Dreams on a Distant Shore

You'll do exploits they said.  You'll change the world they said.  You have a great destiny they said.  We believed them.  

What they didn't teach us was how to fail.  What they didn't teach us was what to do when our dreams didn't come true.  They didn't talk to us about lost idealism, and how some would fall of their horses, and never get back on.  They didn't tell us of their own failures, they didn't tell us that because to whom much is given, much is required---that graduation basically meant our lives were now open season for the enemy---and that he would come at us HARD for the next 20-30 years of our lives.

The loss of idealism was like being on this wonderful merry-go-round of faith---beautiful music, lovely visuals, whimsy and laughter with the other riders.  Innocence.  And just as you were wishing for the ride to never end, the experience became violent.  The horses looked frenzied and spooked.  The platform started whirling faster and faster and the music became demented.  When the speed reached fever pitch, you were thrown off, landing in a pile of dust far from the other riders, each one scrapping on their own to find survival.  Some didn't make it.

They never told us about the evil merry-go-round.

When you've done your best to find destiny; you've taken the gift tests, you've read all the destiny books, you've tried hard to hone your ear to hear the Lord and obey what He's asked, but life still disappoints, what then?  When you look all around you and see others living the dream.  When you go to church, and hear testimony after testimony and you read Christian books and hear magnificent miracles, and amazing tales of saints who have had magnificent visitations of God and seemingly everything has gone their way, how do you maintain hope?

These are the questions I asked at 24, after my first ride on the merry-go-round.  After watching an entire community of faith dissolve and the most passionate believers I have ever had the privilege of calling friends dissipate.

These are the questions I asked at 38, after spending 10 years in New York City----the place every fiber of my being longed for, the place I was without a doubt, born to be, and also the place where every single dream died.  

These are the questions asked of us yesterday, as I sat amongst a group of other seasoned warriors.

These are questions I'm still answering, but I've found a few answers along the way.

1. Destiny is a word we always associate with the future.  What is difficult to see is how much of our true God-given destiny has already been lived out.  That person we took a meal to, the kind word of encouragement that wasn't planned but just flowed out of us when a friend was down, the offerings we've given over a lifetime.  We tend to discount these things.  They are most precious to God.  He remembers them all.

2. It's much harder to miss the will of God than we think.  Jonah flat out sprinted in the opposite direction of the will of God.  He still fulfilled his purpose.  

2. Nobody's life is how it appears on Facebook.  Very few live a life of continual miracles.  And if they do, they still have problems.  They aren't turning water into wine at their weddings. They still sin.  They still have to ask for forgiveness.

3. Sometimes we expect our lives to be like the Book of Acts.  But Acts tells the story of the APOSTLES.  Most of us are not.  Apostles.  Think about it.  I'd rather compare my life to Mary Magdalene.  Here's a woman who was troubled by demons, was set free, and became a loyal follower of Jesus. She was part of a company who helped fund his travels and went along to hear his teaching firsthand.  She was there at the cross until the bitter end and among the first to see him resurrected.  

This was the destiny of a woman at the time of Christ.  She got saved, forsook her past, gave her funds to support his work, followed him and remained loyal.  Nowhere do we read of her preaching, or leading 50 people to Christ.  As far as we know, she didn't perform miracles, she didn't take in 100 orphans, she didn't lead a women's group.  Or maybe she did.  But what our LORD valued is what was recorded.  SHE LOVED HIM. That's it. Destiny.

4.  It's easy to think destiny has to happen in the context of the local church.  Deep down we all long for affirmation and recognition.  At church, those who lead or are upfront are typically those who we think are REALLY doing God's work.  We don't feel we are really doing anything if we're not currently serving at church and attending every meeting and advancing toward leadership.

The truth is-----Church Leadership exists to EQUIP THE SAINTS TO DO THE WORK OF THE MINISTRY (Ephesians 4:12).  Their job is prepare us for our good works IN THE MARKETPLACE.

Longing to be a leader in the church?  Is really longing to teach others to do what WE ARE SUPPOSED TO BE DOING ALL THE TIME OURSELVES. Making a difference out there.  On the job, in the world.

How do we miss this?

For those of us who are in the latter part of our lives, and who have taken many rides on the merry-go-round---we have learned much, and have much to share.  Our challenge is to recover hope, grow in the faith that God responds to----and live in optimism, knowing that the God who saved us is the God who is going to enable us to say with Paul, "I have fought a good fight, I have finished my course . . ."

