Plato's Cave

Just started a new book, Homesick for Eden. In the first chapter, in order to set up his premise, the author refers to a video he saw in seminary, Plato's Cave. Mind you, this is a video that his instructor has to set up a reel to reel projector to show. Yet, by the miracle of the internet, I was able to find it in seconds on YouTube. A million thanks to whoever took the time and had the skill to convert this old video made of a conversation from Plato's Republic.

I found it to be a powerful allegory of the spiritual life. For now, I'll post it without comment. Share your thoughts and reactions with me; more on this video will definitely follow.

Merry Christmas.

New Math

One of the unique ways that God has crafted me is that He made me a mathematician. Good at sorting through all the information and constructing an argument or proof. Back in the day (wow, I am getting old), all it would take is a walk across campus for the seemingly disconnected pieces to fall together. I'd have a study group just so I could talk through problems, and people would come because someone always wants the answers. They'll even listen to a pretty geeky guy who thought he was cool to get them.

It's taken me awhile to see how God may want to use my mathematical background as part of my calling. I'm starting to get a glimmer of that. How those pieces fall together will be for another blog.

But what got me thinking math was a line I heard while listening to a podcast about living the spiritual life. It was said that this spiritual journey we are on has much more to do with subtraction than with addition. New math never made more sense.

Addition is about climbing up. About making ourselves worthy before God. Really being in control of our own spiritual life. Boiled down to its essence - addition is about playing god. So the fruit becomes busyness. Adding things to our spiritual repertoire. Going to groups, serving in ministries, working our way up the ladder to being a leader of some sort.

While it may lead to missing our calling, that does not matter. In the addition paradigm you will not be judged by what your calling was, but by how you perform. Worth is based on output. "How good am I?" becomes the mantra and that leads to a spiritual life without the spirit. Seeking approval, comparing ourselves to others, constantly striving to measure up to someone else's standards or expectations.

It also means that we can't bear with those who are not performing. There becomes a spiritual Darwinism. Survival of the spiritually fittest. We fear that such people may hold us back or drag us down, so they end up getting lip service, a pat on the back, and advice amounting to a charge to just live the spiritual life better. So when you have issues, questions, struggles that may arise from beginning a journey inward, we repel them thinking we are doing something wrong. We become whitewashed tombs. I know this well. All to well. That was the spiritual world I was immersed in and helped to propagate.

Subtraction is so counter cultural. Almost illogical. Progress spiritually is made by taking away. We call it letting go, or trust, or surrender. Whatever the terminology, it is marked by the absolute absence of our striving. Surrendering the way to God, rather than making it ourselves. Subtraction is anything but easy. In fact, the first steps required, those of the inward journey are so tough that I'd say most never attempt it.

It is trusting that God loves us even when our circumstances would have us believe otherwise. It is surrendering to the journey no matter how much we may want to avoid what we find. Letting God be responsible for the results as we take on the role of faithfulness. It is a submission to love.

While we talk a good game, subtraction means that we have to believe that we don't achieve God by doing holy things. God has made himself known to us. At no point do we have to start proving ourselves to him or showing how worthy we are. Nothing makes us merit his favor more than we already do by simply existing, by being the being creating in His image that He loves without bound.

If I want to be pleasing to the Father, then I must simply be still and know that He IS God. Everything else will flow from that truth. Desire for God, for truth, for justice, gratitude, service, calling...everything comes from Him. Subtracting ourselves. That is what conforming looks like in the kingdom. Not adding in new things to look the part, but subtracting to reveal what God planted in us when we were created in His image.

Despite his huge following, popularity, and status as a prophet, John the Baptist knew this to be true. I'll leave you with his words of the spiritual life of subtraction...

He must become greater; I must become less.

- John 3:30

Voyage of Sovereignty

The family went to see the latest tale of Narnia at the movie theater this afternoon - The Voyage of the Dawn Treader. For a movie adaptation, it was OK. It is understandable that they had to chop the tale up in order to fit it into an under two hour feature.

But the film did remind me of the story that I had read to my daughter some time ago. It is so much a story about God's sovereignty. About how He puts you in circumstances where you have the opportunity to face your true self. Where you are able to become less so that He can become more.

That is the story of pursuing God. Facing your true self, your root sins, core fears, and motivating desires and allowing God to do the (often painful) work of cutting away and shaping into the image of Christ.

God is very intentional about doing this - sovereignly - working all things, orchestrating events, knowing the outcome even when it all seems so unknown to us. And that is what happens for the three children who enter Narnia. There are things they each must face, lessons to learn, and a literal voyage for them to make. Aslan (Jesus) knows the outcome when He brings them through the picture. He's the alpha and omega, after all, knowing both the beginning and the end. Time unfolds in a straight line for us, but that is neither God's limitation nor concern.

Most explicitly this process happens for Eustace who must face the brokenness and division that his selfishness brings. First relationally with his cousins and citizens of Narnia, but also tangibly as his hording selfishness turns him into a dragon. Painful, humiliating, demoralizing, lonely...but necessary for him to cede that it is out of his own power to change. He must let the Lion dig deep within him in order to expose what is most hidden...his true self. Only when his true self encounters the living God can he be changed and love those around them. Only after the painful pruning process can he be comfortable in his own skin. Only after being a dragon can he realize that Aslan thought he was beautiful all along.

I love this part of the book best. If only the movie had done this 'conversion' scene justice.

God knows the outcome of my life too. I can't see it. All I have is the present, colored by the perspective of the past and my hope for the future. But I do trust that He's got me in exactly the place that is going to help me face my pride, false expectations, fears, and earthly perspective.

The past couple weeks, things have been rough around the house. Chock it up to all the change going on. Doesn't change how tough and painful and lonely the journey can be. In some ways, my wife seems worse with me around, like I am bad for her helping only to unsettle her and cause her anxiety that she has to allay. It seems that however I press into her, wall after wall goes up. Like I am inhibiting her progress.

I actually asked God why He wanted me here. It was not a question of regret. Not a question of uncertainty. It was just an honest 'why'. God, help me to see the big picture that you see. And His answer spoke of His sovereignty. I'm here because He has made me to handle the situation. In addition to how He's continuing to form me spiritually, He crafted me to be able to grow in a time like this. He knows the end result.

That's important because He also told me that it's not just for me that He had me return. It's for my wife. Her discomfort is the very thing that she must face at this stage of her journey. Seems that rather than inhibiting progress, I am essential for it. I am the circumstance she needs to compel her on her journey inward.

That's sovereignty. God sees the end. He has all the components in place to make that end a reality. And He does it out of His perfect love for us.

Indigestion

When my daughter was much younger, we used to be consumed by the four man children's group The Wiggles. We owned every one of their albums and videos. Three years in a row we went to their concerts when they passed through the area. (I am convinced the last year had nothing to do with my daughter and everything to do with my wife's love for the group.) The Wiggles all wore different color outfits and one year we all made our own shirts, one of each color, with home made iron-on decals on the front. I'd show you the picture, but then it'd go viral, I'm pretty sure.

One of the members of the group loved to eat. That was his special ability. (He was also the thinnest member, how was that possible?) His theme song started with the words "Food, food, wonderful food, to eat forever is my favorite wish!" How lovable. Unless desire for food becomes more than just enjoying the flavors and smells.

I am overweight. Always have been. Husky. I carry it fairly well, can perform in athletics, but it is becoming more and more evident to my belt. As for food, I do love the taste. Yet, I have also always noticed that in times of relational stress or dissatisfaction that I tend to load up on the sweets, crackers and chips. Like a high-carb nervous habit.

Recently, as part of my journey inward, I took a spiritual inventory. It summed me up pretty good. Almost too good; I do hate to be typecast. While I was reading the brief outline of characteristics of my type (and feeling like I was reading some of my blog posts) I happened to notice a link to "common addictions for your type". Not really feeling like I'm given to an addition (I'm not in a 12 step program after all), I clicked the link just so I could prove to myself that I wasn't completely predictable. Here's what it said...

