First of all, let me apologize to those who haven't been along for the journey. Suffice it to say that it's been rough. Still, I felt compelled to put this out there for anyone who wanted to read it. Maybe it will bring you hope as well.
For those who have been walking with me through the waiting, I wanted to share with you what's been happening. The best way to catch you up is to share what I wrote in my prayer journal this evening:
Jesus, it's so good to be with you. I've missed you! Over the last few weeks, especially when I've been caching, I've sensed you, but today, your presence has been tangible, and it has given me hope.
Two weeks ago, I was drawn to Jeremiah 29:11-14. It's funny because I've done retreats and lots of teaching on this passage, but it's been awhile since I've read this section of the Bible. This passage has been on my mind constantly ever since: I'll show up and take care of you as I promised and bring you back home. I know what I'm doing. I have it all planned out - plans to take care of you, not abandon you, plans to give you the future you hope for. When you call on me, when you come and pray to me, I'll listen. When you come looking for me, you'll find me. Yes, when you get serious about finding me and want it more than anything else, I'll make sure you won't be disappointed. GOD's Decree. I'll turn things around for you. I'll bring you back from all the countries into which I drove you - GOD's Decree - bring you home to the place from which I sent you off into exile. You can count on it.
Jesus, I feel like I've been in exile since I left LaPorte. But the "home" isn't an actual location for me, is it? It's your call on my life that is home. I've holding on to this promise because I believe it is your personal promise to me for this time in my life. But I've also been waiting around for you to show up. It wasn't until 2 weeks ago or so that I actually began to seek you, to ask once more for the desire to want you more than anything else - including the "escape plan".
Something happened in the car today, and that desire for you above all else came flooding back. As I sang and praised you and trusted in your promises, I became more and more aware of your presence.
I'm in Mentor, OH for an interview tomorrow. I think I like this church, but I don't know if this is where you want me. Jesus, whatever you want, wherever you want... jut make it clear to us all. I'm ready to come home. I'd like to think this is it, but I'll trust you.
Because of Jeremiah 29, Michael Card's song "I Will Bring You Home" has been playing as a promise in my head lately as well: Though you are homeless, though you're alone, I will be your home. Whatever's the matter, whatever's been done. I will be home. I will be your home. I will be your home. In this fearful, fallen place, I will be your home. When time reaches fullness, when I move my hand, I will bring you home. Home to your own place in a beautiful land. I will bring our home. I will bring you home. I will bring you home. From this fearful, fallen place, I will bring you home.
Tonight, I sat watching the sunset over Lake Erie, and I was reminded of that night before the LaPorte interview when I sat on Center Beach watching the sunset over Lake Michigan. I had a lot of garbage to sift through that night, but there was something healing and calming about that moment. I felt that again tonight.
As I sat rocking in the swing/bench, listening to the waves, watching the sunset and just enjoying your presence, the song started playing in my head again... I will bring you home. I will bring you home. From this fearful, fallen place, I will bring you home. I will be your home.
I don't know if that means I'll be serving you in Mentor, but I do know that I can trust you to fulfill your promise to me - that I won't be at GD&T forever, that in the meantime, you are my home and you are enough.
Friday, May 14, 2010
Sunday, April 25, 2010
Geocaching
Ok, so I had three different people ask me about geocaching today. I didn't have time to explain at church, and it would take too much space on facebook, so here's the basics...
Geocaching started in 2000 when the military released satellites for private use. A former military man set up caches for his friends on his land. They had so much fun, that they began hiding the caches all over the state of Washington. It didn't take long for the idea to spread, and now there are caches in every state of the US and in most countries around the world.
Caches are little "treasures" hidden in the world all around you. You've probably walked by several of them without knowing they are there. You use a hand held GPS system (not the kind that you use to drive around in your car) to find the caches based on their coordinates. The coordinates can be found at geocaching.com - the most popular site for geocachers. The coordinates are the latitude and longitude for the exact position of the cache.
Caches come in all shapes and sizes. Nanos are very small - often just big enough to roll up a small piece of paper. Micros are a bit bigger - often a 35 mm film canister or something similar in size. Smalls are peanutbutter jar sized. Regular is often an ammo can, but can also be as large as you wish.
Caches must contain a log book for cachers to sign. By the cacher code, you cannot claim finding a cache unless you have signed the log book for that cache. Caches that are large enough often contain a writing utensil and small toys. Dollar store toys, Happy Meal toys, bouncy balls, whistles, decks of cards, hot wheels, baseball cards, wet wipes, mosquito repellant, hand sanitizer and maps are the most common items found in caches, which makes caching great for kids! In larger caches, stuffed animals, coloring books, and educational materials are often found as well. The cacher code states that you may take an item from the cache, but you must leave something of equal or greater value.
Caches also contain "travel bugs" (sometimes). Travel bugs are tags that are attached to an item with a special code so that you can track the item as it passes from cache to cache. Many travel bugs have specific goals such as traveling to all 50 states or returning home from a distant land. I've even seen grandchildren pass school pictures to the grandparents 5 states away via caches!
If you're interested in experiencing goecaching, I'd be happy to introduce you!
Geocaching started in 2000 when the military released satellites for private use. A former military man set up caches for his friends on his land. They had so much fun, that they began hiding the caches all over the state of Washington. It didn't take long for the idea to spread, and now there are caches in every state of the US and in most countries around the world.
Caches are little "treasures" hidden in the world all around you. You've probably walked by several of them without knowing they are there. You use a hand held GPS system (not the kind that you use to drive around in your car) to find the caches based on their coordinates. The coordinates can be found at geocaching.com - the most popular site for geocachers. The coordinates are the latitude and longitude for the exact position of the cache.
Caches come in all shapes and sizes. Nanos are very small - often just big enough to roll up a small piece of paper. Micros are a bit bigger - often a 35 mm film canister or something similar in size. Smalls are peanutbutter jar sized. Regular is often an ammo can, but can also be as large as you wish.
Caches must contain a log book for cachers to sign. By the cacher code, you cannot claim finding a cache unless you have signed the log book for that cache. Caches that are large enough often contain a writing utensil and small toys. Dollar store toys, Happy Meal toys, bouncy balls, whistles, decks of cards, hot wheels, baseball cards, wet wipes, mosquito repellant, hand sanitizer and maps are the most common items found in caches, which makes caching great for kids! In larger caches, stuffed animals, coloring books, and educational materials are often found as well. The cacher code states that you may take an item from the cache, but you must leave something of equal or greater value.
Caches also contain "travel bugs" (sometimes). Travel bugs are tags that are attached to an item with a special code so that you can track the item as it passes from cache to cache. Many travel bugs have specific goals such as traveling to all 50 states or returning home from a distant land. I've even seen grandchildren pass school pictures to the grandparents 5 states away via caches!
If you're interested in experiencing goecaching, I'd be happy to introduce you!
Saturday, April 3, 2010
A New Perspective of the Cross
All week long, a Stephen Iverson prayer chant has been running through my head:
Can I take this weight from my shoulders, Lord, and leave it here at the foot of the cross?
So I began thinking about the cross...
It's Holy Week, so there's been a lot of talk about Jesus dying on the cross for our sins. I'm not diminishing his sacrifice or the love that led him to the cross for me, for you, for all. But I needed to take it further - or in a different direction - this year.
"Sin" is an archery term. It means "to miss the mark" or "to miss the target." Usually when we hear the word "sin", we think of things that we've done wrong - like lying or cheating or gossip. Some have a grading system for sin where lying isn't as bad as murder. But the truth of the matter is that sin is sin. It doesn't really matter what "degree" or what the sin.
But if sin means missing the mark, then isn't everything that isn't as God intended it to be sin? When I'm not my true self - the person God created me to be - isn't that sin? If I do something out of character for me because I want to impress someone or please someone, isn't that sin? When I see something that is out of sync in nature, isn't that sin? Isn't poverty and injustice sin? Anything and everything that is broken and fallen in our world is sin -not just the things that we would deem as "bad."
When I see the brokenness in the world around me and experience that brokenness in my own life, it weighs me down. It often seems so overwhelming. There doesn't seem any possibility of restoration...
Yet, it's not up to me to restore the world. It's not even up to me to restore my own soul. It is impossible for me to do anything about all this brokenness and sin. Jesus died on the cross for all sin - to redeem and restore everything that is broken and out of sync with God. My job is simply to take the weight of the world (or at least what I see and know of the world) and to leave it at the cross, to leave it with Jesus. In doing so, I accept what Jesus did on the cross - not only for me, but for the world. In doing so, I trust Jesus with everything that is wrong and dark in this world. I trust that on Easter, when we celebrate the resurrection, I can also celebrate the restoration that is taking place bit by bit because of the love and sacrifice of Jesus on the cross. In leaving the weight of the world at the foot of the cross, I also can celebrate in the life of the resurrection - life that is within me and that leads me to bring a little bit more life, hope and restoration to my corner of the world each day.
So on this Good Friday and throughout the day on Holy Saturday as we wait to celebrate the resurrection, linger a bit at the foot of the cross or at the tomb. Consider all that is broken, and allow yourself to admit your brokenness and the brokenness in the world around you. Take it to Jesus and leave it at the foot of the cross where Jesus' blood can wash over it. And trust that Jesus will be proclaimed risen on Sunday - risen and actively at work in our lives and in our world to restore what is to what was meant to be and what will one day be again.
Can I take this weight from my shoulders, Lord, and leave it here at the foot of the cross?
So I began thinking about the cross...
It's Holy Week, so there's been a lot of talk about Jesus dying on the cross for our sins. I'm not diminishing his sacrifice or the love that led him to the cross for me, for you, for all. But I needed to take it further - or in a different direction - this year.
"Sin" is an archery term. It means "to miss the mark" or "to miss the target." Usually when we hear the word "sin", we think of things that we've done wrong - like lying or cheating or gossip. Some have a grading system for sin where lying isn't as bad as murder. But the truth of the matter is that sin is sin. It doesn't really matter what "degree" or what the sin.
But if sin means missing the mark, then isn't everything that isn't as God intended it to be sin? When I'm not my true self - the person God created me to be - isn't that sin? If I do something out of character for me because I want to impress someone or please someone, isn't that sin? When I see something that is out of sync in nature, isn't that sin? Isn't poverty and injustice sin? Anything and everything that is broken and fallen in our world is sin -not just the things that we would deem as "bad."
When I see the brokenness in the world around me and experience that brokenness in my own life, it weighs me down. It often seems so overwhelming. There doesn't seem any possibility of restoration...
Yet, it's not up to me to restore the world. It's not even up to me to restore my own soul. It is impossible for me to do anything about all this brokenness and sin. Jesus died on the cross for all sin - to redeem and restore everything that is broken and out of sync with God. My job is simply to take the weight of the world (or at least what I see and know of the world) and to leave it at the cross, to leave it with Jesus. In doing so, I accept what Jesus did on the cross - not only for me, but for the world. In doing so, I trust Jesus with everything that is wrong and dark in this world. I trust that on Easter, when we celebrate the resurrection, I can also celebrate the restoration that is taking place bit by bit because of the love and sacrifice of Jesus on the cross. In leaving the weight of the world at the foot of the cross, I also can celebrate in the life of the resurrection - life that is within me and that leads me to bring a little bit more life, hope and restoration to my corner of the world each day.
So on this Good Friday and throughout the day on Holy Saturday as we wait to celebrate the resurrection, linger a bit at the foot of the cross or at the tomb. Consider all that is broken, and allow yourself to admit your brokenness and the brokenness in the world around you. Take it to Jesus and leave it at the foot of the cross where Jesus' blood can wash over it. And trust that Jesus will be proclaimed risen on Sunday - risen and actively at work in our lives and in our world to restore what is to what was meant to be and what will one day be again.
Update
I know I haven't posted in quite a while. I also know that my last post freaked some of you out. I'd apologize for that except that I'm not a bit sorry that I posted it...
Something happened when I sent that. For those that know me well, you know how difficult it was for me to be that vulnerable, and I guess I was hoping for some kind if insightful response that would make everything OK. That miracle response never came, but something changed for me after I posted that. A bit of hope began stirring deep within me.
Nothing in my situation changed, but slowly something has changed - perhaps it's just me. Little things have encouraged me along the way - an email from Stephen, a phone call from Lilly, a few minutes to sit and talk with Shawn, lunch with Randy, a snowstorm that left everything sparkling like diamonds, a week of sunshine and warm weather, encouragement from Mike, some reinforcement from Jack, the possibility of working for YouthWorks - even if it's only for the summer...
So, I don't have anything specific or any great revelation, but I'm OK for now. I haven't clearly heard Jesus speak to me or had the same sense of his presence that I've often had in the past, but all of these little things add up. I have a feeling that someday I'll be having a conversation about this phase of the journey with Jesus, and he'll point to Stephen's emails, Lilly's calls, Jack's comment, that lunch with Randy, Shawn's allowing me to continue to play and lead worship... and he'll say, "See, I hadn't abandoned you. I was there all along."
To those who carried me along on your prayers when I couldn't seem to pray myself, to those who gave words to my struggles when I couldn't find the words, to those who simple listened, to those who cried with me, to those who hoped and believed enough for both of us... thank you. I am so blessed to have friends such as you, and I thank you for "taking me to my Lord."
I think the rest is up to me - and Jesus.
Something happened when I sent that. For those that know me well, you know how difficult it was for me to be that vulnerable, and I guess I was hoping for some kind if insightful response that would make everything OK. That miracle response never came, but something changed for me after I posted that. A bit of hope began stirring deep within me.
Nothing in my situation changed, but slowly something has changed - perhaps it's just me. Little things have encouraged me along the way - an email from Stephen, a phone call from Lilly, a few minutes to sit and talk with Shawn, lunch with Randy, a snowstorm that left everything sparkling like diamonds, a week of sunshine and warm weather, encouragement from Mike, some reinforcement from Jack, the possibility of working for YouthWorks - even if it's only for the summer...
So, I don't have anything specific or any great revelation, but I'm OK for now. I haven't clearly heard Jesus speak to me or had the same sense of his presence that I've often had in the past, but all of these little things add up. I have a feeling that someday I'll be having a conversation about this phase of the journey with Jesus, and he'll point to Stephen's emails, Lilly's calls, Jack's comment, that lunch with Randy, Shawn's allowing me to continue to play and lead worship... and he'll say, "See, I hadn't abandoned you. I was there all along."
