Upside-down kingdom

Partially nude bikini shot? #Blessed. Christmas card professional photoshoot where the laughing family wearing matching chambray shirts is piled on a couch in the middle of a wheat field? #Blessed. (Did I recently see a bazillion dollar yacht christened with the name “2 Blessed 2 Be Stressed”? Yes. Yes I did.)

A decade ago I wrote a historical account of the modern American idea that, with the right kind of faith, we can get what we deserve. I titled the book Blessed, not knowing that #blessed would become one of the most popular hashtags on Instagram. #Blessed would be cross-stitched on pillows, hand-lettered in whimsical fonts for living rooms, and tattooed into the tender skin of so many forearms. It is the catchphrase of the self-help age.

American culture has enduring theories about what makes someone successful, enviable, and whole. Much of this stems from its understanding of being #blessed. In this account, a blessed person has conquered difficult circumstances, mastered emotions, and overcome obstacles. A blessed person expresses gratitude to others but secretly understands that she deserves the good fortune she has earned. A blessed person is that perfect combination of luck and hard work.

But so often, we are not #blessed. Instead, we need a blessing.

What happens when our lives are proof of very little except that things have come apart? We get divorced. We get diagnosed. We care for an aging parent or little humans clamoring for our last bit of energy. We want to feel masterful and loving and complete, but we are threadbare.

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