Abusing food and over-the-counter medications. Bingeing, especially on sweets and carbohydrates. Over-eating from feeling "love-starved."

I almost spit the Parmesan cheese crackers out of my mouth that I was eating (Pepperidge farms makes these amazing crackers with Italian herbs and four cheeses on them....oh wait, hang on, trying NOT to be predictable here). Now, while over-the-counter meds are not my thing (and I shall definitely be avoiding them), the rest is dead on bull's eye. I abuse food, primarily when I feel love starved. Which has been often. So I've been on this weight roller coaster. I manage to lose some, but my relational system has not changed, so they come back (and bring friends, just like demons).

This has been an amazing internal realization for me. There is a tangible parallel between my emotional well being and my weight. God's timing in this realization is so completely perfect.

With my spiritual advisor last week, we were talking about relationships as I approach the time of coming out of the desert. She observed that God has used this time to carve out a large empty space within me and queried as to how I was going to fill it. In the last year and a half I've carefully laid a foundation of God within this space. Reserving it for Him, a place for He and I to meet.

It is with caution that I need to get back into the swing of ministry. After the extended time of fasting, it would be almost expected to gorge. To try to be the friend of everyone, to try to prove myself to anyone who would notice - to take a step back into my former people-pleasing ways.

When I was describing this to my advisor, before any of this addiction to carbs chatter started, I used the image of having the choice of two plates - one filled with french fries, and the other a heaping salad - the former filled with the things that will satisfy only briefly and the latter filled with the things of God. Literally, the image I used was a foreshadow of our conversation later.

Carbs are easily digestible. They feel good; they give an instant kick; they feel comfortable. But carbs don't nourish and they don't satisfy. In fact, when I eat a bunch of fries or crackers or m&m cookies, I only want more. That is such a picture of the people-pleaser. People's affirmation doesn't nourish the soul. Pleasing people doesn't last. It is a cycle of having to work harder to receive less and less, of eating more and more to quiet the loveless feeling.

The bridge here is my spiritual life. As I alluded to earlier, the timing of this realization is perfect (well, it is Christmas and there are lots of cookies, so it is big picture perfect). My craving for sweets can function as a thermometer for my feelings of love. A 'love-meter' of sorts. I can use those moments to remind myself that God loves me, Jesus died for me, the Spirit lives in me. In my weakness, God can be strong. I can continue to fill myself with the things of God rather than the images of love and approval that are the world's and won't last.

Am I filling up with the things of God or the Salad can be a spiritual reminder! The truth is that my relational system IS different. If for no other reason than I am different. But, it is still good to have a reminder of the discipline it takes to make good choices - with food, relationally, and spiritually. But, God's grace gets to shine through, because when I slip and eat a chocolate covered caramel Santa, I know that God still loves no matter how I perform. Grace and effort in tension. Grace will win every time.

Flying High

We went to the Bahamas for Thanksgiving this year. My parents have a timeshare, and in their generosity (or as my dad says, we are looking to spend your inheritance) they invited us to join them for the holiday. There were a couple short flights involved in making the trek down.

Flying for me is a matter of the mind. I start to think about the reality of being in a small metallic tube 5 miles in the sky. I wonder if the nice man who riveted the wing onto the fuselage was have a good day being fulfilled in his work or if he had somewhere to be when the whistle blew. And I know just enough about statics to be aware of the tensile strength of metal, but not enough to actually know what affects it. Air, while we cannot see it and take if for granted, is amazingly powerful.

With my mind filled with these thoughts, I can get a little jumpy during turbulence.

(A couple years ago, flying out of Vancouver, we fell several thousand feet during some extremely rough turbulence. During our ride, my daughter, who was six at the time, commented with laughter in her voice "this is just like a roller coaster!" I'd just finished screaming like a little girl and with my hand gripping the seat in front of me (like that'd do any good) I responded, "oh yes, just like a roller coaster." I wanted to be her pillar of strength.)

So, we were taking off on the first flight this Thanksgiving and I was starting my routine of over thinking when I had this thought, which I am attributing to the Holy Spirit...

What is different being on this plane as opposed to in a car or sitting at my cubicle at work or watching TV on the sofa with my wife? You may think me thick and say that the difference is quite obvious, you can see the ground in those latter scenarios. But really, there is no difference. My life is in the hands of an ever present, all knowing, omnipotent God in every event. Beckons the question: is my trust for God based on my perceived control in a given situation?

The Holy Spirit was reminding me that sitting on a plane is no different than sitting on my couch. My days are numbered by God, they are known in advance by Him, and no amount of couch sitting or redundancy built into a Boeing 737 will alter that one bit.

Trusting has to be based on the realization of what is out of my control, and letting God do His thing. Not paying lip service to trust, then building my own security. Living in the every day knowledge that God knows my needs and can take care of them at 32,000 feet just as easily as He can at sea level. My job is to keep my lamp lit and delight in His abundant love.

Lesson learned.

A Lesson from Father Abraham

I did not grow up in children's ministry and youth group. So, I missed out on felt boards and campfire songs among other things. When my daughter was two, we did not want her to experience the same deficit, so we bought a sing-a-long video of cheesy Christian songs. Great things about these songs is that, while they bring the cheese, they help you remember Bible stuff because you can't get the tune out of your head no matter how hard you try.

One of those songs was about Father Abraham. It goes "Father Abraham had many sons, many sons had Father Abraham, I am one of them, and so are you, so let's all praise the Lord." Then a body part would be called out like you were doing the hokie pokie, and the whole process would be started over. All of this highlights that Abraham is our spiritual father. No forgetting that.

Indeed, Genesis relates to us that God credited Abraham's (at the time Abram, I know) faith as righteousness. For many of us, that's where we think the story ends - there aren't any other verses of the song, right. Abraham became a pillar of the faith and lived a life of perfection because he is, after all, our spiritual father. If that's all we see, then we're missing the best part of the story.

A couple weekends ago, I had the opportunity to teach out of Genesis 17. Abram sins. Big time. Tries to make God's promises come to fruition. That's the thing about God, He gets touchy about his promises - if He makes them, then He's taking responsibility for them and our best efforts are to not get in the way. But Abram did get in the way and God let Abram stew in it for 13 years.

When God comes on the scene, first thing he says is for Abram to "walk before me and be blameless". Most I have read about this interpret the statement to mean that God wants Abram to do a better job obeying. He needs to be perfect. I disagree. God knows that is impossible.

This statement to Abram was an invitation. An invitation to come back. God was saying, "Abram, you screwed this up, you didn't listen and were impatient. You didn't trust me. But I love you. Come back. It was your faith and trust in me that made you righteous, see what happens when you wander away. Now come back and be perfect." God is extending grace to a sinner. Not the first time, and most definitely not the last.

God is extending grace. That offer does not stop once we enter our covenant with Him. This is something that I see Christians get wrong so often. We seem willing to accept the initial offer of grace, of the gift of Jesus, but somewhere along the line we feel like we have to begin to earn the favor of God. As if now that we are in the relationship we have to now earn God's continued love. Or, like Abram, we feel like we have to cover God's bases.

The life of a Christ follower seems to be one of tensions. There are two ways to tread on God's grace. We can just not care, determine that God is going to forgive us anyway, and do what we want. Disposable grace.

The other end of the spectrum is to feel like grace is not good enough. God needs help. So we have to look the part. Wear the mask. Act like we think God wants. Insufficient grace.

That second one was me. I KNEW about grace. I could tell people, quite convincingly, about God's grace. But I was effectively living as if that was not enough. God needed help. Thing is, if you are treading on God's grace, if you are living it out of balance, on one end of the spectrum or the other, it is going to blow up on you. For me I could not wear the mask any longer. Too tight. Too suffocating. Too frustrating that nothing was working. Too exhausting trying to make my own way.