To those who carried me along on your prayers when I couldn't seem to pray myself, to those who gave words to my struggles when I couldn't find the words, to those who simple listened, to those who cried with me, to those who hoped and believed enough for both of us... thank you. I am so blessed to have friends such as you, and I thank you for "taking me to my Lord."
I think the rest is up to me - and Jesus.
Friday, February 19, 2010
Brutal Honesty
First of all, please read the WHOLE thing. I know it's long, but it's the best snapshot of what's been going on with me that I can give you. Second, know that this is the brutal, honest truth about where I've been this week. There is no polishing or trying to put a positive spin on things to make us all feel better. Just pure honesty from this week's journey. Finally, this is a HUGE RISK for me as I'm not usually this completely vulnerable with people - and for some of you this will be a first. Please, at least, let me know that you've read it - a phone call, email, FB message, or blog comment - however you wish. For some reason, I need to know to whom I've really bared my soul.
OK, so the last week or so has been pretty rough. I told Shawn and Stephen on Sunday that I couldn't stop "the bleeding" (or the tears - which is VERY unusual for me). Usually a few tears welling up is as emotional as I get - at least in public. Overwhelming floods of tears for days on end is not normally my thing. I think the best way to share where I've been on this part of the journey is to share bits of my journaling - which are bits of my prayers - with you:
From 2/14: I feel so alone. And I feel selfish and guilty for being so emotional and teary. What right do I have to feel this way? ... My basic needs are being met. What right do I have to feel so beaten and bruised? ... The thing is that I miss you, Jesus. I can't deal with all of this without you. I want to trust that you are good, that there is a purpose for all of this, that I'm not disappointing you, that you do carrying me close to your heart. But none of that seems true right now. ... So I'm alone again. Trapped in a life that seems like prison. ... I don't know how to stop the bleeding. I don't think I can keep doing life this way. I need you, Jesus. I need to hear your voice. I need to feel your presence. I need hope.
From 2/17 (or actually early Thursday morning): So at work for the past 2 nights, I have been thinking about all this that's going on and why you would abandon me. Abandonment or punishment are the only things that make sense because if this is anything else, then everything I believe about you is wrong. And though I believe you let us suffer the consequences of our choices, I don't believe you set out to punish us, so I guess you have abandoned me. Which still violates promises that I have believed, things that I have thought to be true about you.
Then I started thinking about fear. When you turned my world and my faith upside down after DuBois, there was a lot of fear involved. So what am I afraid of this time? ... I'm afraid you do want me to stay here forever. I'm afraid that this is all that there is for the rest of my life. I'm afraid that you want to take my dreams and my passions away from me - the last bits of hope I have to hold on to.
You've taken everything else. Why not? ... And if I have to live a life separated from my call, from what I love? It's like dying every day. I can't see a way out. At what point does the body finally give out as well? At this point, I'd welcome death. I've thought so much about gunning my car at the bottom of Mullen instead of hitting the brakes. But in reality, I would just smash into the guard rail and wreck my car. I can't actually commit suicide. It leaves too much pain behind, and I would never do that. I can't even bear the thought of what that would do to some of the people I love the most. ...
I followed the link to Donald Miller's blog from Sunday. It was about plowing the field and taking care of your own farm. I get that. But he kept talking about not moving to a bigger field if you are where you are supposed to be, doing what you love. I don't think either is true of me right now.
So now what? If it's true that you've been watching me fall apart, what else is there to break? My soul, my heart, my dreams - everything is in shambles. When does the starting to "be made whole again" part happen? Or do I just become a casualty?
If it would help, I'd give you what I love, but I don't even have those opportunities to give right now. And if you want me to give up any semblance of dreaming, well... that's all the hope I have right now. It's the only thing that is keeping me going. ... But if that's what you want, you can have it.
From 2/19: Even after 2 relatively sleepless nights, I only managed to get 2 hours of sleep before I woke and felt compelled to get up and journal this morning. ...
This week has been rough. The bleeding that started Saturday night just continued. I cried all day Sunday, and tears kept springing up at the most inopportune times during the week. Tears, aching, that deep longing, complete despair - all were present throughout the week. But despite being exhausted today, something has changed. The bleeding has stopped. Something happened when I had it out with you on Wednesday night/Thursday morning. First the tears stopped. I actually went all day yesterday without bursting into sobs. Then I actually drove to and from work last night without looking for a steep bank with no guard rail. And now, the slightest bit of relief is allowing me to write/pray with some hope.
Is that you, Jesus? Was it that you just wanted me to let go of my dreams and what I love? I did that in a fit of sarcasm, fear, anger and hopelessness - desperate to stop the pain, but was it what you've wanted from me all along?
Now what? Do I simply become content with metrology, Meadville, this isolated life? Or do you have something better for me now that I truly have nothing left to call "mine"? ...
For the first time in a longtime, I can actually say and mean this: Whatever you want, wherever you lead, I will follow. I do trust you. I trust that you are good, merciful, loving and have my best interests at heart. I trust that you haven't forgotten about me, that you still know my name, that you've not only seen all the tears, but that you've sobbed and ached right alongside me. I trust that one day I will feel your presence and hear your voice again, that you are leading me somewhere, that you will see me made whole again, that I am still your beloved, that you still love me, still have called me. And I have hope that you are still proud to be my Savior.
OK, so the last week or so has been pretty rough. I told Shawn and Stephen on Sunday that I couldn't stop "the bleeding" (or the tears - which is VERY unusual for me). Usually a few tears welling up is as emotional as I get - at least in public. Overwhelming floods of tears for days on end is not normally my thing. I think the best way to share where I've been on this part of the journey is to share bits of my journaling - which are bits of my prayers - with you:
From 2/14: I feel so alone. And I feel selfish and guilty for being so emotional and teary. What right do I have to feel this way? ... My basic needs are being met. What right do I have to feel so beaten and bruised? ... The thing is that I miss you, Jesus. I can't deal with all of this without you. I want to trust that you are good, that there is a purpose for all of this, that I'm not disappointing you, that you do carrying me close to your heart. But none of that seems true right now. ... So I'm alone again. Trapped in a life that seems like prison. ... I don't know how to stop the bleeding. I don't think I can keep doing life this way. I need you, Jesus. I need to hear your voice. I need to feel your presence. I need hope.
From 2/17 (or actually early Thursday morning): So at work for the past 2 nights, I have been thinking about all this that's going on and why you would abandon me. Abandonment or punishment are the only things that make sense because if this is anything else, then everything I believe about you is wrong. And though I believe you let us suffer the consequences of our choices, I don't believe you set out to punish us, so I guess you have abandoned me. Which still violates promises that I have believed, things that I have thought to be true about you.
Then I started thinking about fear. When you turned my world and my faith upside down after DuBois, there was a lot of fear involved. So what am I afraid of this time? ... I'm afraid you do want me to stay here forever. I'm afraid that this is all that there is for the rest of my life. I'm afraid that you want to take my dreams and my passions away from me - the last bits of hope I have to hold on to.
You've taken everything else. Why not? ... And if I have to live a life separated from my call, from what I love? It's like dying every day. I can't see a way out. At what point does the body finally give out as well? At this point, I'd welcome death. I've thought so much about gunning my car at the bottom of Mullen instead of hitting the brakes. But in reality, I would just smash into the guard rail and wreck my car. I can't actually commit suicide. It leaves too much pain behind, and I would never do that. I can't even bear the thought of what that would do to some of the people I love the most. ...
I followed the link to Donald Miller's blog from Sunday. It was about plowing the field and taking care of your own farm. I get that. But he kept talking about not moving to a bigger field if you are where you are supposed to be, doing what you love. I don't think either is true of me right now.
So now what? If it's true that you've been watching me fall apart, what else is there to break? My soul, my heart, my dreams - everything is in shambles. When does the starting to "be made whole again" part happen? Or do I just become a casualty?
If it would help, I'd give you what I love, but I don't even have those opportunities to give right now. And if you want me to give up any semblance of dreaming, well... that's all the hope I have right now. It's the only thing that is keeping me going. ... But if that's what you want, you can have it.
From 2/19: Even after 2 relatively sleepless nights, I only managed to get 2 hours of sleep before I woke and felt compelled to get up and journal this morning. ...
This week has been rough. The bleeding that started Saturday night just continued. I cried all day Sunday, and tears kept springing up at the most inopportune times during the week. Tears, aching, that deep longing, complete despair - all were present throughout the week. But despite being exhausted today, something has changed. The bleeding has stopped. Something happened when I had it out with you on Wednesday night/Thursday morning. First the tears stopped. I actually went all day yesterday without bursting into sobs. Then I actually drove to and from work last night without looking for a steep bank with no guard rail. And now, the slightest bit of relief is allowing me to write/pray with some hope.
Is that you, Jesus? Was it that you just wanted me to let go of my dreams and what I love? I did that in a fit of sarcasm, fear, anger and hopelessness - desperate to stop the pain, but was it what you've wanted from me all along?
Now what? Do I simply become content with metrology, Meadville, this isolated life? Or do you have something better for me now that I truly have nothing left to call "mine"? ...
For the first time in a longtime, I can actually say and mean this: Whatever you want, wherever you lead, I will follow. I do trust you. I trust that you are good, merciful, loving and have my best interests at heart. I trust that you haven't forgotten about me, that you still know my name, that you've not only seen all the tears, but that you've sobbed and ached right alongside me. I trust that one day I will feel your presence and hear your voice again, that you are leading me somewhere, that you will see me made whole again, that I am still your beloved, that you still love me, still have called me. And I have hope that you are still proud to be my Savior.
Sunday, February 14, 2010
Focal Points of Frustration?
Shawn has noticed a pattern in my life - a pattern that goes way back to jr. high and high school. He mentioned it to me last week, and I've spent quite a bit of time this week thinking about his observation that it seems that I always have someone who is the "focal point of my frustrations."
Like most people, lots of things people do frustrate me. I get frustrated when people tell me that what I've experienced or what I know to be true is wrong. I get frustrated when people pretend all the time. I get frustrated when someone holds me back from something I really want to do. But these are usually one-time frustrations. I get upset in the moment, let it go, and move on. When these kinds of things happen, it's not lasting, and I usually can continue to treat the people the same way I did prior to the frustration with no problem.
But Shawn was right - almost. I don't ALWAYS have someone who becomes the focus of all my frustrations, but it is does occur with some frequency. I made a list of all the people in my life about whom I could remember having this feeling. It took several days to work through my feelings and potential reasons for my feelings about these people, but finally a single pattern was revealed.
Apparently I have a problem with authority. I don't like people telling me what to do, how to do it or not to do something. I should clarify that I don't have a problem with all authority. There have been a number of teachers, coaches, principals, pastors, etc. who have had authority over me, and I've accepted their leadership with no problem. So what's the difference between these people and the ones who become the focus of all my antagonism and opposition?
It comes down to trust. At the moment, Shawn is in a leadership position over me. But I trust Shawn. I understand what he is trying to do. I want to support Shawn in those efforts, and, even if I don't agree with him about something, I trust that Shawn has my best interests (and the interests of those he serves) at heart. So I will do what Shawn asks of me without complaining or fighting him. Doug (former senior pastor) was obviously in authority over me. But Doug always had my back, even when we didn't agree. I didn't always agree with Doug, but I trusted him. I knew that Doug wanted what was best for me, for my students, and for the church, so when he asked me to do something, I did it without questioning him. These are just a few examples. The people who have had authority over me but who have demonstrated a desire to make decisions and do what is best for the people in their care have always had my respect, my trust, my loyalty.
But I've had other people in authority over me (or people I love) who haven't earned my respect, my trust, my loyalty or anything other than my frustration, antagonism, anger and sometimes blatant disregard for anything they have to offer. They have all done things that have hurt me, or worse, hurt the people I care about the most. I have seen them act in such a way as to abuse their power, their position, or their authority. I feel completely powerless to stop them, to correct the situation, to do anything about the damage that they are doing to people. I hate that these people are often undermining my efforts to help people, to teach my students, to point people to Jesus. So I fight back. And with me, it's all or nothing, so I can't accept even the good things that these people are trying to do.
And yet, perhaps in all this fighting back, I've only been doing more damage to my own soul. Dave doesn't care what he did to me, to my students, to my youth team. It hasn't bothered him one bit over the last 7 years. I'm sure that Henegan or Reyer haven't had a second thought about everything that happened at Maplewood. I'm pretty sure that none of the people who have been the "focal point of my frustrations" - as Shawn so gently put it - have lost one second of sleep.
So who are they really hurting? I've seen the life impact some of these people have had on the people I care about, and I let that hurt and anger bury itself deep within me - at least until I can escape the ramifications of being under their authority. Justified or not, this only hurts me. It takes time to heal from these deeply buried toxins, and I often think I've forgiven and moved on only to have everything surface again later. Forgiveness is a long process, and even after forgiveness has been granted, the effects of these toxins linger.
I wonder how my own actions, words, attitudes towards these authority figures has further hurt those that I love so dearly. The thought that it is my fault that some of these precious people have stepped further away from Jesus or have struggled in their own lives is devastating.
Even the midst of these situations, I have been able to recognize that eventually I will be able to forgive, to let go. Eventually, that is able to happen. It becomes part of my story, shapes the way I move forward, but I am eventually able to forgive. However, what if the people who get caught in the middle aren't able to forgive? What if their bitterness or anger over what they observed settles deep within them? What if the things I have said or done causes them to deeply resent the people who still have authority over them? What if, because of my responses, they blame God for the things that have happened to me or to them? What if my resentment of these people has filled those I love with deadly toxins from which they can't recover?
Like most people, lots of things people do frustrate me. I get frustrated when people tell me that what I've experienced or what I know to be true is wrong. I get frustrated when people pretend all the time. I get frustrated when someone holds me back from something I really want to do. But these are usually one-time frustrations. I get upset in the moment, let it go, and move on. When these kinds of things happen, it's not lasting, and I usually can continue to treat the people the same way I did prior to the frustration with no problem.
But Shawn was right - almost. I don't ALWAYS have someone who becomes the focus of all my frustrations, but it is does occur with some frequency. I made a list of all the people in my life about whom I could remember having this feeling. It took several days to work through my feelings and potential reasons for my feelings about these people, but finally a single pattern was revealed.
