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.
Showing posts with label miracle. Show all posts
Showing posts with label miracle. Show all posts
Thursday, October 28, 2010
Wednesday, October 27, 2010
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.
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.
Saturday, August 28, 2010
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.
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.
Monday, August 16, 2010
Baby Got a Big Ole But
After I had officially gone crazy, confessed to my wife, and sent a resignation letter to my supervisor, I did not lack for people who had an opinion to give me. The spectrum ranged from the woman from my church who confessed that she and her husband belonged to a group that believed monogamy was not God's plan for men at one end all the way to a close friend who reminded me how good I was counseling people and asked me what I would say to me. (I still hate THAT advice.)
Many people who offer you their sage words of wisdom are those whose advice/opinion you would never seek. Yet, words are free and many people cannot give out enough of them. One theme was pretty much universal (with the exception noted above), I could find no one who would agree with me that what I was doing was OK and justified.
To pretty much anyone who would listen, I would state my side of the case. I had my presentation down pat and could deliver it with passion. Problem was, nobody was convinced. In fact, the routine I was giving was not what anyone was looking for. Rather than repentance, I was giving defiance.
Instead of asking for forgiveness, I was making excuses.
It wasn't so much agreement I was looking for; I wanted to be excused. I wanted people to listen to the uniqueness of my circumstances and give me a pass. Like God had not realized situations like mine would happen. Please, someone, anyone, tell me this is not my fault.
The advice of my close friend was so painful because I remember person after person sitting in my office making their excuses. Either wanting their own way or asking for forgiveness in a way that is really having someone accept their excuses. I'm sure you've heard this too. Or maybe even you are doing it yourself..."Dear God, I am sorry that I did X, but..." The excuse follows the 'but'. And some of us have big ole buts. Oh yeah. But I digress, that is a matter for another day.
Asking forgiveness is not making excuses. It is owning up to our wrong. Minus the 'but'. Repentance means turning away from, making things as right as possible. Taking responsibility for your end. Probably all stuff you know; I knew it. But living it is a lot tougher than just knowing it.
I lived in my excuses for some time. They fed my anger and helped to justify my behavior. It was hard to swim upstream. Took a whole lot of emotional energy. Alienated almost everyone around me. It wasn't until The Miracle that I got the full view of what I was doing.
I really wasn't aware at the time of my miracle how deep I was going to be digging. That the sin God was referring to went way beyond my going off the deep end with another woman. Yet, in that moment I made the commitment to stop making excuses. Not that I don't still struggle with the size of my 'but'... That day was my first step on the journey toward strength. I stopped withdrawing and hiding behind my excuses, and took responsibility for my own actions.
Change in my family system is up to me, no ifs, ands, or buts.
Many people who offer you their sage words of wisdom are those whose advice/opinion you would never seek. Yet, words are free and many people cannot give out enough of them. One theme was pretty much universal (with the exception noted above), I could find no one who would agree with me that what I was doing was OK and justified.
To pretty much anyone who would listen, I would state my side of the case. I had my presentation down pat and could deliver it with passion. Problem was, nobody was convinced. In fact, the routine I was giving was not what anyone was looking for. Rather than repentance, I was giving defiance.
Instead of asking for forgiveness, I was making excuses.
It wasn't so much agreement I was looking for; I wanted to be excused. I wanted people to listen to the uniqueness of my circumstances and give me a pass. Like God had not realized situations like mine would happen. Please, someone, anyone, tell me this is not my fault.
The advice of my close friend was so painful because I remember person after person sitting in my office making their excuses. Either wanting their own way or asking for forgiveness in a way that is really having someone accept their excuses. I'm sure you've heard this too. Or maybe even you are doing it yourself..."Dear God, I am sorry that I did X, but..." The excuse follows the 'but'. And some of us have big ole buts. Oh yeah. But I digress, that is a matter for another day.