Here's the thing, when God appeared to Abram, He already knew. You can't hide from the Eternal One. He knew what Abram would do when He made the original covenant with him. None of this was a surprise. Maybe it was a necessary part of Abram's learning to trust. Bowing on his face realizing he had just blown everything, expecting a firm rebuke, but instead getting an invitation to grace. Reading a little further in Genesis 17, God says "I have made you the father of many nations", it is already done. Your screw up does not change my plan.

That's my path and what I've learned about grace. I gave up everything. I was stupid and doing my own thing. Hacking my own path with a dull machete instead of walking the path Christ had already cut out. But God invited me back, to walk before Him and be perfect. Reminding me, or teaching me, to trust. Grace restores.

This experience of restoring grace is not unique to Abraham. It is my experience as well. My time in the desert is almost over. God is choosing to confirm my calling and restore my vocational ministry. It would be interesting to have God's foreknowledge and know now what He has made through me. Not until heaven.

My experience of grace has been humbling. Every step. I'm not perfect, nor will I be. (Abraham wasn't read on in Genesis). But I'm trusting, and that is exactly what God wants - for me to walk before Him so I can be perfect.

Love Is a Battlefield

Pat Benatar penned a song with those lyrics. In her song, she is talking about young lovers standing together against the heartaches of life. You can sense the desperation of her tone when you hear the song, almost like she is living in the anticipation that eventually something will come along to drive them apart.

Love being a battlefield reminds me of the church. If I am going to be completely honest with you, reader, then I have to say that through my experience of the last year, having to rely on God, having lost everything and being slowly restored, - like biblical Job or what the mystics would call having an experience of the Paschal Mystery - I can say that I truly understand the grace of God. My experience with it has been personal and life changing.

Before all of this I would have said that I understood grace. I would have been able to present God's grace to someone in a compelling way. (God's Riches At Christ's Expense! How clever!) But, I don't think lived my own spiritual life, or many times my interactions with people, in the authentic understanding of grace. Rather than believing that God loves me so that I can change, I effectively believed that God will love me if I change. Often, my treatment of people, or lack of compassion for them, what guided by this belief.

Brennan Manning has observed that the "church has become a wounder of the healers rather than a healer of the wounded." From my own experiences both given and received, this seems largely accurate. Richard Rohr notes it this way, that the majority of religion is more concerned with rituals, moralities, and group conformity rather than knowing ourselves and how the self that was created by God can relate to Him. So we tell people Jesus is the answer (which of course He is, but we leave it very nebulous what that means practically, probably because most don't know themselves), sin no more, get in a Bible study, and serve somewhere. That becomes the entry into the spiritual battle of most.

Love is a battlefield.

The spiritual life is a battle. Jesus demonstrated that. The Bible pictures it. Yet I think it is something the church forgets. Forgets that in a battle there are casualties. No one's spiritual path is going to be without hurts or setbacks. That is the reality of living in a fallen world and coming up against an enemy that rages to take as many as he can to their doom.

So on our battlefield, we shoot our own. Offering condemnation and arrogance. On our battlefield, we leave our wounded. Obviously they were not authentic or else they wouldn't have struggled and fallen. The body is supposed to offer comfort from the comfort we've received. God freely offers his grace and mercy and we are to do likewise.

I've always taken the teaching that "if anyone gives even a cup of cold water to one of these little ones who is my disciple, truly I tell you, that person will certainly not lose their reward" as literal water. I'm sure that is true. But is it possible that Jesus is talking about the living water of himself, his refreshing grace and his comforting mercy that we are also to offer his disciples? Certainly that is a legitimate possibility.

Living in the grace of God is changing my view of people and what they need, and I hope to be able to pass that perspective on to others as they walk their own journey and participate in the spiritual battle.

Thank you God for your never ending grace that has been greater than all the approval that I could receive from pleasing others. It has helped me break free of the bondage and lies of my fears. It has helped me not to be overcome by the awareness of my core sin, but to use that awareness to admit my dependency on the One Who Is Greater. It compels me to not repeat the patterns of my relational system. Grace is guiding me to strength and greater trust in the Most High. It is leading me on my journey toward living the life of love. All for Jesus.

In With the New

There is another apt episode of Seinfeld that comes to mind. Jerry is dating a woman who encourages him to express his emotions, particularly his anger. This is particularly tricky since Jerry is an 'even steven', never too far up, never too far down - usually just right in the middle. So, Jerry gets angry at his girlfriend's pestering. "That felt good" he said, and then the flow of emotions started.

He told Elaine that he loved her. Told George he was a good friend. Cried during a TV show while asking "what is this salty discharge coming out of my eyes?" Jerry went over the top with this new found skill. With the same girlfriend that wanted him to express himself, he started getting angry about every little thing. Ironically, she got tired of his constant expression of emotion and left Jerry.

He just didn't know what to do with his anger.

That's the challenge for the recovering passive guy. Well, at least this recovering passive guy. I've been told that I shouldn't dismiss my anger. That I need to feel it, process it, and then move on from it. My first reaction is that I don't want to be a husband that leads by intimidation or threat. I don't want to be a wife beater. In response (after the laughter), I was told that there is a long way from me even carrying my anger too far to being an abusive spouse. Not likely to happen.

Expressing my anger is a tough new challenge. Being angry upsets people. Being angry is confrontational. Being angry will require taking your mask off and letting people see the real you. But, no one ever got hurt being upset and I'm all about living mask-free, so I now allow myself to express my anger. But it is awkward.

My wife doesn't know what to do. She's been dealing with a people pleaser for 15 years and now she has to deal with someone with an opinion, who is not going to be pushed aside and dismissed. Someone who is now putting on the mantle of leadership and not just striving for the absence of conflict. It is a tough adjustment for her as well as me. One that is often hard for me to keep in mind - she has a new reality.

My trouble at this moment is that I don't know what to do with my anger. While I am experiencing it I don't know how to put it aside in order to sort through the conflict in a constructive way. It is hard for me to, in the midst of my anger, to confront the emotions that my wife is dealing with. This is my latest test on the strength journey. Can I put her needs above my own in the moment.

This is like having driving an automatic for your whole life, then having to learn to drive a stick. Changing gears. It's a better way to drive, better performance, better mileage, but it is tough to learn to change the gears at appropriate times (much less stop at a red light facing uphill!). I'll learn and I'll be NASCAR good at it, but for the moment it is very awkward and difficult.

Paint By Numbers

I am really not much of an artist. Either I have no skill in this area or have long since stopped trying to develop it. In 5th grade, my art teacher refused to put my project made of clay in the kiln, she felt it was just so bad that it was not worth the 'waste' of clay. Go figure, mom went without a clay toothbrush holder.

As I ponder how difficult is is for me to be artistic, it causes me to get annoyed at the dude on PBS I used to watch in high school who would create this beautiful and majestic mountain scene using nothing but a putty knife. Now that is deflating.

My one successful art memory that I have is a paint-by-numbers that I got for Christmas when I was probably around seven or eight. Painting is actually pretty fun. The image of the completed painting is etched in my memory. It was a tiger staring at you through tree leaves. The colors of the tiger contrasting nicely with those of the tree. Here is the problem with paint-by-numbers projects - it simply requires that you know colors and number and can pair them up. So none of the colors blend together, it is just a hodge podge of swirls, with each color distinct from its neighbor. Even though you knew it was a tiger, it had a lot of streaks in various shaded of yellow.

This is kind of like the picture of God that I had painted through my life. And it is possibly the most major change that I have had to make, peeling the layers and painting a new picture. If it's not the most major change, it is at least the most fundamental. Other changes within me would not be possible without painting a new picture.

I knew things about God. For other people, I could help them blend and understand, pointing their hearts in the right direction. To me that is so ironic. But in my life, everything remained distinct. My experience of God was painting by numbers, it was academic with very little heart, very little of myself, which is required of a real artist.

