Confirmation Bias

There is a phenomenon called “confirmation bias”.

Simply put, it is the tendency we have to interpret new data as evidence that supports our already held beliefs. 

It’s why, for example, when I see positive things happening in my life I attribute them to God and not good fortune. My preexisting faith tells me that it was the intervention of an omnipotent Creator and not random happenstance. 

We are all subject to it; it is a central reason that arguing with someone over religious or political topics is so very frustrating, because both parties are looking at the same situation devastatingly differently. Holding our bias, we walk ourselves backward, searching for studies that bolster our preconceived notion and dismissing with scoffing any that disagree as unreliable. Even the way we word our search engine queries (“vaccines cause autism”.... “vaccine toxic poison chemicals”) is leading, and like a faithful and intuitive pet, Google leads us directly to what we are searching for, valid or not. 

Most concerning to me is how, as Christians, we treat the Bible in the same way—arming ourselves with verses as weapons with which to attack dissenters. In this manner we convince no one, as only those whose beliefs already align with our own will likewise find the information so compelling.

Knowing this, I rarely seek such arguments. They do so much damage and accomplish so little. 

Then I see something posted on social media along these lines:

“Women should not dress so provocatively. Men will be men—they are biologically programmed to be sexually aroused. If you are flaunting your body, you are inviting men to come after your body. How can I teach my sons to respect you if you do not respect yourself enough to cover up?”

I get exceptionally, exquisitely furious. It causes a sadness that I feel deep within my bones. For I know which three specific groups those posts will resonate with. 

1. Others that already believe as the post does. They nod vigorously along, attributing to prudence and moral fortitude that they or their loved ones had not been victims of assault. To their minds, that they had been spared that particular trauma is surely because they had taken more precaution than those unfortunate, though not entirely undeserving, individuals. They tsk and cluck, shaking their heads and praying for decency and good moral values to come back. 
2. Victims, who have already in their shame sought to blame themselves. “If only…” they whisper, folding protectively in on themselves. If only they hadn’t worn that dress, danced that much, drank that drink. There has to be something they did, something they could control because the opposite is too hideous a reality to face—that it was random, they had no control over it, which means there is nothing to stop it from happening again. When it does, who will they have to turn to? Even if you believe them (and why would you?), they now know in your heart of hearts you believe: It is their fault. 
3. Rapists. Words of affirmation that stoke and feed the ugliest part of themselves, softly cooing “you can’t help yourself; it is in your nature. All guys are like this.” That spark is all the encouragement needed, the scaffolding that builds to “I am owed sex—the way she dresses is an offer, and she can’t take it back now. Why do I need to show them respect they don’t even have for themselves?” You didn’t put the thoughts there; you just fueled a fire that was already burning.

I am not compelled by these posts, nor would I ever be—it does not fit within my bias. My bias that states: rape is uncalled for in 100% of cases. There is never a justification or reasoning that will ever excuse non-consensual sexual contact of any form, for any individual. 

There is never an excuse for sexual assault. 

I am sick unto death of having the threat of rape held over me. It is a manipulation tool for weak individuals that rely on tactics of terror to defend their positions. 

Transgendered individuals using your restroom? Men (dressed as ladies) will be waiting in the Target bathroom to rape you. 

Migrant caravan fleeing impoverished countries? Just walked 2500 miles to rape you.

Every boogieman politically dreamt up has one thought on his filthy, depraved mind: forcing himself upon me. 

And who can blame him, the way I’m dressed?

It is awfully strange, don’t you think, that “men can’t help themselves” does not extend to certain demographics when it comes to prosecution? 

Since I was a little girl and first started attracting attention I could not have possibly asked for (being pulled aside at church camp to put a shirt over my one-piece swimsuit during girls-only swim because boys existed elsewhere on the campgrounds), those in authority have made it abundantly clear that it is my job to ensure my own safety. To hear tell, all men are predators—it’s in their biology, they can’t help it after all—waiting only for your precise moment of weakness to attack. So we all learn and stridently follow the rules:

Don’t go to the bathroom alone

Don’t leave your drink unattended

Don’t wear revealing clothing

Don’t show too much skin 

Don’t go anywhere after dark 

Don’t leave your car unlocked 

Don’t dig in your purse in the parking lot

Don’t leave your windows open 

Don’t ride an elevator alone

Don’t go into a parking garage alone

Alone, you are vulnerable. There is nowhere you are safe. No one can be trusted. 