Asking forgiveness is not making excuses. It is owning up to our wrong. Minus the 'but'. Repentance means turning away from, making things as right as possible. Taking responsibility for your end. Probably all stuff you know; I knew it. But living it is a lot tougher than just knowing it.
I lived in my excuses for some time. They fed my anger and helped to justify my behavior. It was hard to swim upstream. Took a whole lot of emotional energy. Alienated almost everyone around me. It wasn't until The Miracle that I got the full view of what I was doing.
I really wasn't aware at the time of my miracle how deep I was going to be digging. That the sin God was referring to went way beyond my going off the deep end with another woman. Yet, in that moment I made the commitment to stop making excuses. Not that I don't still struggle with the size of my 'but'... That day was my first step on the journey toward strength. I stopped withdrawing and hiding behind my excuses, and took responsibility for my own actions.
Change in my family system is up to me, no ifs, ands, or buts.
Monday, August 2, 2010
The Miracle
Sometimes I just cannot get a grasp on time. There are times when things fly by. Like the weeks between Thanksgiving and New Year's. College football season is another time that whirls by for me. Anytime I am on a cruise ship it's like as I walk the gangplank to get on I can already see myself walking down the other side off the ship. Time is flying.
Someone this weekend caught me in contemplation mode and asked me what I was thinking about (that's what happens when you get real quiet during a mic check with a bunch of people watching). It had just suddenly slammed in my mind that it had been almost exactly a year since The Miracle. For all my restlessness, wanting things to be further along, it has only been a year. It has just seemed like so much longer.
At the end of July last year I spent two weeks serving at a camp for the disabled in Wisconsin. Away from everything and pretty much everyone for two weeks. God was able to start talking to me. Well, strike that. God had been talking to me the entire time, it's just that I wasn't listening. Turning my back with my arms crossed. I had decided it was time to live by Frank Sinatra's motto and do things my way.
In Wisconsin, I was confronted by the dependence of the people of the camp. They each had a counselor dedicated to their needs. A buddy for people who had pretty much no one. This camp was their one week to forget they were disabled. Most impactful for me was watching these people worship and sing in chapel. Despite their circumstance and the genetic hand they were dealt, these were some of the most thankful people I'd ever seen. Trusting God. Embracing His offer of love. And I got to watch it all as I worked the sound booth. (Anyone who knows me is probably dumbstruck to learn that I ran sound, since my motto is that I sing for volume. But I'm also teachable and I did a great job.)
I was still fully in the wrong place spiritually, but I recall that during that time my heart developed its first cracks. So I spent my week teaching people how to fish (another incredibly ironic thing, since I don't fish), serving meals and running sound. I still wanted what I wanted rather than what God wanted, but the mental images of those campers still has not left me.
Once back home, I was ruled by the same discontent. Firstly, I wanted to be loved. To have someone to appreciate and respect me (ironic when my behavior was so unrespectable). Someone who wouldn't push me away. At the same time, I wanted confidence that God loved me. People had been telling me God loved me. I just didn't feel it. In fact, I was afraid. Afraid to die. Driving on I-4 used to terrify me.
One of the bargains I had with God was - "Just give me a couple years. I'll show you how good I can be. You can still use me in ministry. I can be a good husband for someone else. Just give me some time." I wanted God to accept things my way. And you can see how much I thought His love for me was based on how I performed. In essence, God if we just change things around I can show you that I am worth loving.
Yet, as you would expect, I had no peace. In fact, I was constantly anxious. Fighting God consumes a lot of energy, both physical and emotional. I was angry at pretty much everyone, but most of all, I was really, really mad at God. Wasn't He supposed to love me? Why was that one simple thing so far from a reality for me?
Emotionally, I was like a pimple. Painful pressure and it was time to break. So, as I was driving down I-4 (another irony) one fine August day, I was screaming at God. Letting it all hang loose. I am sure I looked like the crazy guy to the people slinging past me. Or maybe they didn't notice. Not sure, because I didn't notice them. I was focusing all my venom on God. "What is the problem here? Why can't you love me? Why won't things work out? Aren't I worth having someone who loves me?" and on and on and on it went. For a couple miles.