Apparently I have a problem with authority. I don't like people telling me what to do, how to do it or not to do something. I should clarify that I don't have a problem with all authority. There have been a number of teachers, coaches, principals, pastors, etc. who have had authority over me, and I've accepted their leadership with no problem. So what's the difference between these people and the ones who become the focus of all my antagonism and opposition?
It comes down to trust. At the moment, Shawn is in a leadership position over me. But I trust Shawn. I understand what he is trying to do. I want to support Shawn in those efforts, and, even if I don't agree with him about something, I trust that Shawn has my best interests (and the interests of those he serves) at heart. So I will do what Shawn asks of me without complaining or fighting him. Doug (former senior pastor) was obviously in authority over me. But Doug always had my back, even when we didn't agree. I didn't always agree with Doug, but I trusted him. I knew that Doug wanted what was best for me, for my students, and for the church, so when he asked me to do something, I did it without questioning him. These are just a few examples. The people who have had authority over me but who have demonstrated a desire to make decisions and do what is best for the people in their care have always had my respect, my trust, my loyalty.
But I've had other people in authority over me (or people I love) who haven't earned my respect, my trust, my loyalty or anything other than my frustration, antagonism, anger and sometimes blatant disregard for anything they have to offer. They have all done things that have hurt me, or worse, hurt the people I care about the most. I have seen them act in such a way as to abuse their power, their position, or their authority. I feel completely powerless to stop them, to correct the situation, to do anything about the damage that they are doing to people. I hate that these people are often undermining my efforts to help people, to teach my students, to point people to Jesus. So I fight back. And with me, it's all or nothing, so I can't accept even the good things that these people are trying to do.
And yet, perhaps in all this fighting back, I've only been doing more damage to my own soul. Dave doesn't care what he did to me, to my students, to my youth team. It hasn't bothered him one bit over the last 7 years. I'm sure that Henegan or Reyer haven't had a second thought about everything that happened at Maplewood. I'm pretty sure that none of the people who have been the "focal point of my frustrations" - as Shawn so gently put it - have lost one second of sleep.
So who are they really hurting? I've seen the life impact some of these people have had on the people I care about, and I let that hurt and anger bury itself deep within me - at least until I can escape the ramifications of being under their authority. Justified or not, this only hurts me. It takes time to heal from these deeply buried toxins, and I often think I've forgiven and moved on only to have everything surface again later. Forgiveness is a long process, and even after forgiveness has been granted, the effects of these toxins linger.
I wonder how my own actions, words, attitudes towards these authority figures has further hurt those that I love so dearly. The thought that it is my fault that some of these precious people have stepped further away from Jesus or have struggled in their own lives is devastating.
Even the midst of these situations, I have been able to recognize that eventually I will be able to forgive, to let go. Eventually, that is able to happen. It becomes part of my story, shapes the way I move forward, but I am eventually able to forgive. However, what if the people who get caught in the middle aren't able to forgive? What if their bitterness or anger over what they observed settles deep within them? What if the things I have said or done causes them to deeply resent the people who still have authority over them? What if, because of my responses, they blame God for the things that have happened to me or to them? What if my resentment of these people has filled those I love with deadly toxins from which they can't recover?
Overwhelmed
As we sat and prayed with the Praise Team tonight, I was struck with an overwhelming sadness and frustration. You all know my situaiton. I'm tired of waiting. I'm tired of being alone to deal with all this (OK, not alone because you're along on the journey, but you know what I mean). I'm tired of feeling like a complete failure. I hate my job to the point that I dread going each day and actually get physically sick most days as I head out for another long, soul-crushing night of sitting in front of a machine. I miss hearing/feeling the presence of God in my life. But it seems that as much as I'm having to deal with at the moment, I'm one of the lucky ones.
Sitting around the circle are people who are dealing with major tragedies. Heartache was in abundance. Tears were near the surface for many of us, and a few spilled out despite our unwillingness to cry in that moment. There was just so much pain and frustration sitting there. It was overwhelming.
What right do I have to feel the way I do? I have a job. I'm able to cover my financial obligations at the moment. My family isn't falling apart. I have a place to live. I'm not having to mourn the death of a loved one. I have clean water to drink and food to eat. I'm not dealing with a disease. I'm just struggling with God's call on my life and his seeming lack of presence at the moment. What's the big deal?
And yet, I do feel this way. Which makes me feel selfish and a bit guilty. And I'm not sure what to do with all this.
Sitting around the circle are people who are dealing with major tragedies. Heartache was in abundance. Tears were near the surface for many of us, and a few spilled out despite our unwillingness to cry in that moment. There was just so much pain and frustration sitting there. It was overwhelming.
What right do I have to feel the way I do? I have a job. I'm able to cover my financial obligations at the moment. My family isn't falling apart. I have a place to live. I'm not having to mourn the death of a loved one. I have clean water to drink and food to eat. I'm not dealing with a disease. I'm just struggling with God's call on my life and his seeming lack of presence at the moment. What's the big deal?
And yet, I do feel this way. Which makes me feel selfish and a bit guilty. And I'm not sure what to do with all this.
Friday, February 12, 2010
Glimmers
This may seem to be a collection of unrelated bits, but they are all connected with this struggle about ministry. Bear with me and feel free to give any insights you have to any or all of the pieces:
So for the last several weeks, I've been really questioning my call. Am I called to youth ministry? Am I called to prayer/alternate worship ministry? Am I called to ministry within a church? Am I called to any ministry at all? It has seemed that there is no hope of ever escaping the soul-crushing job that I am currently working, and I keep being told that if I would just accept that this as life, I would learn to be happy. I have to admit that if it wasn't such a struggle to get ready, go to work and sit there for 10 hours each day feeling the life and passion slowly drain from me, I would be much happier. So the questions keep resurfacing... am I called to do some sort of ministry? Can I be fulfilled/passionate/happy doing anything else? Has the ministry of which I've been apart over the last 13 years made a difference or have I been wasting my time?
Scott is an immature 20, but is a good kid. He is the only other person on the night shift with me. We don't have much in common, and our work stations are at opposite ends of the building, so we don't talk much. But Scott was faced with dealing with death for the first time this week. His grandmother had a massive stroke, the family made the decision to pull life support, they watched her die for almost a week, and the funeral was Tuesday. Scott asked me for advice on how to deal with everything, and all I could tell him was an echo of what Stephen told me a few weeks ago: Feel what you feel, and don't let anyone tell you it's wrong to feel that way. The other bit of hope I offered him was that it wouldn't always hurt as much as it does right now. Last night, he told me that he appreciated me not telling him what to feel or how to deal with everything. He also thanked me for just listening when he returned to work on Wednesday night. He said he felt better because of what I had done, and when I said I hadn't done anything, he responded "But you are here for me."
I was having a brief conversation with Shawn about the weather, and I mentioned Andrew (Marin) being stuck in D.C., which led to talking about Andrew's work. There's something about reaching out to the GLBT community that has been percolating within me for a long time. That got me thinking about an experience I had in Cincy this fall: It was early in the morning, and I was headed over to the Sanctuary space to support Lilly's effort at Morning Prayers and then have 2nd breakfast with her. I step into the elevator with a mom and a young teen boy who was excitedly talking. Being exhausted already, I made some comment about someone being way too excited for that early in the morning, and the boy looked at me said, "I've been waiting for this weekend for a long time. My mom promised me a trip to the city if I wouldn't tell my 7th grade class that I'm gay." He continued rattling on, but I was watching his mom stare at my name tag and slowly pull her son as far away from me as they could get in a small elevator. I turned my attention back to the boy, Isaac, and engaged him for the remainder of the ride to the lobby. As we exited, I started to wish them a great day, when the mom, Carolyn, put her hand on my arm to stop me. "Could we talk?" she asked as tears ran down her face.
Carolyn sent Isaac on to breakfast, and she and I spent 10-15 minutes sitting in a quiet corner of the lobby. She spilled her entire story... how she and her husband couldn't have children, how Isaac had been adopted, why they named him Isaac (after the biblical story of Isaac), how they knew early on that Isaac was different than the other boys, how Isaac proclaimed to them that he was gay in 6th grade, how their church pushed them away because everyone knew Isaac was gay, how her husband had slowly drifted away from them because he was ashamed of Isaac, how she wasn't sure if their marriage was going to survive. Again, I just listened... mostly because I didn't know what to say or how to respond to a perfect stranger spilling all these personal details. She then told me a how there had been some guys from the convention (same tags) in the elevator with them the night before. They had engaged Isaac but physically stepped back from him when Isaac said something that tipped them off to his being gay. As they exited the elevator, one of the guys said, "You should find a local church to attend. They can help you fix him." She told me that was why she was so scared and wanted Isaac away from me in the elevator. And then she thanked me for listening and told me that it was good to know that there was at least one Christian who didn't hate her because of her son or hate her son. We prayed, I gave her contact info for me and for Andrew, and she went off for her special day with her son. Most likely, I will never hear from Carolyn or Isaac again, but that encounter changed me. It made a difference for me, and hopefully it made a lasting difference for them.
I was tired and drained but wanting to spend time with an old friend last week. We were just catching up when she brought up T.A.G. Ministries (prayer/alt. worship/experiential worship). Immediately I was energized and excited. She even commented on how passionate I was as I spoke about the possibilities. The same thing happened later on when Lilly called to get a few ideas for an upcoming retreat. I was on my way to work and dragging every step of the way, but the ideas started flowing, I was all wound up, and I wished that we had more time to talk and create together.
I had a phone interview this afternoon with a church in Wilmette, IL. I was actually dreading it because the website presented the church as a "prosperity gospel" type church. The pastor confirmed that as we spoke, and he confirmed that I probably am not the person the church is looking for. That being said, he asked if he could pick my brain anyway. We talked for almost 45 minutes about being present - to God and to each other, experiential worship, contemplative prayer and prayer practices, building community, not pretending, and being willing to disrupt the status quo if God leads you in another direction. I probably won't hear from that church again, but the pastor was impressed with my honesty and my passion for not "playing church." He said that I would be an asset to the church because I wouldn't disciple students to become star atheletes and super students, but I would actually challenge them to become followers of Jesus. He actually told me that he felt convicted about how he was playing the game in order to keep this nice, wealthy, North Shore church happy, and, in turn, keep his salary coming.
So, as I'm trying to process all this, I happened to look out the window. It's been cloudy and gray all day, but in that precise moment, it started to snow those HUGE snowflakes... just slowly drifting down. Then a small ray of sun burst through the clouds and made all those big snowflakes shimmer - just for a second. It was the most beautiful thing I've seen in a very long time. And with it came the tiniest glimmer of hope...
So for the last several weeks, I've been really questioning my call. Am I called to youth ministry? Am I called to prayer/alternate worship ministry? Am I called to ministry within a church? Am I called to any ministry at all? It has seemed that there is no hope of ever escaping the soul-crushing job that I am currently working, and I keep being told that if I would just accept that this as life, I would learn to be happy. I have to admit that if it wasn't such a struggle to get ready, go to work and sit there for 10 hours each day feeling the life and passion slowly drain from me, I would be much happier. So the questions keep resurfacing... am I called to do some sort of ministry? Can I be fulfilled/passionate/happy doing anything else? Has the ministry of which I've been apart over the last 13 years made a difference or have I been wasting my time?
Scott is an immature 20, but is a good kid. He is the only other person on the night shift with me. We don't have much in common, and our work stations are at opposite ends of the building, so we don't talk much. But Scott was faced with dealing with death for the first time this week. His grandmother had a massive stroke, the family made the decision to pull life support, they watched her die for almost a week, and the funeral was Tuesday. Scott asked me for advice on how to deal with everything, and all I could tell him was an echo of what Stephen told me a few weeks ago: Feel what you feel, and don't let anyone tell you it's wrong to feel that way. The other bit of hope I offered him was that it wouldn't always hurt as much as it does right now. Last night, he told me that he appreciated me not telling him what to feel or how to deal with everything. He also thanked me for just listening when he returned to work on Wednesday night. He said he felt better because of what I had done, and when I said I hadn't done anything, he responded "But you are here for me."
I was having a brief conversation with Shawn about the weather, and I mentioned Andrew (Marin) being stuck in D.C., which led to talking about Andrew's work. There's something about reaching out to the GLBT community that has been percolating within me for a long time. That got me thinking about an experience I had in Cincy this fall: It was early in the morning, and I was headed over to the Sanctuary space to support Lilly's effort at Morning Prayers and then have 2nd breakfast with her. I step into the elevator with a mom and a young teen boy who was excitedly talking. Being exhausted already, I made some comment about someone being way too excited for that early in the morning, and the boy looked at me said, "I've been waiting for this weekend for a long time. My mom promised me a trip to the city if I wouldn't tell my 7th grade class that I'm gay." He continued rattling on, but I was watching his mom stare at my name tag and slowly pull her son as far away from me as they could get in a small elevator. I turned my attention back to the boy, Isaac, and engaged him for the remainder of the ride to the lobby. As we exited, I started to wish them a great day, when the mom, Carolyn, put her hand on my arm to stop me. "Could we talk?" she asked as tears ran down her face.
Carolyn sent Isaac on to breakfast, and she and I spent 10-15 minutes sitting in a quiet corner of the lobby. She spilled her entire story... how she and her husband couldn't have children, how Isaac had been adopted, why they named him Isaac (after the biblical story of Isaac), how they knew early on that Isaac was different than the other boys, how Isaac proclaimed to them that he was gay in 6th grade, how their church pushed them away because everyone knew Isaac was gay, how her husband had slowly drifted away from them because he was ashamed of Isaac, how she wasn't sure if their marriage was going to survive. Again, I just listened... mostly because I didn't know what to say or how to respond to a perfect stranger spilling all these personal details. She then told me a how there had been some guys from the convention (same tags) in the elevator with them the night before. They had engaged Isaac but physically stepped back from him when Isaac said something that tipped them off to his being gay. As they exited the elevator, one of the guys said, "You should find a local church to attend. They can help you fix him." She told me that was why she was so scared and wanted Isaac away from me in the elevator. And then she thanked me for listening and told me that it was good to know that there was at least one Christian who didn't hate her because of her son or hate her son. We prayed, I gave her contact info for me and for Andrew, and she went off for her special day with her son. Most likely, I will never hear from Carolyn or Isaac again, but that encounter changed me. It made a difference for me, and hopefully it made a lasting difference for them.