Not that heartless followship is what I wanted or thought was right, but I struggled to trust because of my poorly formed portrait of God. In my reckoning, God's attributes had no blending or relationship to each other. Yes I knew God loved me, but I held that distinct from His grace and mercy. I knew God forms us, sanctifies us, but I held that distinct from my own efforts. I knew this world has trials, but again, it was distinct from his love. Really, I could go on and on about how I had painted the wrong picture for myself.

Bottom line, love was based on performance. It could be lost or decreased depending upon your behavior. Not only with God, this perspective influenced how I gave and received love in all my relationships. Starting over required a new picture, no numbers to paint with.

Part of it required realizing that in coming, Jesus painted a picture of God that we could understand. He became the image of the invisible God, as Paul wrote to the Colossians. A verse that I understand in a new way. Look to Jesus. Because of his flesh, He understands frustration, rejection, and loneliness. For some reason I had tried to brush those things off, rather than embracing them as giving me the opportunity to walk the same road as my Savior.

Jesus loves his disciples regardless of their performance. Success or failure, His love did not waiver. It is not our performance that God is impressed by, it is the level of our trust. While I knew I was saved by grace, I was still caught in the trap of trying to merit God's favor. Rather than delighting in God, reaching for Jesus living inside of me, offering God my stillness, I was bent on becoming indispensable to God. Instead of ferreting out my root sin (which would indicate weakness and failure), I tried to hide it like Adam and Eve covering up with fig leaves. Like God doesn't know the truth.

Following Christ is not a role to play properly, it is a life dedicated to trust. Accepting His promises and realizing that He will come through on all of them, often despite our efforts. Trust means that there will be times of failure, letting God and others down, but that is what grace is all about. Trust is realizing that God wants to delight in my love for Him just as much as He wants me to delight in His for me. Trusting means yielding to the Spirit of Jesus living in me, allowing Him to know and develop my true self. That is my picture of God.

The Empty (inner) Circle

One of the things that I think God is directing me toward is working with church staffs. This is probably a long range plan, but I feel like I have learned an amazing amount about leadership and relationship systems that can be of help to those who maybe have not stepped back to examine themselves, their position in the leadership structure, and the stresses they endure and cause.

So just one element that I have to offer is a relational systems evaluation. My first question would be for each staff member/leader to tell me about their closest relationships. The quality of our inner circle relationships is a key foundation for successfully enduring the unique rigors of church leadership and pastoring. We need connection. An outlet. Support and comfort. Sadly, by the time all was said and done with regard to the collapse of my world, my inner circle was completely empty and that hastened the fall.

Some of the emptying was done for me. My wife and I had no connection. She had distanced herself from me and I had stopped trying. The person in the world that I would want to describe as my best friend, my supporter through thick and thin, was instead the person that I felt the most distance with. Rather than being able to offer support and guidance through the crests and troughs of ministry, my sharing sounded more and more like whining filling her with bitterness and resentment toward my job. This resentment was compounded by the fact that it was to my job that I turned more and more of my attention as the distance between us became greater.

Most of the empty inner circle was because of me. Pride is my root sin. In my relationships that expresses itself as a fear of rejection. A fear that if someone knew the real me, my real struggles, the real condition of parts of my life then they would certainly reject me. So I wore my "I'm fine" mask. Acted like everything was great all the time. If questions were asked, I became very adept at deflecting them. Turning conversations to the other. Listen and people will talk to you. That's not a bad thing until you start using it as a defense mechanism.

What I would look for in any pastor's answer to my question would be the proximity of the relationships to the workplace. It is not a bad thing to have some of your close relationships in the office. In fact, it is likely to happen, especially in an arena as relationally focused as church work. Yet, if that is the only basket that you have all your relational eggs in, that is a danger. Where do you go for an outside perspective of your system. To whom do you have relational freedom to talk about your trials without it being seen as interoffice gossip.

That was my problem. Every one of my close relationships was a church leader. Some who evaluated my performance and to whom I reported to. Truth is, I did make an attempt to reach out and share my marital struggles to one in my inner circle. This is where the pain of someone knowing my weakness was less than the pain of going on without help. So I reached out to one of the elders to whom I was close. Told him what was going on. Asked if his wife could reach out to mine. He did do that, but at the same time, he shared my struggle at an elder meeting and suggested that I was unfit to be a pastor.

Rather than an offer to walk alongside me, possibly even to mentor me as a husband or help me with my ability to perceive what I was contributing to the dysfunction of my marital system, rather than any of that my issues were shared with a large group of leaders. Looking back, even worse, no one did come to talk with me about it. It was kind of shoved under the rug and I was happy for it. There seemed to be a lack of wisdom or desire to confront me and help me.

In my state of unhealthy spirituality, the effect of that action on me was for me to revoke trust for any of my inner circle. I universalized. I became fearful of losing my job. I did not see the potential benefit that some light could shed on my situation. I'm not even sure the system that I was functioning in was capable of that sort of spiritual intervention. In that assessment I may be wrong, but it would explain why the question on the table was whether or not I should work there rather than what could we do to help.

Be that as it may, I am not attempting to transfer the blame for my actions to someone else or to some other group. The choices were mine and I take full responsibility for them. The fault is mine for not displaying wisdom in the variety of relationships I maintained. For believing the lie of the enemy and succumbing to my pride. For not trusting God and His promises.

But this is the sort of dynamic I would be looking for. Who is in your inner circle? Who do you reveal yourself to? Is there someone in your life who can ask you anything and will know if you are blowing smoke? What is the leadership system like where you are pastoring? Getting this right is a part of success that will last.

Finishing the Edge of the Puzzle

I am not much of a puzzle builder. Takes far too much patience. I really like activities in which progress is steady and noticeable, not hunting for something that may or may not have the color/pattern/shape/shading that you are looking for only to be continually disappointed when things don't fit. The one part of the process that I did enjoy was the edge. As a kid, I was good at sorting through, finding all the flat pieces and building the frame. Progress. Then I'd leave the interior for my mom and sister.

On my spiritual journey, I am sometimes forlorn that progress in me is not quicker. More noticeable to me. That I am still so bad at being a husband and abandoning my passivity. A friend of my, in a moment of encouragement that worked, told me that I am like a person who has been miraculously spared from a medical condition, like a stroke. Now, though, I am doing the tough, painful, exhausting job of rehabilitation. Learning new behaviors, moving beyond the awkwardness of thinking through every decision, and breaking the mold that was the old relational system that I was comfortable with.

The past couple weeks, things have really been starting to fit together. It's like something I read or was counseled a few months ago suddenly clicks into place and I'm able to actualize it, not just understand it in theory. Things like sharing my inner life. Expressing my vulnerability and what God is doing with me. Being an encourager. Not being demanding, but communicating my needs and desires. Not walking away from the conflict, but making attempts to lead through. Other stuff. All of which may seem simple to you. But for a passive guy who fears rejection and disappointing others, these are monumental steps. This is my Wall. My journey to strength is taking me through my Wall.

When I was a kid, I had this Atari game (by the way, the Atari 2600 rocked. one button. one controller. hours of fun shooting tanks, racing cars, swinging on vines, slaying dragons. i would love to have an Atari 2600 with Pitfall! and Adventure to go home to. and a cup of hot chocolate. and three feet of snow so i could stay in and play...........) Sorry, retreated back to my childhood there. Anyway, the game was called Yars' Revenge. In it you were a bug shaped space ship and you had to kill the mother ship which was behind a wall. Two ways to destroy the wall, shoot it or (since you were a bug) eat it. Well, I could never figure out how to kill the mother ship, so for me all the fun was eating the wall. Kinda lame. Now that I think of it, why didn't the mother ship die when I shot it or ran into it? There was literally nothing else you could do in the game.

Anyway, I'd eat the wall. Piece by piece until I could get through. That's how my Wall is now on this journey. Ignoring it helped lead me to my place of downfall. Only way to deal with the wall is to take it apart, piece by piece. You can't leap over it, ram through it, go around it. The Wall is the Wall and you have to either deal with it or run away from it. Before I didn't have the tools to deal with it or someone who could lead me on the journey. Now I have both.