When I paused for breath, The Miracle happened. I would not make this up. I wasn't driving into the sun. There were no bright lights. But as I closed my eyes, through the tears, the words "It's your sin." were written before me. Like that, I felt freer. I had a rush of understanding. The best way I can describe it is it is like in the "How the Grinch Stole Christmas" cartoon. When the Grinch is hanging over the cliff, holding onto the sleigh of stolen Christmas articles with all his might. Listening to the Whos down in Whoville sing their song. "And the Grinch's small heart grow three sizes that day..."
Don't know how many sizes exactly, but my heart grew that day. It was my sin. I knew what I was doing was wrong, so it is hard to explain how this was a new revelation, but somehow it was. And dramatic. It's like the clouds cleared and my satellite dish could finally receive the signal. God did love me, but I was getting in the way.
Like the Grinch, I wasted no time beginning the process of making things right. Went to my wife and apologized. Made a plan with her. Went to everyone I had wronged in some way, some only slightly but I loved telling this story, and asked forgiveness. Ended my other relationship. Began to live out of the truth of God's love rather than the lie of worldly satisfaction.
While my eyes were focused on my immediate sin, God had a much larger picture. As He always does. In the year that has seemed so long, I have learned a lot of details about myself - some very excruciating - and one of the most important is that my root sin that I battle is Pride. Know your enemy. As I look back on The Miracle, and what God wrote to me, I really think that this is the sin He was referring to. We just needed some time to work together to get there.
Well, there is my Miracle. My gift from a patient and loving Father in Heaven. Amidst all that I got a job (another miracle, a funny and amazing story) and found a grace filled church (simply a rarity in church-world). There has been so much change in me this year, both within and without, and that may be why it has felt so long - because so much has been crammed in.
Thank you God for my Miracle.
Someone this weekend caught me in contemplation mode and asked me what I was thinking about (that's what happens when you get real quiet during a mic check with a bunch of people watching). It had just suddenly slammed in my mind that it had been almost exactly a year since The Miracle. For all my restlessness, wanting things to be further along, it has only been a year. It has just seemed like so much longer.
At the end of July last year I spent two weeks serving at a camp for the disabled in Wisconsin. Away from everything and pretty much everyone for two weeks. God was able to start talking to me. Well, strike that. God had been talking to me the entire time, it's just that I wasn't listening. Turning my back with my arms crossed. I had decided it was time to live by Frank Sinatra's motto and do things my way.
In Wisconsin, I was confronted by the dependence of the people of the camp. They each had a counselor dedicated to their needs. A buddy for people who had pretty much no one. This camp was their one week to forget they were disabled. Most impactful for me was watching these people worship and sing in chapel. Despite their circumstance and the genetic hand they were dealt, these were some of the most thankful people I'd ever seen. Trusting God. Embracing His offer of love. And I got to watch it all as I worked the sound booth. (Anyone who knows me is probably dumbstruck to learn that I ran sound, since my motto is that I sing for volume. But I'm also teachable and I did a great job.)
I was still fully in the wrong place spiritually, but I recall that during that time my heart developed its first cracks. So I spent my week teaching people how to fish (another incredibly ironic thing, since I don't fish), serving meals and running sound. I still wanted what I wanted rather than what God wanted, but the mental images of those campers still has not left me.
Once back home, I was ruled by the same discontent. Firstly, I wanted to be loved. To have someone to appreciate and respect me (ironic when my behavior was so unrespectable). Someone who wouldn't push me away. At the same time, I wanted confidence that God loved me. People had been telling me God loved me. I just didn't feel it. In fact, I was afraid. Afraid to die. Driving on I-4 used to terrify me.
One of the bargains I had with God was - "Just give me a couple years. I'll show you how good I can be. You can still use me in ministry. I can be a good husband for someone else. Just give me some time." I wanted God to accept things my way. And you can see how much I thought His love for me was based on how I performed. In essence, God if we just change things around I can show you that I am worth loving.