I was tired and drained but wanting to spend time with an old friend last week. We were just catching up when she brought up T.A.G. Ministries (prayer/alt. worship/experiential worship). Immediately I was energized and excited. She even commented on how passionate I was as I spoke about the possibilities. The same thing happened later on when Lilly called to get a few ideas for an upcoming retreat. I was on my way to work and dragging every step of the way, but the ideas started flowing, I was all wound up, and I wished that we had more time to talk and create together.
I had a phone interview this afternoon with a church in Wilmette, IL. I was actually dreading it because the website presented the church as a "prosperity gospel" type church. The pastor confirmed that as we spoke, and he confirmed that I probably am not the person the church is looking for. That being said, he asked if he could pick my brain anyway. We talked for almost 45 minutes about being present - to God and to each other, experiential worship, contemplative prayer and prayer practices, building community, not pretending, and being willing to disrupt the status quo if God leads you in another direction. I probably won't hear from that church again, but the pastor was impressed with my honesty and my passion for not "playing church." He said that I would be an asset to the church because I wouldn't disciple students to become star atheletes and super students, but I would actually challenge them to become followers of Jesus. He actually told me that he felt convicted about how he was playing the game in order to keep this nice, wealthy, North Shore church happy, and, in turn, keep his salary coming.
So, as I'm trying to process all this, I happened to look out the window. It's been cloudy and gray all day, but in that precise moment, it started to snow those HUGE snowflakes... just slowly drifting down. Then a small ray of sun burst through the clouds and made all those big snowflakes shimmer - just for a second. It was the most beautiful thing I've seen in a very long time. And with it came the tiniest glimmer of hope...
Saturday, February 6, 2010
Not "Father", but "Daddy"
When I was little, I had these pajamas that said "My Heart Belongs to Daddy." I was only 2 or 3 when I received that first set of those pjs, and because I loved them so much, my mom went back and bought several pairs of them in different sizes so that I had a set of them until I was probably 7 or so. I loved those pjs because my dad and I had this little game we played everytime I wore them. I would come downstairs in my pjs, and my dad would scoop me up, hold me close and say, "Now what on earth is that on your pajamas?" I would snuggle even closer and say, "My heart belongs to Daddy." Dad would say, "And why does your heart belong to Daddy?" and I would respond, "Because my Daddy loves me." And Dad would say, "That's right. I love you and my heart belongs to you." At that point, tickles or a kiss and a good night would send me off to bed, safe and secure in the special love and bond between father and daughter.
When I was little, I knew my dad cherished me. He delighted in me. I would run to greet him when he came home from work, and he would toss me high in the air and catch me. I loved the thrill of flying through the air, but it was only because I knew I would land safely in my daddy's arms again. There was such joy for both of us in those kinds of moments.
My dad was proud of me too. I think he was more excited than I was when we discovered that I could read. He bragged to all his friends about how smart and precocious I was as a little girl. He kept a picture of me and my first fish (4 nice perch) in his wallet to show all his coworkers. He'd slip me a pack of baseball cards and tell me how proud he was of the way I helped mom around the house.
My daddy wanted to spend time with me. He would play games with me. He would take me fishing - just the two of us out in the middle of Pymatuning. He would curl up in the bean bag with me and read me stories. He was patient when teaching me things. I learned how to bottle feed a calf, and then how to get that calf to drink from a bucket. I learned how to cast a fishing line. I learned how to hit a baseball and throw properly. I learned how to batter and fry fish. I learned how to drive a tractor. Dad wanted to show me places that were special to him, so we hiked through the "Big Woods" (Allegheny National Forest) with my daddy carrying me on his shoulders when I got tired. When we took a family vacation through New England, Dad took me to the top of a cliff overlooking the ocean in Maine, and we sat and watched the sunrise together.
These are some of my best memories of childhood and of being with my daddy.
Somewhere around age 9 or 10, things started to change. My dad quit spending all that special time with me. When we did play ball in the backyard, it was because he wanted me to improve my hitting or my fielding. It became drills and demanding perfection rather than special time with daddy. We quit taking those hikes through the Big Woods. He never curled up in the bean bag with me to read or played Legos any more. We rarely went fishing alone, and if we did, he was always correcting me. I managed to catch a snag one day, and instead of patiently helping me or simply cutting the line, he ripped my favorite fishing pole out of my hands. The next thing I knew, my favorite pole and best reel were at the bottom of Lake Wilhem. I think that was the day that I knew something had changed.
Mom started referring to dad only as "your father." Interaction with him was limited as he was silent, withdrawn or angry most of the time. I kept trying to get my daddy back, or at least my daddy's attention back, but I was never quite successful. What I didn't know at the time was that his work was eating his soul (something I understand quite well now) and that he and my mom weren't getting along. "Your father" was this angry, unapproachable, demanding man who somehow made "my daddy" go away.
As I said before, I had this all out with my dad long ago. We sat in the boat one day and I told him all of this. He was upset and angry - but not at me. He later came back to me and apologized. We talked about why he had changed, how unhappy he had been, and began the process of reconciling. Now, I often call my dad "Daddy" (which freaks many people out). We like to escape to the lake early in the morning and go fishing together - just to be with each other and do something together. In the spring, he takes me out in the woods with him turkey hunting. We sit and watch the sunrise together, and we're just happy to be in the woods together once more. He goes geocaching with me, and we still cook fish together in back of the camper like we did when I was four. My daddy cherishes the time spent with me again, and we have a different "game" we play now when we talk on the phone, but it's the equivalent of those "My Heart Belongs to Daddy" pjs all over again.
But with God...? So, this week I spent some time working on thinking of God as I recalled how I felt with my daddy. God as "Father" still brings up those less than helpful images, but God as "Daddy" is good. God as "Daddy" is more inline with my images of Jesus. God as "Daddy" is my protector who cherishes me, delights in me, wants to spend time with me, wants to teach me things. It's not all warm fuzzies as there is still correction and some uncomfortable guidance involved. There's still that element of uncertainty, but thinking of God in terms of "Daddy" is a lot like flying through the air as a small child and knowing that after the adventure, I will land safely in my loving daddy's arms.
When I was little, I knew my dad cherished me. He delighted in me. I would run to greet him when he came home from work, and he would toss me high in the air and catch me. I loved the thrill of flying through the air, but it was only because I knew I would land safely in my daddy's arms again. There was such joy for both of us in those kinds of moments.
My dad was proud of me too. I think he was more excited than I was when we discovered that I could read. He bragged to all his friends about how smart and precocious I was as a little girl. He kept a picture of me and my first fish (4 nice perch) in his wallet to show all his coworkers. He'd slip me a pack of baseball cards and tell me how proud he was of the way I helped mom around the house.
My daddy wanted to spend time with me. He would play games with me. He would take me fishing - just the two of us out in the middle of Pymatuning. He would curl up in the bean bag with me and read me stories. He was patient when teaching me things. I learned how to bottle feed a calf, and then how to get that calf to drink from a bucket. I learned how to cast a fishing line. I learned how to hit a baseball and throw properly. I learned how to batter and fry fish. I learned how to drive a tractor. Dad wanted to show me places that were special to him, so we hiked through the "Big Woods" (Allegheny National Forest) with my daddy carrying me on his shoulders when I got tired. When we took a family vacation through New England, Dad took me to the top of a cliff overlooking the ocean in Maine, and we sat and watched the sunrise together.
These are some of my best memories of childhood and of being with my daddy.
Somewhere around age 9 or 10, things started to change. My dad quit spending all that special time with me. When we did play ball in the backyard, it was because he wanted me to improve my hitting or my fielding. It became drills and demanding perfection rather than special time with daddy. We quit taking those hikes through the Big Woods. He never curled up in the bean bag with me to read or played Legos any more. We rarely went fishing alone, and if we did, he was always correcting me. I managed to catch a snag one day, and instead of patiently helping me or simply cutting the line, he ripped my favorite fishing pole out of my hands. The next thing I knew, my favorite pole and best reel were at the bottom of Lake Wilhem. I think that was the day that I knew something had changed.
Mom started referring to dad only as "your father." Interaction with him was limited as he was silent, withdrawn or angry most of the time. I kept trying to get my daddy back, or at least my daddy's attention back, but I was never quite successful. What I didn't know at the time was that his work was eating his soul (something I understand quite well now) and that he and my mom weren't getting along. "Your father" was this angry, unapproachable, demanding man who somehow made "my daddy" go away.
As I said before, I had this all out with my dad long ago. We sat in the boat one day and I told him all of this. He was upset and angry - but not at me. He later came back to me and apologized. We talked about why he had changed, how unhappy he had been, and began the process of reconciling. Now, I often call my dad "Daddy" (which freaks many people out). We like to escape to the lake early in the morning and go fishing together - just to be with each other and do something together. In the spring, he takes me out in the woods with him turkey hunting. We sit and watch the sunrise together, and we're just happy to be in the woods together once more. He goes geocaching with me, and we still cook fish together in back of the camper like we did when I was four. My daddy cherishes the time spent with me again, and we have a different "game" we play now when we talk on the phone, but it's the equivalent of those "My Heart Belongs to Daddy" pjs all over again.
But with God...? So, this week I spent some time working on thinking of God as I recalled how I felt with my daddy. God as "Father" still brings up those less than helpful images, but God as "Daddy" is good. God as "Daddy" is more inline with my images of Jesus. God as "Daddy" is my protector who cherishes me, delights in me, wants to spend time with me, wants to teach me things. It's not all warm fuzzies as there is still correction and some uncomfortable guidance involved. There's still that element of uncertainty, but thinking of God in terms of "Daddy" is a lot like flying through the air as a small child and knowing that after the adventure, I will land safely in my loving daddy's arms.
Ups and Downs
I was able to actually sit down and talk with Shawn for a bit today. One of the things he asked me was how I was doing - up? down? the same?
I think that I'm "up" from the point I was two weeks ago when I sent out that first post. Though nothing has changed - and in that sense is "the same" - just knowing that you all are willing to walk with me has been encouraging. Some of your comments and suggestions have been helpful, but it's really more about knowing that I'm not having to do this part of the journey alone.
There have been "downs" as well. There was a point at work this week when I felt like my soul was literally being crushed as I sat there. It's a feeling I've had often, but this was almost a physical sensation. There are more and more days when I feel like I just can't do it one more minute, but I have no choice. Sometimes I wonder if it would just be easier to give up/give in and start to accept that this is going to be life for me. I think I'd be happier here if I could do that, but somehow I just can't.
Today was a REALLY GOOD day though. Again, nothing has changed. But today I got to spend 2 hours with Shawn. It was good to just talk. He shared some insights that will appear in the blog at a later date - once I've had time to explore them a bit more. We talked about ministry, what church should be, and how we did church/community better when we were in junior high and high school. Thinking back on our teen days, Shawn said that for all the drama, we (meaning our group of friends) really did love and care for each other. Something happened as we gathered around those cafeteria tables for lunch or to hang out before band practice, and it's one of the reasons that neither of us can settle for "playing church." It was good to be reminded of that, and, in the process, why I love working with teenagers.
Earlier in the week, I had made plans to hang out with Mary, a friend from the Meadville YM days. We ended up hanging out at her house and then heading to her church. While we were there, we ran into another friend from those days. We sat and reminisced about mission trips in "the old days" - particularly a trip to Nicaragua. We told stories and, again, it was good. Mary was one of the people there for me when I was debating going into full time ministry. She, Randy and I sat up late almost every night in Nicaragua talking about what plans God might have for the three of us. It was good to be reminded of those days and the bonds we shared as well.
Beyond that fun though, I had the chance to share with Mary a little about T.A.G. Ministries. As I talked about it, I could feel that same soul brightening feeling that I felt when I was talking to Shawn about some of my youth ministry experiences. If nothing else, it confirmed in me that I shouldn't settle for the soul crushing work of metrology. I've been sending out resumes to some churches that I have the sense would be suffocating situations- one of which I even have a phone interview with next Friday - but today also confirmed that I shouldn't settle for one of those jobs either.
Not much has changed. Tears are still near the surface and spill out at inconvenient and frequent intervals. I'm still desperate to hear - or at least sense the presence of - Jesus. I still have no clue where this phase of the journey is headed. But there is a stirring. I can listen to music again without wanting to throw my iPod under a MAC truck, and there are a few encouraging signs along the way that I haven't totally misunderstood my call, that I haven't been disappointing God, that I haven't been "wasting" my life working with teens and exploring creative and alternate forms of worship.
I think that I'm "up" from the point I was two weeks ago when I sent out that first post. Though nothing has changed - and in that sense is "the same" - just knowing that you all are willing to walk with me has been encouraging. Some of your comments and suggestions have been helpful, but it's really more about knowing that I'm not having to do this part of the journey alone.
There have been "downs" as well. There was a point at work this week when I felt like my soul was literally being crushed as I sat there. It's a feeling I've had often, but this was almost a physical sensation. There are more and more days when I feel like I just can't do it one more minute, but I have no choice. Sometimes I wonder if it would just be easier to give up/give in and start to accept that this is going to be life for me. I think I'd be happier here if I could do that, but somehow I just can't.
Today was a REALLY GOOD day though. Again, nothing has changed. But today I got to spend 2 hours with Shawn. It was good to just talk. He shared some insights that will appear in the blog at a later date - once I've had time to explore them a bit more. We talked about ministry, what church should be, and how we did church/community better when we were in junior high and high school. Thinking back on our teen days, Shawn said that for all the drama, we (meaning our group of friends) really did love and care for each other. Something happened as we gathered around those cafeteria tables for lunch or to hang out before band practice, and it's one of the reasons that neither of us can settle for "playing church." It was good to be reminded of that, and, in the process, why I love working with teenagers.
Earlier in the week, I had made plans to hang out with Mary, a friend from the Meadville YM days. We ended up hanging out at her house and then heading to her church. While we were there, we ran into another friend from those days. We sat and reminisced about mission trips in "the old days" - particularly a trip to Nicaragua. We told stories and, again, it was good. Mary was one of the people there for me when I was debating going into full time ministry. She, Randy and I sat up late almost every night in Nicaragua talking about what plans God might have for the three of us. It was good to be reminded of those days and the bonds we shared as well.