I have spent so much time in my life being afraid: afraid that I was going to be assaulted, then that my children would be. It has been drilled through my head for decades: if you are diligent enough, you can avert a hideous (but preventable!) tragedy.

Even if the basic premise does not hold up to scrutiny.

Rape is not a modern invention. It has happened throughout the ages, through every fashion trend—when women wore hemlines to their knees (and older generations were scandalized that girls bared so much leg) and when they wore jeans (and not skirts, like decent young ladies). It was a thing in Victorian Times to ladies that were covered from neck to ankle and in Biblical times adorned in robes. As far as we can tell, it has always happened.

It happens in every culture, regardless of clothing norms. It does not exclusively, or even predominantly, occur where women have been dressing “immodestly”, a vague and subjective attribution. 

If I entertain the notion, even for a second, that the manner in which an individual dresses could warrant a sexual attack, it opens the door to other, more troubling co-conspirators: 

Can a child that endures molestation be accused of inciting the response? That perhaps they exposed too much skin, wore something a little too tight, because after all, predators can’t help themselves, can they? 

If that, too, is the case, that it is a biological imperative that cannot be restrained or overcome, I must then wrestle with the idea: every man I have ever known either is or will be a rapist.

Most men have been exposed to the same temptation, seen the same provocative imagery. Many have been in a situation with a vulnerable individual that could have been, through persuasion of superior strength, coaxed into a more sexual position. When presented with this scenario, either they have the ability, the free will to choose to walk away, or they simply do not. With the presumption that men cannot help themselves, the illusion of choice is nonexistent and assault will happen in every case. 

If this is reality, I must accept not only the burden of protecting myself and my children from being attacked, but also in guarding my husband and boys from attacking others, as is their nature to do.

While we are on the subject: how do we reason our way into stating that men are biologically unable to overcome their sexual urges when presented with a tantalizing body while simultaneously telling homosexual men that their urges are unnatural and must be suppressed, repressed, and reprogrammed? 

Does having a biological basis for a desire give it automatic free pass to be fulfilled?

I refuse to have the threat of sexual assault held over me. Through pseudo-“insightful” posts blaming victims for provocation I can safely assume that were it to happen to me, I likely would receive no sympathy or support. In the unlikely event it made it to court, every part of me would be dissected to determine exactly how and why I had it coming, whether I wore certain underpants or smiled in a particular manner or even if I had the audacity to enjoy consensual sex with others. If too much time had passed, I would be berated for bringing up this man’s past; if it was recent, they would implore me to think about his future. How could I let this moment of pleasure (for him, though surely I enjoyed it at least a little, too?) ruin this individual's prospects when one day he might be a Supreme Court Justice.

Or even President.

Who knows: maybe I’ll get lucky and the attacker will be someone that we can politicize, the face for the real monsters out there, one that doesn’t look quite so much like ours.

Wouldn’t that be nice?

—Andie 

Break My Heart for What Breaks Yours

I have been wrong.


It is in my nature to observe and listen, to gather more information before speaking. The more I learn on a subject, the less I feel qualified to speak—what could I possibly offer to the conversation besides more ignorance, another voice in crowd screaming out into the abyss? There is no wisdom here, no expertise. Surely there are better, older, wiser, smarter, more eloquent individuals than I to address these issues.



I have hidden behind cowardice disguised as humility.



No one feels qualified. Moses said, “Please, Lord, I have never been eloquent, neither recently nor in time past, nor since You have spoken to Your servant; for I am slow of speech and slow of tongue.”
‭‭(Exodus‬ ‭4:10‬ ‭NASB‬). Even now the nagging, sinful insistence in my head rebels against this: does your arrogance know no bounds, Andra? Comparing yourself to the great biblical father MOSES? It is not lost on me that when I felt compelled to write this, to finally speak, God lead me directly to the chapter and verse where He replied to Moses then and to me now:  “Who has made man’s mouth? Or who makes him mute or deaf, or seeing or blind? Is it not I, the LORD?” ‭‭(Exodus‬ ‭4:11‬ ‭NASB‬‬). I pray now that the Lord will be, too, with my mouth and teach me what to say. And I once again implore Him:



Break my heart for what breaks Yours.



The disquiet in our souls after these past few weeks were by divine design. We know that what is happening in the United States and in the world is not what God intended for us. Jesus came to conquer sin and death and it has settled over us all, stifling and oppressive until we cannot move from it, cannot breathe.



“I can’t breathe.”

Why did it take this long for us to hear the voices? How much longer will it take us to act?