Yet, as you would expect, I had no peace. In fact, I was constantly anxious. Fighting God consumes a lot of energy, both physical and emotional. I was angry at pretty much everyone, but most of all, I was really, really mad at God. Wasn't He supposed to love me? Why was that one simple thing so far from a reality for me?
Emotionally, I was like a pimple. Painful pressure and it was time to break. So, as I was driving down I-4 (another irony) one fine August day, I was screaming at God. Letting it all hang loose. I am sure I looked like the crazy guy to the people slinging past me. Or maybe they didn't notice. Not sure, because I didn't notice them. I was focusing all my venom on God. "What is the problem here? Why can't you love me? Why won't things work out? Aren't I worth having someone who loves me?" and on and on and on it went. For a couple miles.
When I paused for breath, The Miracle happened. I would not make this up. I wasn't driving into the sun. There were no bright lights. But as I closed my eyes, through the tears, the words "It's your sin." were written before me. Like that, I felt freer. I had a rush of understanding. The best way I can describe it is it is like in the "How the Grinch Stole Christmas" cartoon. When the Grinch is hanging over the cliff, holding onto the sleigh of stolen Christmas articles with all his might. Listening to the Whos down in Whoville sing their song. "And the Grinch's small heart grow three sizes that day..."
Don't know how many sizes exactly, but my heart grew that day. It was my sin. I knew what I was doing was wrong, so it is hard to explain how this was a new revelation, but somehow it was. And dramatic. It's like the clouds cleared and my satellite dish could finally receive the signal. God did love me, but I was getting in the way.
Like the Grinch, I wasted no time beginning the process of making things right. Went to my wife and apologized. Made a plan with her. Went to everyone I had wronged in some way, some only slightly but I loved telling this story, and asked forgiveness. Ended my other relationship. Began to live out of the truth of God's love rather than the lie of worldly satisfaction.
While my eyes were focused on my immediate sin, God had a much larger picture. As He always does. In the year that has seemed so long, I have learned a lot of details about myself - some very excruciating - and one of the most important is that my root sin that I battle is Pride. Know your enemy. As I look back on The Miracle, and what God wrote to me, I really think that this is the sin He was referring to. We just needed some time to work together to get there.
Well, there is my Miracle. My gift from a patient and loving Father in Heaven. Amidst all that I got a job (another miracle, a funny and amazing story) and found a grace filled church (simply a rarity in church-world). There has been so much change in me this year, both within and without, and that may be why it has felt so long - because so much has been crammed in.
Thank you God for my Miracle.
Thursday, May 20, 2010
Practicing Trust
You hear it said a lot. People will relay this advice at funerals, reacting to a friend's loss of a job or counseling someone through a crisis - "just trust God". It sounds so spiritual to say, yet it is so nebulous. (Although, that is not the worst funeral advice I have ever overheard. That distinction belongs to a funeral director (you'd think he know better) who told exiting mourners "Make it a good night!") Usually spoken when someone is either too uncomfortable or simply does not know what to say. We hate so much to plead our ignorance, so instead we dole out the advice that is technically true in all circumstances, just trust God.
But what does it mean to trust God? It is easy to say, but hard to conceptualize. Even the title of this blog is Choosing to Trust. During the most frustrating time of my personal crisis, I can remember reading a book on marriage that made the statement about trusting God. I don't remember the context, but I do remember tearing the page out of the book in anger after angrily writing all over it "what does this mean" after any sort of exposition was lacking.
Like I said, it is easy to say or even write. Trust God. Well, no kidding, it's even printed on the back of money. (Funny sign outside a small shop while on vacation "In God we trust, all others pay cash.) In light of the trials that we will inevitably face, HOW do you trust God. My advice for anyone would be to nail this down before the trials hit, or at least the big crisis hits. You'll need something to fall back on. What does it mean to practice trust?