Beyond that fun though, I had the chance to share with Mary a little about T.A.G. Ministries. As I talked about it, I could feel that same soul brightening feeling that I felt when I was talking to Shawn about some of my youth ministry experiences. If nothing else, it confirmed in me that I shouldn't settle for the soul crushing work of metrology. I've been sending out resumes to some churches that I have the sense would be suffocating situations- one of which I even have a phone interview with next Friday - but today also confirmed that I shouldn't settle for one of those jobs either.
Not much has changed. Tears are still near the surface and spill out at inconvenient and frequent intervals. I'm still desperate to hear - or at least sense the presence of - Jesus. I still have no clue where this phase of the journey is headed. But there is a stirring. I can listen to music again without wanting to throw my iPod under a MAC truck, and there are a few encouraging signs along the way that I haven't totally misunderstood my call, that I haven't been disappointing God, that I haven't been "wasting" my life working with teens and exploring creative and alternate forms of worship.
Friday, January 29, 2010
Disappointment or Distortion?
A little over a week ago, I had this encounter. I ran into a friend who had journeyed with me through a season of waiting (not a faith crisis like this one, but simply waiting). As we caught up, it became obvious that I am less than happy with my life at the moment. (I think people figure it out pretty quickly when I refer to work as "prison.") Being the concerned, dedicated, Christian woman that she is, she asked me, "Are you disappointed with God?"
I can honestly say that I'm not disappointed with God. (I'll explain why later in the post).
Her parting words to me were one of the reasons that I decided I needed to reach out to you all: "I'm glad to hear that, but I think you need to take some time to look at your life because I think God is disappointed with you."
I went home with my head and heart spinning. What did I do to disappoint God? Was I wrong to leave teaching to go into ministry? Or should I have stayed in LaPorte? Or perhaps I should have worked harder at fitting in and playing the game in Olean? Was T.A.G. a huge mistake that God was just sadly shaking his head over? Or going to YS this year? Did I completely misread what was happening during that Imaginative Prayer session and simply just add to the number of opportunities I had completely blown? Or maybe my version of art/creativity? Or maybe my ways of praying weren't appropriate for the Almighty (and all those pastors at General Assembly were right)?
After hearing her words replay in my head a million times, I finally wrote this in my journal (which is where I often write my prayers): "I don't know where I went so wrong, but I've disappointed you just like I've disappointed everyone else who matters in my life. I'm so sorry. And it's no wonder that I try to avoid so many people these days. What am I suppose to say when they ask 'What are you up to?' Oh nothing much, just disappointing the Creator of the Universe?" In the process of writing these words, the pain and tears were out of control.
(Shawn: it was the following morning that you asked me how I was doing. Now you know why I didn't respond. There just wasn't enough time to have the emotional breakdown before we had to be back up front...)
Ok, so shortly after that, I was reading Susan Isaac's book where she takes God to couples counseling. Her main issue was her own misconceptions and distortions of her image of God. So I started thinking about that... and I realized that I didn't think Jesus was disappointed in me - just God. So what was the difference?
Well, Jesus is more personal to me. Jesus is my beloved and I am his. Jesus is the one who talks with me and hangs out with me when I want to spend a day going to a Cubs game, geocaching or baking "in the presence." Jesus wants to be with me, and Jesus' love is completely unconditional. But to me, God is a bit different. God is the "big picture", Creator of the Universe, out of reach and never quite pleased with me. God wants something from me/my life. This is why I wasn't disappointed with God - I didn't really expect anything from him, so there was nothing to be disappointed about. ... Now if Jesus had done all this to me...
So how did this bit of schizophrenia happen?
Thoughts? Comments? Sarcasm? Humor?
I can honestly say that I'm not disappointed with God. (I'll explain why later in the post).
Her parting words to me were one of the reasons that I decided I needed to reach out to you all: "I'm glad to hear that, but I think you need to take some time to look at your life because I think God is disappointed with you."
I went home with my head and heart spinning. What did I do to disappoint God? Was I wrong to leave teaching to go into ministry? Or should I have stayed in LaPorte? Or perhaps I should have worked harder at fitting in and playing the game in Olean? Was T.A.G. a huge mistake that God was just sadly shaking his head over? Or going to YS this year? Did I completely misread what was happening during that Imaginative Prayer session and simply just add to the number of opportunities I had completely blown? Or maybe my version of art/creativity? Or maybe my ways of praying weren't appropriate for the Almighty (and all those pastors at General Assembly were right)?
After hearing her words replay in my head a million times, I finally wrote this in my journal (which is where I often write my prayers): "I don't know where I went so wrong, but I've disappointed you just like I've disappointed everyone else who matters in my life. I'm so sorry. And it's no wonder that I try to avoid so many people these days. What am I suppose to say when they ask 'What are you up to?' Oh nothing much, just disappointing the Creator of the Universe?" In the process of writing these words, the pain and tears were out of control.
(Shawn: it was the following morning that you asked me how I was doing. Now you know why I didn't respond. There just wasn't enough time to have the emotional breakdown before we had to be back up front...)
Ok, so shortly after that, I was reading Susan Isaac's book where she takes God to couples counseling. Her main issue was her own misconceptions and distortions of her image of God. So I started thinking about that... and I realized that I didn't think Jesus was disappointed in me - just God. So what was the difference?
Well, Jesus is more personal to me. Jesus is my beloved and I am his. Jesus is the one who talks with me and hangs out with me when I want to spend a day going to a Cubs game, geocaching or baking "in the presence." Jesus wants to be with me, and Jesus' love is completely unconditional. But to me, God is a bit different. God is the "big picture", Creator of the Universe, out of reach and never quite pleased with me. God wants something from me/my life. This is why I wasn't disappointed with God - I didn't really expect anything from him, so there was nothing to be disappointed about. ... Now if Jesus had done all this to me...
So how did this bit of schizophrenia happen?
- My childhoold church, with all its rules, always spoke of "God" and "Father." It was more formal and imposing. It was also scary when you were in trouble, yet again, for asking questions in Sunday School. But the cool pastor who rescued me when I was kicked out of Sunday School always spoke of "Jesus" and this friendship/relationship/love.
- "Father" brings up a whole other set of issues - ones that I worked out with my dad long ago, but ones that apparently are still influencing my image of God. Dad was hard to please, always demanded our best, and stayed somewhat distant from us as we got older. It wasn't that his love was conditional, but there were definite expectations in place that earned his wrath if we strayed. I guess I kind of see God this way - somewhat distant, demanding, hard to please and with a bit of anger tossed in.
- When the DuBois firestorm came, a good friend and fellow youth pastor gave me a book that talks about being crucified by the church. The main point of the book comes around to say that God is orchestrating the crucifixion, that he chose for things to happen in such a way as to completely crush you and nearly destroy you. Apparently some of that stuck with me because I've been keeping God at arm's length since then (and just hanging out with Jesus).
Thoughts? Comments? Sarcasm? Humor?
Tuesday, January 26, 2010
Church
Unless otherwise specified, "church" refers to the church at large and not one specific congregation.
After talking with Lilly on the phone, an email from Stephen and a message from Jess, I realized that a lot of what I'm dealing with at this point is centered around church. I've not exactly had the best church experiences along the way. Although some have been great, I'd love to be able to walk away from church.
I'm tired of the politics. I'm tired of all the fighting, backstabbing and gossip. I'm tired of trying to be the church when most of the people I'm there with just want to come and "sit and soak". I'm tired of church being more like entertainment than following Jesus.
I'm tired of the church telling me what to believe, when to believe, how to believe. I'm tired of the church telling me what to do, when to do it and how to do it. I'm tired of everyone wanting to know what denomination or "movement" I am associated with - as if knowing that would tell them everything they need to know about my relationship with Jesus.
I'm tired of the church acting as if it had all the answers. If it really had all the answers, wouldn't we have solved the world's problems by now? If the church has all the answers, why does poverty still exist? Why does it take a natural disaster for the church to realize that the people of Haiti - or the people next door - need some help just to survive?
I'm tired of the church hurting my friends and family. My dad, Glenn, several people that I worked with in DuBois, Brian (a former student) and many others in my life have walked away from church because they have been wounded so deeply. Some have even given up on God because of what the church has done to them. I'm one of the fortunate ones who had people to help me see that the church is made up of imperfect people who screw up on a regular basis, and I was able to recover/am recovering from those hurtful experiences. But what about all these people who haven't been able to get past the hurt?
Which brings me to ... I'm tired of the church pretending. I'm tired of hearing "I'll pray for you" and knowing full well that they will never actually do it. (I should qualify this...I know some people actually mean it, but most don't). I'm tired of the smiles and the "everything's fine" attitude that is expected in churches. What if it was OK to actually say, "I'm doing lousy today. Can you take the time to hear why?" instead of our typical responses during the greeting time. I'm going to let you all in on a little secret: When I say I'm "OK" or "Alright" I don't mean it! If I can't make eye contact with you, I'm probably not being honest with you, and it's hard for me to open up in the few seconds we're given during a typical greeting. Few people in my life have gotten to know me well enough to decode my responses. I'm tired of having to pretend that everything in my life is fantastic just because I know Jesus. I'm tired of having to pretend that Jesus makes you prosperous or nice or whatever it is that makes life good all the time.
And yet...
I can't walk away. I keep trying to, and somehow I keep getting sucked back in. I can't help but believe that the church can change, can be redeemed, can actually become what it was meant to be.
I once heard Mike Yaconelli say that he couldn't walk away from the church either. He actually said he loved the church, and I thought he was crazy. Of course, I was in the middle of a very unhealthy, abusive church situation at the time, but I still think Mike was a bit crazy. I can't say that I truly love the church, but I also can't let it go.
There are some things I do love about the church - or at least the ones in which I've been involved. I love the mentoring attitude that the people at the little church in Guys Mills (where I grew up) had - long before mentoring was a buzz word or a formal program. I love the questioning and searching atmosphere that the church I attended in college allowed. I love the freedom to explore different ways to connect with God that the LaPorte church allowed me to foster and share. I love the grace and mercy that is often shown by the church in Meadville. I love the sense of belonging and love that the youth in LP exhibited for one another. I love the creativity and beauty that my YS "church" shares. I love the community that can come from a group of people coming together, telling the truth and sharing the journey.
On several occasions, Glenn (remember - one of the highlights from DuBois) has asked me why I keep working for churches. He knows my frustrations. He knows why I'm tired of church. He's been so badly scarred by the church - TWICE - that he's never going to go back. So he can't understand, after watching me go through everything, why I don't walk away. My only response has been that I believe the church can still be redeemed. If Jesus can redeem our culture for his good, why not our church? The church won't ever change unless someone is there to point out that change is needed. The church will never focus more on loving people, being a community, telling the truth, seeking God, not pretending, sharing the journey, bringing justice, being the hands and feet of Jesus, ... unless someone keeps pointing out that there is something wrong with the "sit and soak" model of Christianity/Churchianity. For some reason, it seems that God wants me to be one those people.
I can't walk away, and yet I can't seem to break through the "HE must...", the doctrinal indoctrination and the pure ridiculousness of the job postings I sift through on a regular basis. I see the same descriptions over and over again on the job bank, and everytime I see a new posting, I feel like I'm suffocating. How do you tell someone in an interview that they will never be able to build their church and be the church if they only have the "up front, get all the answers" model, never allow their children or teens to be a part of worship (or any other part of the church for that matter), never encourage their people to think and feel and discover on their own, limit the creativity and beauty, never take time to actually listen for what God might have to say to them, and never actually consider going outside the building to BE the church in their communities and in the world! And yet every single church I've ever interviewed with asks, "So what do you think of our church and our programs?"
So what am I to do with all this?
After talking with Lilly on the phone, an email from Stephen and a message from Jess, I realized that a lot of what I'm dealing with at this point is centered around church. I've not exactly had the best church experiences along the way. Although some have been great, I'd love to be able to walk away from church.
I'm tired of the politics. I'm tired of all the fighting, backstabbing and gossip. I'm tired of trying to be the church when most of the people I'm there with just want to come and "sit and soak". I'm tired of church being more like entertainment than following Jesus.
I'm tired of the church telling me what to believe, when to believe, how to believe. I'm tired of the church telling me what to do, when to do it and how to do it. I'm tired of everyone wanting to know what denomination or "movement" I am associated with - as if knowing that would tell them everything they need to know about my relationship with Jesus.
I'm tired of the church acting as if it had all the answers. If it really had all the answers, wouldn't we have solved the world's problems by now? If the church has all the answers, why does poverty still exist? Why does it take a natural disaster for the church to realize that the people of Haiti - or the people next door - need some help just to survive?
I'm tired of the church hurting my friends and family. My dad, Glenn, several people that I worked with in DuBois, Brian (a former student) and many others in my life have walked away from church because they have been wounded so deeply. Some have even given up on God because of what the church has done to them. I'm one of the fortunate ones who had people to help me see that the church is made up of imperfect people who screw up on a regular basis, and I was able to recover/am recovering from those hurtful experiences. But what about all these people who haven't been able to get past the hurt?
Which brings me to ... I'm tired of the church pretending. I'm tired of hearing "I'll pray for you" and knowing full well that they will never actually do it. (I should qualify this...I know some people actually mean it, but most don't). I'm tired of the smiles and the "everything's fine" attitude that is expected in churches. What if it was OK to actually say, "I'm doing lousy today. Can you take the time to hear why?" instead of our typical responses during the greeting time. I'm going to let you all in on a little secret: When I say I'm "OK" or "Alright" I don't mean it! If I can't make eye contact with you, I'm probably not being honest with you, and it's hard for me to open up in the few seconds we're given during a typical greeting. Few people in my life have gotten to know me well enough to decode my responses. I'm tired of having to pretend that everything in my life is fantastic just because I know Jesus. I'm tired of having to pretend that Jesus makes you prosperous or nice or whatever it is that makes life good all the time.
And yet...
I can't walk away. I keep trying to, and somehow I keep getting sucked back in. I can't help but believe that the church can change, can be redeemed, can actually become what it was meant to be.
I once heard Mike Yaconelli say that he couldn't walk away from the church either. He actually said he loved the church, and I thought he was crazy. Of course, I was in the middle of a very unhealthy, abusive church situation at the time, but I still think Mike was a bit crazy. I can't say that I truly love the church, but I also can't let it go.