(Lots of tangents today. If you are reading this, and struggling and wanting to know what to do. Begging for a step, something to relieve the pain. My suggestion, in love, is to go see a counselor. Put the pride on hold and get some counseling. Either professionally or a well trained lay person. Issues don't just magically go away. They come back and bring seven friends.)

The latest part of the wall that I am removing, a remnant from the people pleasing pattern, is differentiating between loving/accepting and indulging. Acknowledging crises as they pop up, empathizing, strategizing, but not giving into the demands. It takes effort and truth to change a system, especially one that has had 15 years to cement itself. In the past, giving in has felt to me like I'm loving her, and it has felt like love to her. But it isn't. It's enabling (how come I can identify that in every other person on the planet, but think it is healthy in me?).

People naturally resist change. Change is uncomfortable. Resistance to me, to my new, healthy behaviors is going to make me feel like I am unloving. Which takes me to puzzle piece number two for the week - proceeding through. That's the piece of the wall. Maybe the biggest piece yet. Maybe the biggest piece there is. Not backing away passively from resistance. But continuing through, having compassion for my wife's woundedness, loving her by walking alongside through her struggles, but providing a path. Being her guide. Helping her see around the corner when she cannot.

I've never said this on my blog, always thought it was assumed - but, I love my wife. A lot. I love being with her. I always loved her before I went crazy, but after my miracle it was like the Grinch's small heart grew three sizes that day. And I had all the love of ten Grinches, plus two. I love my wife. And I am so sorry that I wasn't better equipped to be her husband. That is changing, better late than never.

What's on the other side of the wall? What happens when the pieces of the puzzle fit together? I am told the life of love awaits. I don't mean that in some romantic, Hollywood, fairy tale, happily ever after kind of way. I mean life of love in that loving others well without thought of myself is just the natural expression of who I am. It is Jesus not just living in me, but through me. It is channeling God's love for me to other people. The overflow. It is being a light and no one can see the bulb.

I'm not there yet. But I'm closer that I was last week. Maybe I've finished the edge of the puzzle.

A Bad Metaphor

My birthday is tomorrow. I can honestly say that in my life there is nothing material that I want. Oh, I could give you a list of some books and I always enjoy a new shirt, but there is really nothing that I'm sitting around pining for. On a car ride this weekend (we do a lot of driving) I was joking with my wife about birthday gifts and told her that I measure how much I mean to people by what they get me as a gift. The comment was totally a joke - I think I heard it on a TV show or something, but it has struck me how relevant that comment was to be for me.

It wasn't until I got to the end of Blue Like Jazz that I pieced it all together. As donald miller is wrapping up his book, he describes how he came to the realization that his thinking on love was all wrong. When he was confronted with the metaphorical language our culture uses for love and relationships it becomes clear that, to us, they are a commodity, a product of our consumer society.

We invest in relationships.

We value people.

We build relational equity.

People can be morally bankrupt.

We make deposits in relational accounts.

My spouse is priceless (or a treasure).

You may describe someone as worthless.

Relationship have become economic. As such, we judge them by the payoff they we get from them. In this model, I'll choose to give or withhold my love based on what I'm getting out of the relationship. Think about it, if time is money - and that is part of the belief system that we have - then time I spend with someone has an economic implication. So, I will be inclined to spend time with or build into people who will produce for me, who will give me a return on my investment.

Conversely, I will withhold myself in relationship in which I'm not getting a good return. Those that are not meeting MY needs. Those that are not meeting my expectations or helping me climb the ladder of success. So withholding become a form of communication. "You don't measure up." "Give me what I want and I'll give back." "You're not worth it."

Those may or may not be the intentional messages, but I'm pretty certain that those would be the perceptions of the other, the person who is not experiencing a scarcity of attention or affection in the relationship. Looking back, I was very good at this. Pride, remember? Relationships had a definite purpose to validate me or meet a need. That's why there are people pleasers - it's not about the other, it's about self.

There were lots of relationships that I manipulated like a stock broker. Buying and selling depending upon what I was getting. Especially with my wife. Being a man with passive tendencies, I would withdraw from contact. Withhold expressions of love (unless they were physical), mope around, invest my time elsewhere where I would feel worth.

While it didn't cure me totally, my Miracle showed me the error of my unforgiveness and pride. My wife (and others) were not at my disposal or intended for my validation. But something that underlies all this, all this withholding, is a realization that our love, affection, and friendship has influence. Our love for people has the power to make or break them.

We've all heard the expression that behind every good man is a good woman. Well, duh. It is easier to succeed when you have someone cheering you on and respecting you. When you don't have to expend so much emotional energy proving yourself. Similarly, behind every good woman, I'd expect there to be a man who cherishes, encourages and loves his woman. For the same reasons. It's so much easier for a flower to bloom in fertile soil.

I want there to be fertile soil for my relationship to bloom in (Btw, are gardening metaphors better for relationships that economic ones? I'll have to think that through, but this is a blog and we'll go with it.). Since I'm the man, the God appointed leader, the change agent, it is up to me to do til the ground. Strategies abound. There are a million books on relationships that have good strategies. But they will only truly be effective when your motivation is right. When you drop the economic model of investing to get something.

Instead, serve. Give yourself as a gift. Expect nothing in return. Put your needs on hold. Do it for love. How can I claim to love God when I treat my brothers and sisters as commodities. Let God fill your account so it can be emptied for others. If you get something in return, even better, but that is not the motivation. That's been the fruit of my Miracle and coming up against the Wall of my pride. Realizing that I shouldn't be trying for an economic style return in my relationship, but creating a new metaphor.

Why'd You Have to Go and Make Things So Complicated

It is great to get another perspective. Especially one that causes you to take a step back and see things really differently. An "a ha!" moment. Just like the picture of the woman below. Some see an old woman looking down and others see a young woman with her head turned away. It takes some serious effort to break through your preconceptions and see the other woman, but when you do it is almost like your brain experiences a sense of relief.



Although, it is just a little humbling when that relieving change in perspective comes from the mouth of a nine year old child. Jesus did say that the kingdom belonged to those such as the little children, yet it doesn't make the pill any easier to swallow. Let me give you the back story.

Since I repented from my craziness I have been praying that God would give me a second chance at ministry. In fact, I feel totally compelled that is His direction for me. At the same time, I know that my dessert experience is important and not to be rushed. I'm learning to delight in God regardless of my circumstances. So I've prayed. Knowing that it would be a miracle of God's grace.

That in a nutshell is the back story. So, in an amazingly humbling event, I am talking with a church about a job. Whether it comes to anything or not, I am filled with gratitude and awe struck by a God of forgiveness and second chances. In everything, I want to be faithful, not running ahead (as is my bent), not lagging behind.

In my effort of faithfulness I was employing those around me to pray. My daughter was one of those and I also wanted to get her thoughts on this potential new opportunity. Here is our conversation:

Me: "How would you feel about daddy going to work at pastor smith's church?"
Her: "I think it would be great. I like going and they don't have church on Saturday so we'd get to spend that together."
Me: "Would you pray for this opportunity?"
Her: "What do you want me to pray for?"
Me: "That daddy would only do what God wants. And that I have a clear direction on whether to take the job or not."
Her: "I'll pray if you want me to daddy, but it seems like this is the answer to your prayers. You've been praying for this since you came back and God knows that is what He made you to do."
Me: "Well, ok then."

Now, as you read this conversation, when my daughter said the word 'answer', say it in your mind as a nine year old would say it while explaining something super obvious to a three year old sibling. Kinda drawn out, like "aaaaannnnsssswwweeeerrrr to your prayers (aren't you my dad? shouldn't you be smarter than me? i can't believe you don't understand how prayer words dad.).

While I'm not advocating here that I should not pray, isn't it true that we over complicate things? Like if God did give me neon writing in the sky, I'd be like "yeah, but I'd be really sure if He made it a blinking neon sign."