This took a lot of investigating, and I can honestly say that no matter what you think of this particular blog entry, dear reader, I would have paid a lot of money to read it a lot sooner. My learning, however remedial, has a large price tag attached. Jesus (who else?) really has a lot to say about what it means to trust. Some of his words are "I will be with you always", "remain in me", "If anyone is thirsty, let him come to me and drink", among many similar statements to his disciples and those following him around.
The most impactful of these statements for me is the idea of rest or a carrying of burdens. "Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest." Rest. Peace. Not a promise that everything will get better, nor a promise that everything will work our in our favor. Just a promise of faithfulness and rest. In fact, as I read much of what Jesus said to his followers, it seems mostly to boil down to a promise that he will be there. A promise, by the way, that should be comforting in and of itself.
From heaven to earth, Jesus came to us in the first place. It became painfully obvious through watching the people Israel that we would not be able to obtain righteousness through obeying the law. So He had to come to us. He became our righteousness. And He has been faithfully promising that he would be with us ever since. He'll give us springs of water flowing within, faithfully bear our burdens, give us an easy yoke, be the bread of life, and be there until the end of the age. That is really the beginning of trust, understanding that basic fact. Jesus is there. Why? Because He said so. He proved it by leaving heaven in the first place, so this is a promise that we can take to the bank.
As a kid learning to ride a bike without training wheels I knew when, on my first ride, my Dad let go of the back of my seat and I was on my own. But Dad kept running along side the bike for the entire ride. And for the second. That didn't mean I wasn't going to lose my balance and fall (I did on the first run), but it did mean he was right beside me to lean into and catch me. He was behind me, I couldn't see him, but I trusted that he was there (although, to be fair, he was huffing and puffing so I could hear him well). Same is true with Jesus. He's there. That should be enough. It is, if we've come to him.
What keeps us from going to him? Same thing that always has. The very same thing that caused Adam and Eve to hide in the bush rather than running to God walking in the garden. Hebrews 12 states it well:
It is our sin that keeps us from going to him. In trying to become our own gods, solve our own problems, and demonstrating our disobedience, not only are we displaying our lack of trust but it also keeps us from going to Christ. Sin entangles. Like a fly caught in a spider web that it didn't see. Sadly, the more the fly tries to escape on its own, the more stuck it becomes. Doomed to be consumed by the spider, the fly will struggle until exhaustion, probably thinking the whole time (do flies think? we'll pretend here they do) I just need another second to get free.
When we are entangled by sin, as the passage above says, we can't run the race. We get stuck. Our eyes lose focus on Jesus (who is there, like He promised) and we grow weary and lose heart. Bearing the burden on our own, carrying the yoke meant for two, we grow tired and lose heart. Quite the opposite of the rest that we are promised.
I was the fly in the web. Without seeing my own sin of pride, I struggled in my marriage that seemed so one sided. Fighting the cycle of lust, guilt, apology to God. Seeking affirmation from people I worked with and for. Frustrated by unmet expectations. I lost heart. The verses from Hebrews became a sad blue print of my life of entanglement in sin. Mostly 'acceptable' sins. Unseen by those around me because I had shut them out.
A friend of mine has a saying that you should never make a decision when your thinkers broke. Out of my weariness and hurt I started thinking badly. Striving to not hurt, rather than go to Christ, my spider became a relationship with another woman. With my broken thinker, I made all kinds of rationalizations (like "God brought us together", oh wow, that is so pathetic, I can't even fathom how that seemed reasonable) and decisions ("my wife will leave me if she knew", how sadly passive is that, rather than continuing to confront my problems in my marriage or leaving myself, I would give her reason to leave me. Ouch. That right there is a new realization.).
While I thought life was tough when my struggle was 'just' pride, it became continually worse as I went further and further 'prodigal'. What I thought was my second chance was really an invitation to chaos. Until the miracle. No other way for me to explain it. Maybe I just got so tired that I stopped resisting God. Whatever it was, I was yelling at God in the car "Why? Why?" and I finally heard...actually saw...like looking at a light bulb then closing your eyes, I saw the words "It's your sin." At that moment, all the fight left me and I replied "OK, I get it."
