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.
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