It's all about trust. Putting your life in His hands. Trusting where He is going to send you. I think sometimes there is a semblance of distrust in our prayers. Using prayer as a disguise. "Let me pray on it" is the most common blow off in ministry. It's passive, wanting the decision to be made for me. Taking the trust out of my hands. Neon signs do not require faith. Neon signs are for the timid. From my daughter's perspective, I was already praying. This was the answer, not a point for indecision.

How simple. And in this case, how true. I'm connected to God in a way that is different from the past. I'm aware of what He's doing in my life. This IS an answer to prayer. So, one foot in front of the other I'm going to choose the path of trust. Let's see where this opportunity leads.

Thou Dost Protesteth Too Much

While talking with some friends at church, we got going about the church group that has been in the news recently for protesting things. Mainly at the funerals of dead soldiers who were gay. But it seems they have branched out. My friend had encountered them at a sci-fi convention in San Diego where they had signs like "God hates nerds" and other uplifting statements.

Before Christ we all had things that we used in the place of God in our hearts. For some it may be the fantasy of a sci-fi world. For others it is how they define themselves sexually. Doesn't make it right, just true of everyone who has experienced the human condition.

It occurred to me that this church group has forgotten that. They've fallen into the trap of self-righteousness. Basically and attitude of "I've changed, forget that it was a process, I expect you to be just like me." Absent are grace and hope, heavy are the doses of judgment and condemnation. Really, it does more to damage the cause of Christ. If not for the Holy Spirit, I'd say it would be impossible for those who receive this condemnation to realize they are loved by God.

Conversely, I've been reading Blue Like Jazz by donald miller (he doesn't capitalize his name on the book cover, so I'll be cool and do the same). It's an interesting peek into one man's journey on the Christian path. My favorite chapter has been 'confession'. Seems don found himself one of a small handful of Christians on a very secular college campus, openly hostile to expressions of Christianity. As part of their effort to figure out how to live on this campus, they decided to 'come out' during a campus party weekend. They did this using a confession booth that advertised "Confess Your Sins".

Kicker was, the confession booth was for the Christians to confess how they'd failed as Christians, how they had not lived up to the example of Christ. This act was so shocking to the campus, that they earned a measure of acceptance and respect from the student body. A group once openly hostile, now tolerated and attended their groups and events.

Rather than self-righteous indignation, don and his gang practiced humility - not considering themselves higher than they ought, remembering from where they came on their own journey and how they were formerly trapped in the world of sin.

I'm afraid that my pride caused me to be more like the former than the latter. No, I didn't protest things - I've always thought that was a silly way to reach people and communicate a hope filled message - my self-righteousness was more subtle. I had allowed myself a book understanding of people's problems rather than having a heart felt empathy.

It is hard to follow Christ. It is often painful to accept the truth of his teachings and pursue obedience. There are painful consequences when you work out your salvation. More often than I'd like to admit, while my advice was sound, I was given to frustration rather easily when people didn't immediately follow it. Or struggled to make up their mind. That was my pride. Rather, pride's fruitful cousin - self-righteousness.

It was like life was a multiple choice test, and all we needed was the answer key. Life would work out if we'd all just bubble in the correct circles. And I approached my life and as well as others with that mindset. I did this with people I counseled and some of those that I led. Especially with my wife as she did not live up to my expectations and meet my needs. And to some degree, with myself as I lived behind my mask. I didn't have a lot of grace to give because I wasn't allowing myself to receive it. I had my proverbial fig leaf on as I hid even from God.

The heart is a funny thing. It is described as the wellspring of life and also deceitful above all things. I am told John of the Cross wrote that the language of God is the experience God writes into our lives. That sounds about right. And God has used my experience to replace my heart of stone with a heart of flesh. My time in the dessert has really renewed my love for people and my desire to serve them in the name of Christ. Not perfectly, and I'm learning to give myself grace along the way (still a struggle). This time, though, loving others is not for the benefit of my approval meter.

Who's the Boss?

It has taken a long time to learn, but I have been the king of the 'non-anxious response'. Said another way, I had come to lead my marriage (and participate in other close relationships) out of my fears and anxieties. Fear of rejection, fear of not being loved, and fear of not living up to other's expectations (disappointing others) were the things I was trying to avoid. So, it turns out, I wasn't so much leading as I was placating my own fears.

Much like my dad, I've always tended toward passivity and people pleasing. Ways to relieve my pain and avoid my fears. If I didn't open up, rejection would be less painful. If I did things to make people happy, I wouldn't have to face disappointment. While I was plenty guilty of this in all areas, I am mainly going to focus on my marital system.

Here's the problem: when your highest goal is to keep the peace, you transfer the power in the relationship. When having your own expectations met determines your happiness, the other person is in control. And that, very subtly, is what happened in my marriage. This did not happen by any nefarious plan by my wife, it is simply the equilibrium we achieved to minimize our pain.

Yet, my role is leader. God gifted me and designed me to be a leader. So, it is oh so ironic that in my immediate family I allowed my anxious response take me out of the leadership position. Just like Adam. You know that story, don't you?

Past results have been that, if I'm not leading my marriage, I am then trying to get something out of it. Placing expectations on my wife for my happiness. Rather than a ministry, marriage was about performing to get the reward. That is the definition of being undifferentiated in a relationship, if you've never heard the counseling term for it.

My wife was the boss by default. Just like Eve. Both of them facing the serpent while the men are abandoning their responsibility. My greatest failure in all of this has been that, while I was so focused on my own needs and anxieties, I didn't notice the struggle that my wife was having. The walls of protection that she was erecting. Actually, not noticing is too strong - I certainly did notice them because they caused my wife not to be able to respond to me emotionally, physically or spiritually as my wife. By the time I was emotionally empty enough to suggest getting some outside help, she was emotionally empty enough not to want to pitch in the effort. Further frustration cause by pandering to my fears.

A husband is supposed to provide the security for his wife to open up and be herself. I was so focused on the lack of respect that I was due that I was shutting her down. An exhausting cycle because my response, was to try harder and harder to have the marriage everyone would expect.

In my defense, with the example passed to my by my father, I did not have the tools to do this. My root sin of pride made it very hard to invite people into this. Frustration with God caused me to shut Him out. A bad experience quenched any trust that I did have or might have developed. And no one seemed to notice or care about what they were seeing in me. That is not a statement to try to absolve myself of responsibility, just an observation of the relational system I'd constructed.

So, harder and harder I tried, like a hamster in a wheel. My every misguided effort only served to solidify the status quo. My wife felt more hurt, alone, misunderstood and built more walls of insulation. I felt more lonely, unlovable and disrespected. Legitimate needs and desires that I wanted fulfilled in illegitimate ways. Like the hamster, my tank was empty and I was still nowhere.

Never make a decision alone when you are emotionally exhausted and spiritually empty. For me, when I was at this place, I dropped the pretensions and was emotionally honest. Unfortunately, out of this desperation, rather than pursuing godliness, I took refuge in worldliness. Bad choice.

Here's the thing, that's where we got when power was transferred in my relationship. Like Esau giving up the birthright for some stew, I gave up power to avoid my fears. The process of change requires that I take back leadership. Tough considering the 'comfort' of our known roles. Journeying toward strength means facing my fears and considering my wife's needs alongside my own. Tough because it means denying my legitimate needs and desires for a time to allow my wife the safety and room to heal. It means stepping into my God given and God designed role.

Like walking barefoot your entire life and then being given shoes, it feels awkward but hopefully both my wife and I will adjust to the comfort and protection of the new footwear. It means me having the strength to lead, and her having the strength to let me.

A Touching Moment

Met with a friend last week. Someone who has been on this journey of recovery since the beginning. In my last blog I mentioned my relational desert. As of right now I can think of three people who have been consistently walking with me. They are my manna. Provided by God. Miracles of the journey.