When the miracle happened, I thought God was simply referring to the affair. That ended immediately. In the almost year since that moment, I have learned that my sin encompassed so much more. My pride had to be addressed. My fears had to be presented to Him and brought out into the light. I had to learn trust rather than wear a mask. God is wise. There is no way I could have handled all that in the car; I'd have hit a literal guardrail. So much to learn.
In relating that, I hope to explain how to go to Jesus and find the place of trust. Repent. Not remorse, I had plenty of that and called it repentance. But a true identifying of my helplessness. No more playing god. Constantly remembering that Jesus came to us and that is enough. Knowing that everything may not work out like the average romantic comedy, and realizing that Jesus is enough. Jesus understands loneliness, disappointment and temptation; He experienced rejection, sadness, and abuse. We truly do have a high priest who has gone before us in all these things.
Accepting His grace and mercy in exchange for my sin. What a great swap. Trust really is that easy, but it has to be explained. It just doesn't happen. You can't say you trust God with a particular area, then play god 'just in case'. That's the sin you'll get entangled in. Trust is not denial, saying it's all good when it really is not. Trust is not an expectation that everything will get better according to your definition. Trust is shining the light on your life by sharing with openly with God and a few others. Trust is acknowledging your own helplessness and having gratitude that Jesus has not left you alone in your circumstance. Rather than being passive, that makes trust very active.
But what does it mean to trust God? It is easy to say, but hard to conceptualize. Even the title of this blog is Choosing to Trust. During the most frustrating time of my personal crisis, I can remember reading a book on marriage that made the statement about trusting God. I don't remember the context, but I do remember tearing the page out of the book in anger after angrily writing all over it "what does this mean" after any sort of exposition was lacking.
Like I said, it is easy to say or even write. Trust God. Well, no kidding, it's even printed on the back of money. (Funny sign outside a small shop while on vacation "In God we trust, all others pay cash.) In light of the trials that we will inevitably face, HOW do you trust God. My advice for anyone would be to nail this down before the trials hit, or at least the big crisis hits. You'll need something to fall back on. What does it mean to practice trust?
This took a lot of investigating, and I can honestly say that no matter what you think of this particular blog entry, dear reader, I would have paid a lot of money to read it a lot sooner. My learning, however remedial, has a large price tag attached. Jesus (who else?) really has a lot to say about what it means to trust. Some of his words are "I will be with you always", "remain in me", "If anyone is thirsty, let him come to me and drink", among many similar statements to his disciples and those following him around.
The most impactful of these statements for me is the idea of rest or a carrying of burdens. "Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest." Rest. Peace. Not a promise that everything will get better, nor a promise that everything will work our in our favor. Just a promise of faithfulness and rest. In fact, as I read much of what Jesus said to his followers, it seems mostly to boil down to a promise that he will be there. A promise, by the way, that should be comforting in and of itself.
From heaven to earth, Jesus came to us in the first place. It became painfully obvious through watching the people Israel that we would not be able to obtain righteousness through obeying the law. So He had to come to us. He became our righteousness. And He has been faithfully promising that he would be with us ever since. He'll give us springs of water flowing within, faithfully bear our burdens, give us an easy yoke, be the bread of life, and be there until the end of the age. That is really the beginning of trust, understanding that basic fact. Jesus is there. Why? Because He said so. He proved it by leaving heaven in the first place, so this is a promise that we can take to the bank.
As a kid learning to ride a bike without training wheels I knew when, on my first ride, my Dad let go of the back of my seat and I was on my own. But Dad kept running along side the bike for the entire ride. And for the second. That didn't mean I wasn't going to lose my balance and fall (I did on the first run), but it did mean he was right beside me to lean into and catch me. He was behind me, I couldn't see him, but I trusted that he was there (although, to be fair, he was huffing and puffing so I could hear him well). Same is true with Jesus. He's there. That should be enough. It is, if we've come to him.
