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.