I did not watch the video of George Floyd. In all media I consume, I am as deliberate (if not more) in what I ingest mentally and spiritually as I am in what I put in my body. I know that violence weighs heavily on my soul in such a visceral manner—my stomach churns until I feel physically ill, my temples throb with the pulse of the memory replaying again and again to the beat, imprinting itself deeply upon my psyche. God is doing once again what I have asked: He’s breaking my heart. Because I can say with all conviction that our Father, our Creator is damaged this week, and He demands that we not look away.



For too long we have couched our responses. We have justified violation of God’s Law, one of the commands He deemed important enough to write down (twice) and say countless times:



Thou shalt not murder.



Jesus both expounded and simplified this concept by saying “And the second is like unto it, Thou shalt love thy neighbour as thyself. On these two commandments hang all the law and the prophets.” (Matthew 22: 39-40 KJV). Yet somehow we dream up the most stunningly obtuse of justifications, from unrelated violations of human law in the past, to trying to sympathize with the fear the perpetrator must have felt (though we know we were not given a spirit of fear, but of power and love--2 Timothy 1:7). Anything to soothe our troubled spirits from feeling the unease that a lifetime of biblical teachings and the Holy Spirit stirs inside each of us. Until someone so above reproach had to die in such a painful, humiliating, and public fashion that even the staunchest defenders among us have nothing left to offer.


The silence amid the tempest has been particularly deafening. Mine own included.


Now the only responses our battered hearts can offer up are feeble even to our own ears. “Rioting and looting are never justified.” When you hurt someone, you don’t get to judge how they react in their hurt. And make no mistake, we allowed this hurt to occur. Again and again and again as we made our excuses and criticized how they protested, how politely and peacefully they requested justice. We allowed it to fall on deaf ears for years. How unspeakably horrible is that? Voices crying out to the God of Justice to be delivered from His own people, and we have the audacity to fuss about the manner in which they do it? The level of presumption is truly breathtaking.


“Not all cops...”


Well of course not all police officers. We aren’t discussing all law enforcement just as we are not discussing every life, every murder, every individual on the planet; just in the same way, we are speaking precisely of that. Every human life has value to God the Father and deserves honor because He demands it. He does not plead with us, He commands it—how yet do we still feel compelled to argue with it? It isn’t even anything as nebulous as an embryo. The lives we are discussing are fully actualized black men and women begging us on behalf of the Father we share to grant them the privilege of living. Should we never be so damnably arrogant, so condemnably elevated in our own esteem that we believe we have authority over such matters as life and death.


God is angry. And He is hurting. He is furious with how long we have let this go on, how long we have tolerated injustice in this world. Perhaps not all police officers, but how many? How many is too many? Do we have a number? And how does that percentage stand up to how harshly and swiftly we condemn other groups on the sins of the few?


There is no party of “law and order”, because as Christians we are beholden to the Law of God, and through such we have shaped and are shaping the laws of the land. Like us, society is meant to learn and to grow—the Bible is a meditative text for a reason. It is a living, ongoing gospel that we could not possibly ken from one skim, a one and done checklist. We are meant to go back over it time and again, discovering intention and meaning with every visit.


And yet some concepts God put so unambiguously, so heavy and bluntly that there is no room for interpretation, misunderstanding, or argument:


Thou shalt not kill.


Cycles of destruction and rebirth are kind of a theme in the Bible. We see nations rise and fall only to rise again, a sort of purification through fire—we are refining ourselves as individuals and as a group. Each time letting a little more of the unholiness of our sinful humanity fall away so we are just that much closer back to the original relationship God intended for us. Do not mistake the groans from the pains of childbirth, for He is using this for His glory, to give birth to a new creation in us, hopefully a little less damaged, less broken, less marred by sin.


I worry I am not making any sense. That my words are crazy or rambling. I am no prophet; I won’t be cutting off my beard to burn or attack with a sword, though I could see myself laying on one side for a few years. Maybe if I do, I could speed run through this catastrophe of a year and come out on the other side. It certainly sounds easier than enduring this God-awful heartbreak.


If we speak in truth, we have nothing to fear for God is with us. Men will condemn you. Speak anyway.


Speak out for justice. Speak out for the voiceless. Speak out from your positions of privilege, in knowing God through Christ Jesus the son, in calling yourself followers of Christ. Cry out, let your voice be heard among the many and demand better of the world. Father, please we beg You:


Break our heart for what breaks Yours.

--Andie