There are some things I do love about the church - or at least the ones in which I've been involved. I love the mentoring attitude that the people at the little church in Guys Mills (where I grew up) had - long before mentoring was a buzz word or a formal program. I love the questioning and searching atmosphere that the church I attended in college allowed. I love the freedom to explore different ways to connect with God that the LaPorte church allowed me to foster and share. I love the grace and mercy that is often shown by the church in Meadville. I love the sense of belonging and love that the youth in LP exhibited for one another. I love the creativity and beauty that my YS "church" shares. I love the community that can come from a group of people coming together, telling the truth and sharing the journey.
On several occasions, Glenn (remember - one of the highlights from DuBois) has asked me why I keep working for churches. He knows my frustrations. He knows why I'm tired of church. He's been so badly scarred by the church - TWICE - that he's never going to go back. So he can't understand, after watching me go through everything, why I don't walk away. My only response has been that I believe the church can still be redeemed. If Jesus can redeem our culture for his good, why not our church? The church won't ever change unless someone is there to point out that change is needed. The church will never focus more on loving people, being a community, telling the truth, seeking God, not pretending, sharing the journey, bringing justice, being the hands and feet of Jesus, ... unless someone keeps pointing out that there is something wrong with the "sit and soak" model of Christianity/Churchianity. For some reason, it seems that God wants me to be one those people.
I can't walk away, and yet I can't seem to break through the "HE must...", the doctrinal indoctrination and the pure ridiculousness of the job postings I sift through on a regular basis. I see the same descriptions over and over again on the job bank, and everytime I see a new posting, I feel like I'm suffocating. How do you tell someone in an interview that they will never be able to build their church and be the church if they only have the "up front, get all the answers" model, never allow their children or teens to be a part of worship (or any other part of the church for that matter), never encourage their people to think and feel and discover on their own, limit the creativity and beauty, never take time to actually listen for what God might have to say to them, and never actually consider going outside the building to BE the church in their communities and in the world! And yet every single church I've ever interviewed with asks, "So what do you think of our church and our programs?"
So what am I to do with all this?
Sunday, January 24, 2010
The Voices
I left Olean in April, and for awhile, the voices were encouraging. The folks in my parents' condo association rallied around and funneled job opportunities and lots of "everything will be OK" comments my way. Shawn (for those who don't know - he was one of my best friends in high school and is now the worship pastor at the church) asked me to play/sing with the praise team at church, and I found some cool people to pray and play with there. Wednesday night rehearsals became "church" for me. In the meantime, some of the people that I had connected with in Olean, as well as some friends from LaPorte, kept in touch and encouraged me regularly. In May, my folks moved out to camp at Pymatuning Lake (sort of, Mom stayed home more this summer than she was at the lake), and I was able to spend some time in silence and solutide, seeking out what God had next for me. The anger at the Olean church began to fade, healing began to take place, and I began to look ahead.
As the fall rolled around and my folks moved back home, things got a bit more difficult. Once again, I could do nothing right. Opportunities in the area to get into ministry were nonexistant, and I struggled with the possibility of moving away again. I finally had that conversation with my parents, and it didn't go well. Mom's response was Look at your dad. He worked at Channellock all those years and hated it, but he went every day because that's what he needed to do. You'll be OK. Just quit believing that you'll only be happy if you're working in ministry and learn to be OK with working for Todd. I wanted to respond that she also complained all the time because Dad was so unhappy and angry and often completely shut down, but I wisely held my tongue. Dad just said she was right and walked out of the house. I don't think he wanted to argue with her (as he was once said to me that I had to do what made me happy instead of being like him), but he also didn't want to give me permission to leave the area. Of course, in an effort to make me believe her point of view, Mom's negative voice became more persistent, and she began to ask everyone else in the neighborhood to try to convince me that she was right as well. The old feelings of being worthless and not being able to do anything right came creeping back.
This fall, my sanity came in the form of Youth Specialties (YS). In September, I flew to LA, relieved to be away from metrology for almost a week. I think I'd been in LA for an hour when Lilly told me that I had to do something, that I couldn't stay where I was forever, that I was wasting my God-given talents, abilities and passions. Then I went to work on the prayer chapel with Archie, and I felt alive again for the first time in almost a year. LA was hard work and long days and way too hot, but I was alive again. I didn't even mind doing all the schlepping and running errands and spending 5 hours searching for Lilly's boxes :) Larry, Lilly, Jeannie, Archie and Libby all challenged me at some point during that convention: You are not a metrologist. God has bigger plans for you. Spend the next month waiting and listening and see what God has in store for you.
So I returned home for another month of metrology, waiting and listening. I had hope that an end might be in sight. I listened and watched and waited. The first week I was home, Shawn sent me the playlist for that Sunday. We would be singing "Voice of Truth" and it rang true with my soul. I was encouraged. It seemed like that entire month, God kept encouraging me and speaking to me: the songs at church, times of silence, a comment from one of the guys I played with, the prayers of the praise team when we gathered, Shawn seeing through my "it's OK facade" and taking the time to really listen and be present with me, the stuff I was reading, texts and messages from friends... everything. In October, I was sitting in the roller rink at Titusville (which is where we have church there) when I clearly heard "I know your name. I see each tear that falls, and I hear your cries. I haven't forgotten about you." It was during a moment of silence before Cliff started to pray, and I hadn't been the least bit focused on what was going on in my life at the moment, so it kind of startled me. Still it was reassuring to know I wasn't forgotten. The next time I played, this song showed up on the song list with almost the identical words (a song I hadn't know prior to this) and was a great encouragement as well. And then I got to fly off to Cincy to do YS again!
What I didn't know that Sunday morning in the roller rink was that God was going to be completely and strangely silent after that. I did the YS Cincy thing. There were some amazing things that happened during that convention - conversations with Eli and with a lady in the elevator, but personally, I wasn't "hearing" anything. Still, it was good to be with Lilly, Archie, Mike and Libby again. Plus, I got to know Michael, Mark and Kelly at this convention. AND, in the midst of the YS struggles at the time, there was something encouraging and hopeful building. I hoped that something was coming in my life as well.
Atlanta was bittersweet. I loved hanging out with Lilly, Archie, Mike and "the boys" (as Lilly and I began to refer to the Novelli's and Kelly). It was good for me to be around people who believed in me and encouraged me. In getting to know Lilly better in LA, some of my creative and experiential talents were discovered, so I was able to teach in Cincy and Atlanta as well as create. The Imaginative Prayer session in Atlanta was absolutely amazing! I could actually stand in the front of the room and see God working in the people's lives as I watched. In that sense, I knew that Jesus was still present with me, but the silence continued. Still, being with Lilly, Archie, Mike, Michael, Kelly, Mark, Jim Hancock and some of the convention attendees gave me hope as I headed home. I even got to talk to Stephen for almost an hour as I waited at the airport (via phone), and I felt much better as I faced life back in PA.
Filled with possibilities and knowing that I needed to do something to keep creating, I approached some people at church about creating experiences for them... for free. I was turned down (officially, I was put off until "later", but it sure felt like being turned down). I finally had that conversation about doing what I needed to do for me with my folks. They said they understood, but the nagging and negativity got ractched up a notch. As we approached Christmas, which is usually my favorite time of the year, I started getting rejection notices from some of the places I had applied and the rest were noncommunicative (is that even a word?) I was told I needed to switch to second shift at work, which meant that I could no longer go to Wednesday night rehearsals at church. I was looking forward to seeing "the boys" and some of my LP friends, and maybe even touching base with Andrew Marin, during a trip to Chicago, but the plans for that trip fell through. Christmas greetings from some of the people I considered friends in Olean arrived containing phrases like "I'm glad that you found a job that suits you better" and "God will bless you now that you've found your true call." Throughout the Christmas season I listened intently and tried to sense the wonder and joy of the season, but now it seemed that even Jesus' presence was hiding from me.
The first of the year brought tons of snow - something that usually brings me much joy and just screams the presence of Jesus to me. But for me - no joy, no wonder, no sense of Jesus. My folks left for Florida, leaving me space and quiet for contemplative practices - still no sense of Jesus. I hadn't journalled for awhile, so I pulled that out - no Jesus. I began reading during my "lunch" break at work each night - no Jesus. The music from church - no Jesus. Even listening to Stephen's prayer chants - no Jesus. Someone from my ministry team in DuBois started facebooking me, and the conversation quickly turned to "just drink the Kool-aid." I can't do it, and somehow I don't think I'll find Jesus there anyway. The church has graciously allowed me to continue playing (well, Shawn has) but I miss the community from the rehearsals. And recently I was pushed by someone in that church to take their classes (kind of like membership classes only more along the old Saddleback 4 bases model) because "you've obviously landed here and will be staying with us." The conversation continued with the idea that this life is what God has for me, and so I should just accept it and jump through all the church's hoops.
I spent all last week trying to sift through all the voices. My folks called and discouraged me twice, I got emails trying to guilt me into a few things that I knew I couldn't - or shouldn't - get involved in. The one friend that I thought would follow through on a previous conversation (that might actually be positive for me) didn't call and didn't return my call. Even some of the voices at work played into the "you're going to be here forever" vibe. But in the midst of all that, I was listening to my iPod to kill time while I was on a machine at work and Stephen's Take Me to My Lord caught my attention. The idea to ask all of you to do that for me began to grow, and that's how we got here. I can't walk away from my faith or Jesus, but I can't seem to find either of them right now. So I've asked all of you to help.
This would be a good time to give some insight, humor, sarcasm, truth, whatever... being silent at this point may just push me over the edge...
P.S. For those who don't know me well enough... be assured that, although I FEEL abandoned by Jesus at this point, I KNOW that isn't true. Just didn't want you to panic and think you had to convince me that I had become an atheist. :)
As the fall rolled around and my folks moved back home, things got a bit more difficult. Once again, I could do nothing right. Opportunities in the area to get into ministry were nonexistant, and I struggled with the possibility of moving away again. I finally had that conversation with my parents, and it didn't go well. Mom's response was Look at your dad. He worked at Channellock all those years and hated it, but he went every day because that's what he needed to do. You'll be OK. Just quit believing that you'll only be happy if you're working in ministry and learn to be OK with working for Todd. I wanted to respond that she also complained all the time because Dad was so unhappy and angry and often completely shut down, but I wisely held my tongue. Dad just said she was right and walked out of the house. I don't think he wanted to argue with her (as he was once said to me that I had to do what made me happy instead of being like him), but he also didn't want to give me permission to leave the area. Of course, in an effort to make me believe her point of view, Mom's negative voice became more persistent, and she began to ask everyone else in the neighborhood to try to convince me that she was right as well. The old feelings of being worthless and not being able to do anything right came creeping back.
This fall, my sanity came in the form of Youth Specialties (YS). In September, I flew to LA, relieved to be away from metrology for almost a week. I think I'd been in LA for an hour when Lilly told me that I had to do something, that I couldn't stay where I was forever, that I was wasting my God-given talents, abilities and passions. Then I went to work on the prayer chapel with Archie, and I felt alive again for the first time in almost a year. LA was hard work and long days and way too hot, but I was alive again. I didn't even mind doing all the schlepping and running errands and spending 5 hours searching for Lilly's boxes :) Larry, Lilly, Jeannie, Archie and Libby all challenged me at some point during that convention: You are not a metrologist. God has bigger plans for you. Spend the next month waiting and listening and see what God has in store for you.
So I returned home for another month of metrology, waiting and listening. I had hope that an end might be in sight. I listened and watched and waited. The first week I was home, Shawn sent me the playlist for that Sunday. We would be singing "Voice of Truth" and it rang true with my soul. I was encouraged. It seemed like that entire month, God kept encouraging me and speaking to me: the songs at church, times of silence, a comment from one of the guys I played with, the prayers of the praise team when we gathered, Shawn seeing through my "it's OK facade" and taking the time to really listen and be present with me, the stuff I was reading, texts and messages from friends... everything. In October, I was sitting in the roller rink at Titusville (which is where we have church there) when I clearly heard "I know your name. I see each tear that falls, and I hear your cries. I haven't forgotten about you." It was during a moment of silence before Cliff started to pray, and I hadn't been the least bit focused on what was going on in my life at the moment, so it kind of startled me. Still it was reassuring to know I wasn't forgotten. The next time I played, this song showed up on the song list with almost the identical words (a song I hadn't know prior to this) and was a great encouragement as well. And then I got to fly off to Cincy to do YS again!
What I didn't know that Sunday morning in the roller rink was that God was going to be completely and strangely silent after that. I did the YS Cincy thing. There were some amazing things that happened during that convention - conversations with Eli and with a lady in the elevator, but personally, I wasn't "hearing" anything. Still, it was good to be with Lilly, Archie, Mike and Libby again. Plus, I got to know Michael, Mark and Kelly at this convention. AND, in the midst of the YS struggles at the time, there was something encouraging and hopeful building. I hoped that something was coming in my life as well.
Atlanta was bittersweet. I loved hanging out with Lilly, Archie, Mike and "the boys" (as Lilly and I began to refer to the Novelli's and Kelly). It was good for me to be around people who believed in me and encouraged me. In getting to know Lilly better in LA, some of my creative and experiential talents were discovered, so I was able to teach in Cincy and Atlanta as well as create. The Imaginative Prayer session in Atlanta was absolutely amazing! I could actually stand in the front of the room and see God working in the people's lives as I watched. In that sense, I knew that Jesus was still present with me, but the silence continued. Still, being with Lilly, Archie, Mike, Michael, Kelly, Mark, Jim Hancock and some of the convention attendees gave me hope as I headed home. I even got to talk to Stephen for almost an hour as I waited at the airport (via phone), and I felt much better as I faced life back in PA.
Filled with possibilities and knowing that I needed to do something to keep creating, I approached some people at church about creating experiences for them... for free. I was turned down (officially, I was put off until "later", but it sure felt like being turned down). I finally had that conversation about doing what I needed to do for me with my folks. They said they understood, but the nagging and negativity got ractched up a notch. As we approached Christmas, which is usually my favorite time of the year, I started getting rejection notices from some of the places I had applied and the rest were noncommunicative (is that even a word?) I was told I needed to switch to second shift at work, which meant that I could no longer go to Wednesday night rehearsals at church. I was looking forward to seeing "the boys" and some of my LP friends, and maybe even touching base with Andrew Marin, during a trip to Chicago, but the plans for that trip fell through. Christmas greetings from some of the people I considered friends in Olean arrived containing phrases like "I'm glad that you found a job that suits you better" and "God will bless you now that you've found your true call." Throughout the Christmas season I listened intently and tried to sense the wonder and joy of the season, but now it seemed that even Jesus' presence was hiding from me.