What keeps us from going to him? Same thing that always has. The very same thing that caused Adam and Eve to hide in the bush rather than running to God walking in the garden. Hebrews 12 states it well:
let us throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily
entangles, and let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us. Let us
fix our eyes on Jesus, the author and perfecter of our faith...Consider him who
endured such opposition from sinful men, so that you will not grow weary and
lose heart.
It is our sin that keeps us from going to him. In trying to become our own gods, solve our own problems, and demonstrating our disobedience, not only are we displaying our lack of trust but it also keeps us from going to Christ. Sin entangles. Like a fly caught in a spider web that it didn't see. Sadly, the more the fly tries to escape on its own, the more stuck it becomes. Doomed to be consumed by the spider, the fly will struggle until exhaustion, probably thinking the whole time (do flies think? we'll pretend here they do) I just need another second to get free.
When we are entangled by sin, as the passage above says, we can't run the race. We get stuck. Our eyes lose focus on Jesus (who is there, like He promised) and we grow weary and lose heart. Bearing the burden on our own, carrying the yoke meant for two, we grow tired and lose heart. Quite the opposite of the rest that we are promised.
I was the fly in the web. Without seeing my own sin of pride, I struggled in my marriage that seemed so one sided. Fighting the cycle of lust, guilt, apology to God. Seeking affirmation from people I worked with and for. Frustrated by unmet expectations. I lost heart. The verses from Hebrews became a sad blue print of my life of entanglement in sin. Mostly 'acceptable' sins. Unseen by those around me because I had shut them out.
A friend of mine has a saying that you should never make a decision when your thinkers broke. Out of my weariness and hurt I started thinking badly. Striving to not hurt, rather than go to Christ, my spider became a relationship with another woman. With my broken thinker, I made all kinds of rationalizations (like "God brought us together", oh wow, that is so pathetic, I can't even fathom how that seemed reasonable) and decisions ("my wife will leave me if she knew", how sadly passive is that, rather than continuing to confront my problems in my marriage or leaving myself, I would give her reason to leave me. Ouch. That right there is a new realization.).
While I thought life was tough when my struggle was 'just' pride, it became continually worse as I went further and further 'prodigal'. What I thought was my second chance was really an invitation to chaos. Until the miracle. No other way for me to explain it. Maybe I just got so tired that I stopped resisting God. Whatever it was, I was yelling at God in the car "Why? Why?" and I finally heard...actually saw...like looking at a light bulb then closing your eyes, I saw the words "It's your sin." At that moment, all the fight left me and I replied "OK, I get it."
When the miracle happened, I thought God was simply referring to the affair. That ended immediately. In the almost year since that moment, I have learned that my sin encompassed so much more. My pride had to be addressed. My fears had to be presented to Him and brought out into the light. I had to learn trust rather than wear a mask. God is wise. There is no way I could have handled all that in the car; I'd have hit a literal guardrail. So much to learn.
In relating that, I hope to explain how to go to Jesus and find the place of trust. Repent. Not remorse, I had plenty of that and called it repentance. But a true identifying of my helplessness. No more playing god. Constantly remembering that Jesus came to us and that is enough. Knowing that everything may not work out like the average romantic comedy, and realizing that Jesus is enough. Jesus understands loneliness, disappointment and temptation; He experienced rejection, sadness, and abuse. We truly do have a high priest who has gone before us in all these things.
Accepting His grace and mercy in exchange for my sin. What a great swap. Trust really is that easy, but it has to be explained. It just doesn't happen. You can't say you trust God with a particular area, then play god 'just in case'. That's the sin you'll get entangled in. Trust is not denial, saying it's all good when it really is not. Trust is not an expectation that everything will get better according to your definition. Trust is shining the light on your life by sharing with openly with God and a few others. Trust is acknowledging your own helplessness and having gratitude that Jesus has not left you alone in your circumstance. Rather than being passive, that makes trust very active.
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