters. Four old black men. They have known each other for decades, some since they were kids. Walt is amazed by their since of loyalty and camaraderie.

Blue Collar folk are faithful and committed. Sometimes to their own fault. Most of the relationships you find in the country have been around for ages. Along with that is their connection to family. In Loudoun if people don’t know me they know my father. It means something to introduce myself as Earl’s boy. It carries some weight. My dad’s faithfulness is expected of me.

Blue Collar Spirituality Part 1

Some of the best memories I have of my childhood revolve around this old 69 Chevy pick up my dad had. It was pea green with a white top. V8 of course. Bench seat with a cheap seat cover. The ignition was on on the actual dash. It came fully equipped am radio and 8 track radio under the seat. We took it everywhere. It was an amazing place for a young boy to grow up. It was strong and reliable. Especially with how my dad drove it. He drove that thing like a stock car.

I remember days we’d fill that thing with almost a full cord of locust firewood. Listen to John Denver on the 8 track. I’d have my big league chew and he’d have his Levi Garrett.

As I look back BMW, Range Rover, and Porsche, never entered my mind. All that mattered was that I was with my dad and his truck.

My dad grew up the son of a poor dairy farmer for the Navy. My dad, Sonny they called him, and his brother (woody), grew up working on the farm. Taking care of cattle in Maryland in the 50’s. Working with their hands. Neither went to college, Im not even sure it was on the radar for them. My dad went into the air force and later worked his whole life for the government. He just retired a few years ago after about 40 years of service.

I have thought long and heard about the lines of white collar and blue collar. What made my dad work so hard in his life? What made him work so hard and still in his 60’s working on getting rid of his mortgage?

I grew up in Loudoun County VA. In Loudoun the actual county when I was growing up was mostly split into two demographics. It was almost like an invisible line was split down the middle. Everything to the west was mostly farmers, mostly good old boys, with their pick up trucks and cows. Now everyone to the east was a little different. With Washington DC so close there was a little more money and development. More paved roads, more shops, more people. There was also a lot of old money. Horse plantations in the 1800’s left a lot of families with money.

And so in my high school parking lot it was not uncommon to see a tractor parked next to BMW . Its just the way it was. And for the most part the poor did not mingle with the rich. Or at least that’s how it felt.

At 34, I wonder if there was more assumption then I was aware of at the time. I think about what the blue collars assumed about the white collar and I also wonder about what the white collar assumed of the blue collar. I also think of the rift that it has created in the church. How maybe we haven’t risked crossing over these lines for the sake of the Kingdom.

From a blue collar perspective I can think of the assumptions I had of my white collar colleagues. They were rich, no problems, they wore all the clothes I wanted to. They had college paid for. They worked hard very little. They were prideful; they thought a lot of themselves. Unspiritual and uncommitted. And they only hung out with their kind. Their relationships were based on being connected to powerful (other rich) people. They were only concerned about two things: money and power. And they mostly came hand in hand.

And what they thought of us Blue Collar “folk”. Probably that we were uneducated, slow. Probably wondering when we would come over and mow their grass or shovel their driveway. They’d . Somehow they could never figure us out.