This friend and I went for a ride and sat in a park and talked for awhile. The future came up. A subject that I'm filled with hope about, but a reluctance to build up any expectations. Anything the future holds is a gift and I just want to soak in every moment of this journey.

During our conversation he said something to the effect of "Friend, I know thinking about the future is tough for you, but I want you to know that when I look at you and when I'm with you, I never think of the past. It never occurs to me." He was offering me one of the greatest gifts that anyone could - he is choosing to not define me by my past and my mistakes.

Swimming in forgiveness and grace feels so good and freeing. Admittedly, this friend was brought to me by God after everything in my life blew up, so maybe it was easier for him to not define me by my failure. Maybe. Either way, I'm not going to dwell on that point, I am just going to enjoy how refreshed my heart felt at being offered this gift.

It made me think of God. He has been through all of this with me. He did have to endure the heartbreak of my failures. Yet, the Bible is clear that I can still freely stand at the foot of the throne of grace and mercy and have it heaped on me. God too chooses not to define me by my failure and disappointment, but rather uses it for my good. And He has. This journey is a good one.

I know as I continue on my life will be filled with more friends who will know little of where I've been. In some ways it will become the distant past, too far back on the horizon for most to see. At that point I hope for two things - that I'll be able to comfort others with the comfort I've received, and that others whom I have disappointed will join the journey and define me as God does.

On a Horse with No Name

I am in the middle of a desert experience. Hold that. My wife and I have been watching a TV show called Monk about an obsessive compulsive police detective. He has a passion for details, especially things other people would consider minute. After someone made a statement like mine ("I am in the middle of a desert experience."), Monk, who is the master of the tangential response said "There is no way you can know that. Only God can know when middle of an experience that hasn't ended yet is." Make me laugh. OK Mr. Monk, point taken. Fact remains that the reader knows what I'm talking about - I am in the middle of a desert experience.

While there were others, the epitome of desert experiences in the Bible was the one had by the entire Israelite nation as they fled Egypt. Despite the fact that the journey could have been decades shorter, God kept the Israelites in the desert because they were not ready for the land of promise. God needed to develop a thirst in them that could be developed no where else but by walking in the desert.

Think about this...what grows in the desert? What do you drink in the desert? What is there to use to make structures or clothes? Nothing. The desert produces absolutely nothing. It is a place of desolation, drought, and poverty. To sustain life, you have to turn the the Author and Giver of life, and that is exactly what God was teaching the Israelites. Before they could appreciate the promised land, they had to first appreciate God. His provision. His protection.

Basically, the desert will make you thirsty. And a entire generation had to learn the hard way (by dying in the desert), that God is the source of our thirst quenching. So they had to rely on a pillar of cloud and fire to lead them (nice GPS!), water to come from rocks, food to fall from the sky, shoes that wouldn't wear out. Literally everything they needed had to come directly from the hand of God. Still took 40 years for their pride to be broken.

That's the desert - source of poverty and thirst - and the place where we maybe most willing to see God.

At present, that is where I find myself. In a relational desert. For work I drive and hour. So I'm an outsider. I spend many hours each day in a room full of nice people, but there is not a sacred companion here. I've mainly been to my new church on Sundays, which as every church leader knows, is not the best day to build depth. Yes I have a few friends (an oasis) and a lot of relational potential, but it's the desert. Loneliness is my thirst right now.

My suspicion is that is just what God wants. Thirst turned the Israelites to turn to God for a solution. The thirst I experience has caused me to depend on God in a very real way. To develop depth. To not just offer a formula of prayer, but to experience God in prayer. Literally feeling Him walk with me in the morning as I talk with Him. The desert can be a refreshing place if you know where to look.

Yet, I find that I'm still in the middle (yes, Mr. Monk, I heard you), learning to embrace the desert, and longing for what comes next. For Israel it was 40 years. Elijah was fed by ravens until the brook dried up. Jesus waited 30 years a carpenter's son. The disciples waited without Jesus and without the Counselor for days in a room praying constantly.

Sometimes it just doesn't seem like God is in a hurry. Isn't he revolutionizing the world here? Does He have time to waste? Well, apparently it is not a waste. Seasons like this need to be embraced. Sometimes the best thing is the wait and be still and not do, do, do. The next challenge will be to maintain that perspective and balance when out of the desert.

Walking with Brokenness

As I was sorting through my funk a couple weeks ago, one of the questions that I kept focusing on was "is it fair, or even possible, to pursue the calling that I believe God has on my life while my wife deals with her brokenness - and I deal with mine for that matter?" Questions like that one make the destination so much further away and unachievable. Like trying to navigate a boat in a dense fog. Which way do you go? There is light out there, but it is so hard to see.

With that rolling around in my head, the funk go more and more.

Then, during some time with God, this thought flashed through my head...where was Peter's wife?

When you read the accounts of Jesus healing Peter's mother-in-law, Peter's wife is not mentioned at all. Does that seem curious to anyone else? There is no description of her worry for her mother's fever, no asking Jesus to heal her, no expression of thankfulness after the healing, and even more - mother-in-law began to wait on Jesus - again no mention of Peter's wife in all this.

Of course, there is probably some great reason for this, but maybe there is some back story here that we don't know or expect because we sometimes take the skin and humanity off of our Bible characters. Maybe Peter's wife resented Jesus. After all Peter just up and left his job one day to follow Jesus around the countryside. I'm sure food still needed to be put on the table and there were the proverbial bills to pay. Maybe she resented Peter for following Jesus. Now more household responsibility fell on her and she just couldn't take being around when the two of them came over. But, it really seems to me a stretch to think she would not be home with a sick mom laying in the house. Or maybe she didn't believe. Peter was being gullible. Other 'messiahs' had come and gone and left nothing but trouble. Maybe this miracle was for her so she'd believe that Jesus was different.

I wonder (of course assuming any of this has root in truth) how Peter would handle this situation. Was he frustrated with his wife's lack of faith? Did he feel torn? Was he tempted to not follow? Can you imagine the tragedy that would be, not living out his calling from Christ? Yet, history tells us that Peter's wife went to Rome to die with him. Apparently, Peter's obedience in responding to Christ's call got her to follow as well.

When confronted with such a situation, wouldn't it be easier to try to wiggle out like Adam - "Hey God, everything here was cool until you sent the woman to get us into the pile of trouble." Peter, or anyone else struggling with marriage difficulties, could cite a similar statement to justify disobedience.

Truth is, my wife and I are both broken followers of Christ. Aren't we all? Somehow, at times, I get it into my head that she needs to achieve a certain measure of wholeness before it will be possible to pursue my call. Sometimes I wonder if God didn't make a mistake, and ask is it even fair of me to follow Jesus around the countryside at all. For her, doesn't that just make overcoming brokenness that much harder?

But God keeps beckoning. I have to follow his call, it's who I am. The truth is that brokenness is not the problem. Not mine. Not my wife's. God knew before calling us and continues to expect that we are broken. It's part of the deal with being a human living in a fallen world. Being wounded is not the concern, God can and will use that. But are we actively living the the power of Christ to make steps toward overcoming the brokenness. That is trust and faithfulness. He'll control the outcome, we control our next step.

Still Cookin'

It's been a couple weeks since I've posted. The university at which I teach runs on a monthly schedule. Students take one class for 12 hours a week. For the next couple months I am teaching both a day class and a night class. Makes doing much of anything else on those days very hard. So, I've lapsed on my blogging. No shortage of ideas. Just time. Always time.

So I sit this morning at my favorite morning place with my computer along for the ride, having a bagel and recovering from the last two days. In the previous 48 hours I have worked 26 of those and when you throw in the commute, that bumps it up to 30. Not complaining or asking for sympathy, just explaining my absence.

Truth is, though, that I've been in a funk for the last couple weeks also. I tend to be optimistic, jovial and full of energy, so I do not like being in a funk. And that just makes it all the worse. Like an emotional toilet flush.