The first of the year brought tons of snow - something that usually brings me much joy and just screams the presence of Jesus to me. But for me - no joy, no wonder, no sense of Jesus. My folks left for Florida, leaving me space and quiet for contemplative practices - still no sense of Jesus. I hadn't journalled for awhile, so I pulled that out - no Jesus. I began reading during my "lunch" break at work each night - no Jesus. The music from church - no Jesus. Even listening to Stephen's prayer chants - no Jesus. Someone from my ministry team in DuBois started facebooking me, and the conversation quickly turned to "just drink the Kool-aid." I can't do it, and somehow I don't think I'll find Jesus there anyway. The church has graciously allowed me to continue playing (well, Shawn has) but I miss the community from the rehearsals. And recently I was pushed by someone in that church to take their classes (kind of like membership classes only more along the old Saddleback 4 bases model) because "you've obviously landed here and will be staying with us." The conversation continued with the idea that this life is what God has for me, and so I should just accept it and jump through all the church's hoops.
I spent all last week trying to sift through all the voices. My folks called and discouraged me twice, I got emails trying to guilt me into a few things that I knew I couldn't - or shouldn't - get involved in. The one friend that I thought would follow through on a previous conversation (that might actually be positive for me) didn't call and didn't return my call. Even some of the voices at work played into the "you're going to be here forever" vibe. But in the midst of all that, I was listening to my iPod to kill time while I was on a machine at work and Stephen's Take Me to My Lord caught my attention. The idea to ask all of you to do that for me began to grow, and that's how we got here. I can't walk away from my faith or Jesus, but I can't seem to find either of them right now. So I've asked all of you to help.
This would be a good time to give some insight, humor, sarcasm, truth, whatever... being silent at this point may just push me over the edge...
P.S. For those who don't know me well enough... be assured that, although I FEEL abandoned by Jesus at this point, I KNOW that isn't true. Just didn't want you to panic and think you had to convince me that I had become an atheist. :)
Saturday, January 23, 2010
Where I've Been
First of all, let me say thank you. You have no idea how grateful I am that you have agreed to journey with me. Regardless of where this leads me, I am so appreciative of you! So let's get started... first the background (and I apologize that I feel the need for this to be so long).
Childhood home: Again, I had it pretty good. But... I am adopted, and my brother is not. That caused several issues and left me feeling like I never quite belonged (I felt loved; I just didn't fit). The differences between me and the rest of my family are the primary source behind my parents' constant desire to make me be more like them. Let me reiterate that I had a pretty good childhood and was always loved! But I was/am never quite good enough to gain acceptance in my family. My grades, my activities, my level of skill in sports and music, my choice of college, my choice of career, etc. never quite measure up. This is a big factor in the voices I'm still hearing. My folks have been supportive financially through all of this (when I needed some assistance), but whatever job I'm working, whatever I do around the house, whatever I say/do... still isn't good enough, and they constantly remind me of that.
College: I had an awesome college experience! Really the only thing you need to know from this era is that it is when I was first challenged to really think for myself and it was the first time that my God questions were encouraged (not necessarily answered, but encouraged). It is also when Dr. Bill Moulder challenged me to listen for the call of God on my life and to think about youth ministry as a viable option. Rick Dunn also challenged me to test that call, which I did over the next 10 years of my life, before finally "caving in" to youth ministry.
Teaching: After college, I went back to Maplewood High School - my alma mater - to teach general music and choir. I loved the interaction with and the challenge of the students, but I struggled with the restrictions placed on us by the administration. I had real connection with several students, and I'd like to think that I actually influenced their lives for the better, but I had to be strangely silent on the things that really mattered - like Jesus. Everything changed for me when students with whom I had contact almost daily (between class and coaching) were killed in a car crash. I stood in front of one of the mothers as she said, "I know that you go to church and I just need to know: Is there any hope that my son knew your Jesus? Is there any hope that everything is OK for him now?" Almost 5 years of daily contact, and I had let my fears of losing my job keep me from ever mentioning Jesus. That combined with not ever being able to gain the favor of the administration (even with my involvement in sports, the "arts" part of me pretty much guaranteed my estrangement), led to serious consideration of that persistent knocking I had been hearing since my sophomore year of college.
Meadville church: The last three years I taught, I was involved at a church in the Meadville area. It was the first place where I could truly be myself and they still loved me. (Let me clarify that I had that sense of belonging in college, but I was still trying to figure out who I was, so it was different). I served as part of the youth minstry team and the praise team. Gregg mentored me in both areas and was well aware that I would end up in full-time ministry long before I was. This church encouraged me, challenged me, loved me, trained me and commissioned me when I finally accepted the call to full-time ministry. This is the church that keeps welcoming me back and helps me heal. Many of the people have changed, but I always find this to be a place of grace. It is far from perfect, but this church gives me hope that the church (in general) can be redeemed.
DuBois: This was my first full-time ministry opportunity. It is also the church that I now affectionately call "the church from hell." I was used and abused here - literally. I was manipulated into working 80+ hour work weeks (every week) because "it was for the Lord." I was cut off from relationships and voices that I needed in my life. I was told that I didn't pray, worship, teach, lead, love ... the right way. I have since seen many parallels between how I was treated and the abuse that many face in a marriage relationship. I understand why it is so hard for women to leave abusive husbands. It didn't take long for me to believe the lies I was being told. I believed no one else would ever consider hiring me for ministry. I believed that God was disappointed in me. I believed that I was worthless, never doing anything right (although you can see how my parents' voices played into this as well). In fact, I was even told by the pastor (after a 90+ hour work week) that I wasn't working hard enough or getting enough results. He ended that conversation by refering to a book we were reading as a staff and saying "You know, we read about Billy Graham's team retiring to the same area because they loved each other so much. Well, right now, I'm not even sure I want you to be a part of my team, let alone wanting to be with you forever." By the time I took my final stand (and was promptly fired), I was battered and spent emotionally, socially, mentally and spiritually. The way things ended cost me everything: my job, most of my friends, my home, a dating relationship, and realistically my faith. I now refer to this destruction as when Jesus got a hold of my life and ruined it (as Mike Yaconelli would say) - more on that later. When I was fired, I was blackmailed. I was told that they would continue to pay my salary and insurance for 3 months as long as I had no further contact with students, people from the church or anyone who may someday go to the church. A few weeks after I was fired, I was even told that in order to keep receiving the "compensation", I would have to go to the grocery store late at night to avoid running into people who may ask questions.
DuBois redemption: There were a few things that redeemed that DuBois church experience for me. The first was a few relationships: Joel and Kim, Judd and Jess - amazing people that I wish I had more contact with, but who are still able to be a part of my life. And Glenn. There was something special about that friendship. We struggled through life together and found that we had many life parallels. Glenn was the first person that I could be totally honest with and not fear repercussions. He allowed me to question everything without trying to give me all the answers. The pastor tried to destroy this relationship, but Glenn and his family wouldn't let that happen. Glenn, more than anyone else in my life, taught me how to be a friend and how to listen with the heart. The other redeeming factor in DuBois (thanks to Glenn) was contemplative prayer. Glenn arranged for me to attend the Sabbath retreat that changed everything for me.
Sabbath: That's where I first met Larry, Stephen, Beth and Jeannie. It's where I was finally able to see the truth of what was happening at DuBois. It's where Jesus got a hold of my life and started ruining it. And now, I wouldn't trade that "ruining" for anything. It's where I found the courage to stand up for myself. It's where the seed of truth that I am the beloved of God was planted. The faith that I had at the time couldn't stand up to what I was about to face in DuBois, but Jesus pretty much turned that faith upside down and provided me with the resources to rebuild it over the next few years. Contemplative prayer, creative prayer, and listening became vital to me. And though I didn't believe them at the time, the final words Jesus spoke to me (via Mike Yaconelli) at that retreat have continued to be a constant source of encouragement and wonder.
LaPorte: This was rebuilding. The ups and downs don't really matter. The specifics don't really matter. What does matter is that Doug (the pastor) allowed/gave me the space, resources and time I needed to heal. I was given freedom to create what I was feeling God leading me to do. I was free to think for myself, to question, to grow. Over time, I was able to establish amazing and healthy relationships - for which I will always be grateful. I was challenged to do new things -like tech support, preaching and different approaches to ministry. I was also free to develop T.A.G. (Time Alone with God), encouraged to take time for my personal relationship with Jesus, allowed some extra leeway to spend time with my family (which was needed since they were 6 hours away), encouraged to make connections with the people that I now consider my "YS family" and was actually appreciated and thanked for my contributions there. Again, this church was far from perfect, but it gave me hope for the church (in general). It also ruined the traditional youth ministry models for me.
Olean: In the midst of the LP experience, my dad had a serious accident and my grandmother died. I was feeling needed closer to home. Realistically, my folks only need help with a few things - basically two or three weekends a year - but I felt compelled to head closer to home. A number of things happend in LaPorte to signal the end of my time there (although none of them were directly related to me and I could have stayed). The Olean opportunity came up in the midst of that, and for some reason God wanted me there. From almost the very beginning, I knew something wasn't right. Although I had been told they wanted spiritual formation developed from a social youth ministry; they didn't. They told me they wanted me to develop the contemplative and experential worship options of the church. In the end I was "too contemplative." They said they wanted someone with some emerging church connections/philosophy because they were reinventing. In the end I was "too emergent." They wanted me to develop relationships and connections with people like Tony Jones and Mark Yaconelli and my other YS friends, but in the end they found those people/relationships very threatening. Oh yeah, and they had secretly been interviewing and lining up a "friend" of mine to come in and take the position as soon as I was out of the way. (That backfired because when I called Eric to tell him what happened, he freaked out and refused to take the position. He'd been told I was leaving voluntarily.)
Olean fallout: The real key to the Olean experience was that I was misled all along. They basically left me with no compensation other than the required 2 weeks pay, and everything happened so quickly while people were away for spring break, so there was very little closure there. Despite all that, I was OK with not being there anymore. I wasn't nearly as hurt as I thought I should have been. I was angry though. When they fired me (with no warning after just shy of 7 months), they told me that they didn't think I should be in youth ministry and maybe not in ministry at all. They refused to give me a reference for a future job, and the only other compensation they offered was to pay for me to drive 4 hours to sit with a "Christian career counselor" for an hour. (I declined and talked them into giving me the money to pay for the flights to all 3 YS conventions instead!) And then they told me that they knew me better than I know myself. It was that final statement, more than anything else, that made me angry. I hadn't spent any time with these people and I certainly hadn't let them into my life yet, and they thought they knew me? In case you haven't noticed, it takes me some time to trust people enough to let them in beyond the surface of my life.
Since Olean:So I moved home - into a single bedroom that I have to share with my dad's hunting equipment. I put the house up for sale (that would be 2 up for sale), moved all my stuff into an 8 x 10 storage room, and started doing whatever I could for work... At first I delivered flowers a few days a week while I looked for other opportunities. I was limited by the area because my folks made me promise I wouldn't move away. After all, I had moved back this way for them, right? But it didn't take long for me to remember why I struggled with my relationships with them so much when I lived at home. The disapproval and guilt-motivation tactics began flowing freely again. I liked my job, but I was only making a few hundred dollars a month, and that business was slowly headed under. So, I got talked into insurance. I studied every spare moment for 10 days and passed my licensing exam. A semi-local company put me on their staff, and I began another chapter of failure. It turns out that I'm too honest to sell insurance. I was primarily selling medicare supplements to 65 and older. Once I didn't have to travel hundreds of miles a day to meet with other agents and travel with them, I enjoyed meeting with people and helping them find the best option for their insurance. Unfortunately, in an economically depressed area, during an economic depression, and getting lower income leads, that rarely was the kind of insurance we had to offer. I helped people get into state-funded prescription programs and assisted med. sups. Needless to say, I didn't survive in that business too long. It ended up costing me over $2500 instead of actually making any money. And the company has a no compete clause, so I couldn't find another agency that might appreciate my efforts. A family friend offered me a job at his company, which is where I am now. I'm officially a metrologist. Don't worry, I had no idea what that was either - until I started working there. Basically, I measure parts to make sure they fit the print specifications before the manufacturer makes a ton of things that don't work the way they're supposed to. It's still a foreign language to me. I've learned quite a bit, but I still leave work every day feeling like a complete idiot, and now that I have been switched to second shift, I work from 3 PM - 1 AM, which means that I don't get to see friends or participate in things as I would like.
Ok, that should put everyone up to speed. I'll be posting again shortly to tell you where I am now and what led to the need to ask you all for help.
Childhood Faith: I grew up in a pretty conservative, very traditional church. I was taught things like don't ask questions and women can only do these ministries: music, teach Sunday School, help in the kitchen, lead a women's bible study or be the pastor's wife. Those rules aside, I had some pretty awesome influences in my life growing up. When I started getting kicked out of Sunday School on a regular basis for asking questions (see, even then I didn't follow the rules very well), the pastor was great at keeping me out of trouble with my mom and helping me to see that it was important that my faith became my own instead of just parroting the faith of others. A number of the older ladies taught me valuable life skills, shared their wisdom and taught me teamwork and compassion. I look back on most of this church experience as being full of people who encouraged me and loved me.
Childhood home: Again, I had it pretty good. But... I am adopted, and my brother is not. That caused several issues and left me feeling like I never quite belonged (I felt loved; I just didn't fit). The differences between me and the rest of my family are the primary source behind my parents' constant desire to make me be more like them. Let me reiterate that I had a pretty good childhood and was always loved! But I was/am never quite good enough to gain acceptance in my family. My grades, my activities, my level of skill in sports and music, my choice of college, my choice of career, etc. never quite measure up. This is a big factor in the voices I'm still hearing. My folks have been supportive financially through all of this (when I needed some assistance), but whatever job I'm working, whatever I do around the house, whatever I say/do... still isn't good enough, and they constantly remind me of that.