For me it has been a tough couple weeks. When you just want to crawl away and hide that is never good. It's much worse when you are in the middle of several relational systems that you are trying to change and you are aware that your funk is not helping things progress at all...it almost makes you want to give up.

And I think at some point, thanks in part to Larry Crabb (imagine me saying 'Larry' like Jerry Seinfeld says 'Newman'), I think I identified the main source of the funk...I feel so disconnected. I am a people person and I'm in the desert. With good reason and by God's design right now, but that does not change how disconnected I feel.

I also want my life to matter. For God to be able to use me to change lives. That is what I was made to do and what I feel compelled to. The road back is slow, and long, and not at all straight. It's just taking more time that I had hoped. While you might say 'ministry is not limited to vocation', I do understand that and take advantage of the opportunities God's presents, nonetheless it remains true that a huge portion of my week is spent doing things that keep me from what God designed me to do.

Just to heap it on a little more, I like a plan. (Larry Crabb would describe me as a mix of a city builder and fire lighter. I want to be right and I want to be adequate. Thanks Laaaaarrrrryyyy.) Not only do I like a plan, I'd like a timeline and mile markers on the journey. Yet there is none. I don't know what steps to make on my own to achieve marital harmony or vocational ministry. I don't know how much longer I'll be in this holding pattern.

In fact, in some areas I feel life has actually regressed. That adds to my helpless frustration. Maybe regression is faulty perception from being in the middle of everything, or maybe that is just the discomfort of the system changing. I'm not sure. What I am aware of is making my own plan is yet another thing God is breaking me of.

So, not only am I in the desert (I keep wanting to type dessert and being in a big dessert actually sounds good right now) with very little connection so I will focus my connection on God, I am also in the dark so I cannot find my own way and have to trust God; the one who has me here.

It all comes back to trust, nice. Further vindication at the choice of blog name.

There you have it. My funk. It was bad. But I'm coming out of it. Time with God is amazing (unfortunately a funk makes pursuing that time a true battle). God is reminding me that He is doing a new thing. He is the one in charge and new things take time. Not necessarily what someone living in a microwave culture wants to hear. But meat cooked in a croc-pot is way, way, way better than meat cooked in a microwave.

Carbon Copy

I've never viewed myself as similar to my dad. He hates his job, but chooses to be there. Doesn't resolve relationship issues and internalized his hurt, anger, stress, etc. He seems to like going to the doctor. He's Mediterranean; I'm Caribbean. Wine for him; I'd rather have a beer.

But the more I learn, the more similarities I unearth. Both our tendencies are to retreat emotionally. We've both ceded control of similar household responsibilities to our wives. Neither of us knows his father.

I'm trying to reorient that last one. As I've mentioned earlier, I think much of my marriage dysfunction stems from my relationship with my dad. What is utterly amazing to me is how I have (unconsciously? subconsciously? comfortable?) replicated the same family system he has had.

My sister was a quadriplegic. She had a diving accident at age 14. Before that she had a rare blood disorder. Lots and lots of hospital time. Surgeries. Attention. She was the impetus for our move to Florida from Massachusetts. Her illnesses, through no fault of hers, defined our family. Because of her great need, my mom became her advocate and caregiver. In fact, they became inseparable. We used to joke about it. They were over bonded. My sister became my mom's world (maybe there's a hint in there regarding the source of my focus on performance. Need for attention, anyone?)

Whether he chose it because he felt it was his role or because he felt shut out of the family, my dad threw himself into work. In fact, work has defined him. That's why retirement has been such a tough decision for him (although it seems to me like a no-brainer). What else has he known since 14?

Anyway, that is my family of origin system. And it is the one I created. My wife and I have one daughter. She's a miracle. Five years worth of trying, disappointment, and being told it was impossible. (Don't ever let someone tell you the fun is in the trying. It's not.)

So my wife has defined herself through motherhood. That's her primary relationship. Whether I chose this because of passion or because I felt shut out (or maybe a little of both), I threw myself into my ministry. It's how I defined myself and my relationship with God. It was my first lover.

Now don't those pictures look similar. Frighteningly so. Like if our lives were printed on transparencies (remember those?) and placed over each other, they would be an almost perfect match. And I don't want it to carry on to my daughter's marriage. The cycle is going to stop with me. And one of the roots is my relationship with dad.

I need to give my wife the picture of manhood and strength. Loosening the bond with my mom that formed in the vacuum and strengthen the one with my dad. Then my wife will have the room (if she chooses) to be feminine. The role of woman that God intended. To be my wife first. To achieve balance in our marriage and unburden herself from some of the things she's felt the need to take on.

Sounds so simple to change a family system. Change one part and the entire thing changes. I'm guessing it will get very hard. There is already push back. It's uncomfortable to leave what you've know (even if it is unhealthy) and let a new normal be defined. Hopefully, when the dust settles, my daughter will get the picture of a marriage that honors God and is structured in the way He intended. One that builds up both spouses. One in which each other's needs are important and being met. One in which love is natural.

With the freedom and security that come along with health and appropriate roles. Lessons she's be able to carry on to her own relationship. Not only her relationship with her husband, but also the implications it will have on her relationship with Christ and her understanding the imagery of the marriage between Christ and His church.

Pain, Pain Go Away

It is surprising what a motivating factor the pain in our lives is. Makes sense when you are talking about touching a hot stove burner. There's motivation. But it is emotionally surprising - at least to me. Anyone reading this has probably heard the proverb (not biblical) "change happens when the pain of changing is less than the pain of staying the same." Seems just about every pastor can throw that one out there, me included.

In my folly (what one friend has described as going postal), I had convinced myself this would be true in my own life. That the pain of having an affair would be less than the pain of staying in a dysfunctional marriage (a marriage, by the way, that was my responsibility). Sure seemed like that could be true on the front end, but my daughter, ministry and wife would tell you a different story.

If you are reading this and are will to listen, here is an urgent word of caution: don't make any decisions on your own while you are hurting; pain will make you do stupid, ridiculous, irrational things that will be incomprehensible to your mind when the hurt is over.

Here is what I lost sight of, and I think I've regained proper perspective; My 'pain' now comes from wanting to be like Christ. Despite my circumstances, this should have been my sole vantage point all along. God has saved me and clothed me with righteousness. Knowing that Christ died so God the Father would view me that way should grieve me. I am the worst. Paul say he was chief among sinners, but I think I'd give him a good run for his money (there you go, I'm willing to place a bet with Paul, sinner!). Being a sinner who is, nonetheless, saved hurts.

Hurts so good, as John (Cougar?) Mellencamp would say, because that pain is driving me to strive for Christlikeness. Staying the same before God hurts worse than staying the same, at least it should when you measure the cost to Him. It's working out my salvation. I'm a slow learner, but I think I've caught on to this.

The pain I should feel most in my life should not come from my worldly circumstances, but from not being like Christ in front of a hold God.

That, and that reason alone, is how I will be able to be a better disciple, better husband, better father, better friend, and even a better pastor - if given the opportunity.

Right now I am an instructor of mathematics at a university. (A new colleague at church recently said, when he learned of my background, "Oh, so you're really smart then." Yes, I fake it well.) Even worse than being called to something by God and not yet getting there, is having done the thing God specifically created you to do and then going backwards. It's like having been in St. Lucia one day, then finding yourself in Newark, New Jersey the next. Total letdown.

This past weekend, I was talking with a friend about calling, telling her that, whether she believed it or not, my calling form God had not dissipated - in fact it was more intense now than ever. She responded that we are all sinful, and that sin doesn't change our calling. My addition to that statement would be only that a lack of repentance makes our calling ineffectual.

I've been told by several people, at various moments in this process, that I'm still a pastor. Despite a vivid 'second calling' right after my Miracle, it's only in the last few months that I've dared to believe it. It comes from a new understanding through experience of the depths of God's love and grace.

With God all things are possible. A fallen pastor restored is not out of the question. David was restored. Peter was too. And like them, I don't want to ever lose the pain that drives me toward Christ.