College: I had an awesome college experience! Really the only thing you need to know from this era is that it is when I was first challenged to really think for myself and it was the first time that my God questions were encouraged (not necessarily answered, but encouraged). It is also when Dr. Bill Moulder challenged me to listen for the call of God on my life and to think about youth ministry as a viable option. Rick Dunn also challenged me to test that call, which I did over the next 10 years of my life, before finally "caving in" to youth ministry.
Teaching: After college, I went back to Maplewood High School - my alma mater - to teach general music and choir. I loved the interaction with and the challenge of the students, but I struggled with the restrictions placed on us by the administration. I had real connection with several students, and I'd like to think that I actually influenced their lives for the better, but I had to be strangely silent on the things that really mattered - like Jesus. Everything changed for me when students with whom I had contact almost daily (between class and coaching) were killed in a car crash. I stood in front of one of the mothers as she said, "I know that you go to church and I just need to know: Is there any hope that my son knew your Jesus? Is there any hope that everything is OK for him now?" Almost 5 years of daily contact, and I had let my fears of losing my job keep me from ever mentioning Jesus. That combined with not ever being able to gain the favor of the administration (even with my involvement in sports, the "arts" part of me pretty much guaranteed my estrangement), led to serious consideration of that persistent knocking I had been hearing since my sophomore year of college.
Meadville church: The last three years I taught, I was involved at a church in the Meadville area. It was the first place where I could truly be myself and they still loved me. (Let me clarify that I had that sense of belonging in college, but I was still trying to figure out who I was, so it was different). I served as part of the youth minstry team and the praise team. Gregg mentored me in both areas and was well aware that I would end up in full-time ministry long before I was. This church encouraged me, challenged me, loved me, trained me and commissioned me when I finally accepted the call to full-time ministry. This is the church that keeps welcoming me back and helps me heal. Many of the people have changed, but I always find this to be a place of grace. It is far from perfect, but this church gives me hope that the church (in general) can be redeemed.
DuBois: This was my first full-time ministry opportunity. It is also the church that I now affectionately call "the church from hell." I was used and abused here - literally. I was manipulated into working 80+ hour work weeks (every week) because "it was for the Lord." I was cut off from relationships and voices that I needed in my life. I was told that I didn't pray, worship, teach, lead, love ... the right way. I have since seen many parallels between how I was treated and the abuse that many face in a marriage relationship. I understand why it is so hard for women to leave abusive husbands. It didn't take long for me to believe the lies I was being told. I believed no one else would ever consider hiring me for ministry. I believed that God was disappointed in me. I believed that I was worthless, never doing anything right (although you can see how my parents' voices played into this as well). In fact, I was even told by the pastor (after a 90+ hour work week) that I wasn't working hard enough or getting enough results. He ended that conversation by refering to a book we were reading as a staff and saying "You know, we read about Billy Graham's team retiring to the same area because they loved each other so much. Well, right now, I'm not even sure I want you to be a part of my team, let alone wanting to be with you forever." By the time I took my final stand (and was promptly fired), I was battered and spent emotionally, socially, mentally and spiritually. The way things ended cost me everything: my job, most of my friends, my home, a dating relationship, and realistically my faith. I now refer to this destruction as when Jesus got a hold of my life and ruined it (as Mike Yaconelli would say) - more on that later. When I was fired, I was blackmailed. I was told that they would continue to pay my salary and insurance for 3 months as long as I had no further contact with students, people from the church or anyone who may someday go to the church. A few weeks after I was fired, I was even told that in order to keep receiving the "compensation", I would have to go to the grocery store late at night to avoid running into people who may ask questions.
DuBois redemption: There were a few things that redeemed that DuBois church experience for me. The first was a few relationships: Joel and Kim, Judd and Jess - amazing people that I wish I had more contact with, but who are still able to be a part of my life. And Glenn. There was something special about that friendship. We struggled through life together and found that we had many life parallels. Glenn was the first person that I could be totally honest with and not fear repercussions. He allowed me to question everything without trying to give me all the answers. The pastor tried to destroy this relationship, but Glenn and his family wouldn't let that happen. Glenn, more than anyone else in my life, taught me how to be a friend and how to listen with the heart. The other redeeming factor in DuBois (thanks to Glenn) was contemplative prayer. Glenn arranged for me to attend the Sabbath retreat that changed everything for me.
Sabbath: That's where I first met Larry, Stephen, Beth and Jeannie. It's where I was finally able to see the truth of what was happening at DuBois. It's where Jesus got a hold of my life and started ruining it. And now, I wouldn't trade that "ruining" for anything. It's where I found the courage to stand up for myself. It's where the seed of truth that I am the beloved of God was planted. The faith that I had at the time couldn't stand up to what I was about to face in DuBois, but Jesus pretty much turned that faith upside down and provided me with the resources to rebuild it over the next few years. Contemplative prayer, creative prayer, and listening became vital to me. And though I didn't believe them at the time, the final words Jesus spoke to me (via Mike Yaconelli) at that retreat have continued to be a constant source of encouragement and wonder.
LaPorte: This was rebuilding. The ups and downs don't really matter. The specifics don't really matter. What does matter is that Doug (the pastor) allowed/gave me the space, resources and time I needed to heal. I was given freedom to create what I was feeling God leading me to do. I was free to think for myself, to question, to grow. Over time, I was able to establish amazing and healthy relationships - for which I will always be grateful. I was challenged to do new things -like tech support, preaching and different approaches to ministry. I was also free to develop T.A.G. (Time Alone with God), encouraged to take time for my personal relationship with Jesus, allowed some extra leeway to spend time with my family (which was needed since they were 6 hours away), encouraged to make connections with the people that I now consider my "YS family" and was actually appreciated and thanked for my contributions there. Again, this church was far from perfect, but it gave me hope for the church (in general). It also ruined the traditional youth ministry models for me.
Olean: In the midst of the LP experience, my dad had a serious accident and my grandmother died. I was feeling needed closer to home. Realistically, my folks only need help with a few things - basically two or three weekends a year - but I felt compelled to head closer to home. A number of things happend in LaPorte to signal the end of my time there (although none of them were directly related to me and I could have stayed). The Olean opportunity came up in the midst of that, and for some reason God wanted me there. From almost the very beginning, I knew something wasn't right. Although I had been told they wanted spiritual formation developed from a social youth ministry; they didn't. They told me they wanted me to develop the contemplative and experential worship options of the church. In the end I was "too contemplative." They said they wanted someone with some emerging church connections/philosophy because they were reinventing. In the end I was "too emergent." They wanted me to develop relationships and connections with people like Tony Jones and Mark Yaconelli and my other YS friends, but in the end they found those people/relationships very threatening. Oh yeah, and they had secretly been interviewing and lining up a "friend" of mine to come in and take the position as soon as I was out of the way. (That backfired because when I called Eric to tell him what happened, he freaked out and refused to take the position. He'd been told I was leaving voluntarily.)
Olean fallout: The real key to the Olean experience was that I was misled all along. They basically left me with no compensation other than the required 2 weeks pay, and everything happened so quickly while people were away for spring break, so there was very little closure there. Despite all that, I was OK with not being there anymore. I wasn't nearly as hurt as I thought I should have been. I was angry though. When they fired me (with no warning after just shy of 7 months), they told me that they didn't think I should be in youth ministry and maybe not in ministry at all. They refused to give me a reference for a future job, and the only other compensation they offered was to pay for me to drive 4 hours to sit with a "Christian career counselor" for an hour. (I declined and talked them into giving me the money to pay for the flights to all 3 YS conventions instead!) And then they told me that they knew me better than I know myself. It was that final statement, more than anything else, that made me angry. I hadn't spent any time with these people and I certainly hadn't let them into my life yet, and they thought they knew me? In case you haven't noticed, it takes me some time to trust people enough to let them in beyond the surface of my life.
Since Olean:So I moved home - into a single bedroom that I have to share with my dad's hunting equipment. I put the house up for sale (that would be 2 up for sale), moved all my stuff into an 8 x 10 storage room, and started doing whatever I could for work... At first I delivered flowers a few days a week while I looked for other opportunities. I was limited by the area because my folks made me promise I wouldn't move away. After all, I had moved back this way for them, right? But it didn't take long for me to remember why I struggled with my relationships with them so much when I lived at home. The disapproval and guilt-motivation tactics began flowing freely again. I liked my job, but I was only making a few hundred dollars a month, and that business was slowly headed under. So, I got talked into insurance. I studied every spare moment for 10 days and passed my licensing exam. A semi-local company put me on their staff, and I began another chapter of failure. It turns out that I'm too honest to sell insurance. I was primarily selling medicare supplements to 65 and older. Once I didn't have to travel hundreds of miles a day to meet with other agents and travel with them, I enjoyed meeting with people and helping them find the best option for their insurance. Unfortunately, in an economically depressed area, during an economic depression, and getting lower income leads, that rarely was the kind of insurance we had to offer. I helped people get into state-funded prescription programs and assisted med. sups. Needless to say, I didn't survive in that business too long. It ended up costing me over $2500 instead of actually making any money. And the company has a no compete clause, so I couldn't find another agency that might appreciate my efforts. A family friend offered me a job at his company, which is where I am now. I'm officially a metrologist. Don't worry, I had no idea what that was either - until I started working there. Basically, I measure parts to make sure they fit the print specifications before the manufacturer makes a ton of things that don't work the way they're supposed to. It's still a foreign language to me. I've learned quite a bit, but I still leave work every day feeling like a complete idiot, and now that I have been switched to second shift, I work from 3 PM - 1 AM, which means that I don't get to see friends or participate in things as I would like.
Ok, that should put everyone up to speed. I'll be posting again shortly to tell you where I am now and what led to the need to ask you all for help.
Friday, January 22, 2010
Take Me To My Lord
As usual, someone else has said it better...
Is it fair? Can I ask?
I need some help this once.
Life has treated me hard.
I fear I'm burden to everyone.
Take me to my Lord, O brothers of mine.
I know that my faith will heal me.
My legs won't carry me that far,
But you - with your love - I know you will. I know you will.
I have waited so long.
This man is more than a man.
If I'm seen in the flesh, such tears of joy will be my thanks to you.
Take me to my Lord, O sisters of mine.
I know that my faith will heal me.
My legs won't carry me that far,
But you - with your love -I know you will. I know you will.
Bring me there.
My own legs will carry me home.
Bring me there, bring me there.
My own legs will carry me home.
I know they will.
Is it fair? Can I ask?
I need some help this once.
I have faith in my Lord, and also I have faith in you, my friends.
Take me to my Lord, O brothers of mine.
I know that my faith will heal me.
My legs won't carry me that far
But you - with your love - I know you will.
Take me to my Lord, O sisters of mine.
I know that my faith will heal me.
My legs won't carry me that far
But you - with your love - I know you will.
I know you will. -Stephen Iverson
OK, so here's the deal. Most of you know that I've been struggling for the last 10 months, and at this point, I'm feeling pretty beat up and alone. Most of this is due to the voices (don't worry, they're real people) in my life for the majority of this time. The problem is that I can't seem to find Jesus or the voice of truth in the chaos that is my life. I've tried all the things that I know to do - all the things that have worked for me in the past - to no avail. So I'm hoping that some of you will be willing to "listen" and, through your wisdom and prayers, to help me find that precious voice again.
It's going to take time. Some of you haven't know me long/well enough to know the history and the reasons for getting to this point, so I'll have to do some backtracking to fill that in. I apologize ahead of time to those who already know those stories, and I give you permission to skip over them. My hope is that, in the sharing of where I've been and where I am, I'll find some clarity, and that you (meaning those who choose to accept this mission) will be able to speak truth, challenge and love into my life at a time when there aren't too many voices doing that for me.
So, I'm only posting this link as a broad invitation. For those who are willing to "take me to my Lord," please let me know. Once I know who's on this journey with me, I'll send those people a facebook group message or email (depending on where you are technology-wise) so that everyone can see the postings, contribute and see where this leads me.
And Stephen, whether you participate in this discussion or not, thanks for being a part of the journey through your music. It's been one of the few voices of truth that I've had over the last few months.
Is it fair? Can I ask?
I need some help this once.
Life has treated me hard.
I fear I'm burden to everyone.
Take me to my Lord, O brothers of mine.
I know that my faith will heal me.
My legs won't carry me that far,
But you - with your love - I know you will. I know you will.
I have waited so long.
This man is more than a man.
If I'm seen in the flesh, such tears of joy will be my thanks to you.
Take me to my Lord, O sisters of mine.
I know that my faith will heal me.
My legs won't carry me that far,
But you - with your love -I know you will. I know you will.
Bring me there.
My own legs will carry me home.
Bring me there, bring me there.
My own legs will carry me home.
I know they will.
Is it fair? Can I ask?
I need some help this once.
I have faith in my Lord, and also I have faith in you, my friends.
Take me to my Lord, O brothers of mine.
I know that my faith will heal me.
My legs won't carry me that far
But you - with your love - I know you will.
Take me to my Lord, O sisters of mine.
I know that my faith will heal me.
My legs won't carry me that far
But you - with your love - I know you will.
I know you will. -Stephen Iverson
OK, so here's the deal. Most of you know that I've been struggling for the last 10 months, and at this point, I'm feeling pretty beat up and alone. Most of this is due to the voices (don't worry, they're real people) in my life for the majority of this time. The problem is that I can't seem to find Jesus or the voice of truth in the chaos that is my life. I've tried all the things that I know to do - all the things that have worked for me in the past - to no avail. So I'm hoping that some of you will be willing to "listen" and, through your wisdom and prayers, to help me find that precious voice again.
It's going to take time. Some of you haven't know me long/well enough to know the history and the reasons for getting to this point, so I'll have to do some backtracking to fill that in. I apologize ahead of time to those who already know those stories, and I give you permission to skip over them. My hope is that, in the sharing of where I've been and where I am, I'll find some clarity, and that you (meaning those who choose to accept this mission) will be able to speak truth, challenge and love into my life at a time when there aren't too many voices doing that for me.
So, I'm only posting this link as a broad invitation. For those who are willing to "take me to my Lord," please let me know. Once I know who's on this journey with me, I'll send those people a facebook group message or email (depending on where you are technology-wise) so that everyone can see the postings, contribute and see where this leads me.
And Stephen, whether you participate in this discussion or not, thanks for being a part of the journey through your music. It's been one of the few voices of truth that I've had over the last few months.
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