---

Photo credit:  Justin Liebow on Unsplash

https://unsplash.com/@justinleibow

A Different Way of Seeing

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Today, I was offered a fresh page in a relationship.  Imagine an ivory piece of stationery with nothing written on it.  Pure, crisp, clean.  

Imagine a favorite shirt coming out of the dryer, and it's warmth on your skin as you breathe deeply and smell spring left by a dryer sheet.

Imagine grace washing over you like a waterfall; water that is just right in temperature; as it cascades over your head, and you stand under the water for a long time, letting its hydration wash away pain, scrub away past mistakes.

Today was like that.

Relationships are tricky.  What I've learned? is that when friendships hurt--it is because I have something inside of me wrong or twisted, that fails to trust the good intentions of the one I'm relating to.

When I am insulted, it is because my friend has touched an insecurity.

When I am wounded, it's often because my friend has spoken truth, but it's truth I haven't told myself yet.

When I am incensed, I am often responding to a trigger, losing sight of the face and heart right in front of me, forgetting who they are to me, and all the acts of friendship which have preceded that moment.

When I feel controlled, I am deeply afraid and anxious---because what would life be like if I were not in control?

I'm not saying pain is not real.  I'm not saying others don't sin against us.  

But I find that when I clean up my heart?  There is less to hurt.  

If you knew the story? You'd know, I didn't deserve another chance.  

I'm glad my friend decided to try again anyway.

How to Be with a Suicidal Friend

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I've been truly suicidal twice in my life.  But I've lived with clinical depression most of my adult life.

I was a happy, healthy, well-adjusted kid.  Just ask my parents.  Somewhere around age 30, I got hit with a whole wheelbarrow of emotions, and the tendency to cry when absolutely nothing was wrong.  And it's never left.  This post is not about that.  But you can read about it here.

The first time I was in a place where I could have truly committed the act? It came on suddenly. You NEVER hear that.  There's this idea out there that people who kill themselves have been in the throes of depression (secretly or openly).  I'm here to tell you, THAT is not my experience. I was NOT in a season of melancholy leading up to this night.  I was with friends, and had a moment of feeling acute rejection---which was not detectable to them.  It was a thought which grew into a big, black cloud in a matter of hours.  By the time 2 of them had dropped me off at my apartment, I was swirling in deep, black darkness.  It's tough to even describe, but as surely as I've felt the presence of God----that night the presence of evil wrapped itself around me like the worst kind of blanket, and slowly began to suck the life out of me. 

I was absolutely despondent and filled with a deep sense of hopelessness.  More than anything, I wanted to go and jump in front of the E train which was a few blocks away.  Only sheer exhaustion kept me from doing it.

I'm not going to pretend my experience is the same as everyone else's.  But, besides that night---my first 2 years back in the Northwest?  I prayed every day for God to kill me---or to let me go home, to heaven.  And I entertained suicidal ideation for years---as a way of escape, any time life got tough and for a long time after New York?  Life was always tough.  I've been around the block a few times on the suicide thing.

So here's my best advice on what to say, and NOT to say.

1.  Offer absolute acceptance and love and not one shred of judgment.

If your friend has told you they are suicidal, they are handing you a huge gift of trust.  In the two times I was suicidal---I could not tell a soul.  In fact for me, one of the things which has to be present for me to truly be capable of the act---is I have to feel cut off from my main support system.  Something has gotten in the way of those closest friendships or I wouldn't feel what I feel.

2.  Don't give advice.

The sheer level of grief a suicidal person is experiencing is life draining.  They are exhausted. Having to listen to someone go on and on about how they overcame something or having to hear a person talk down to them (no matter your intentions, this is how it will come across) while pretending to be grateful will drain them further, and make them feel more like a loser.

3.  Listen, listen, listen

Find out what has been happening in their life.  What brought them to this place?   What would give them hope?  What do they feel like they need right now to make life worth living? What are they angry about?  How can you best support them in this time?

4.  Know that talking about suicide is not going to make them more likely to commit it.

If they have opened the door and invited you in, telling you they want to die---they need to talk about it.  They want to talk about it.  Find out how long they have been thinking about it. Find out how they intend to carry it out.  (If they have a plan on how to end their life, stay with them until you feel they are out of danger, or until someone else can be there, especially if they have the means at their disposal to do it.)

5. Help them discover why they want to kill themselves.

In most of my suicide ideation? I am hurt by someone close to me and want revenge.  I want to take my anger out on myself so that whomever I'm mad at will be sad and I'll get even. Sometimes, though---it's just an escape---the same as a movie might be.  Having a "way out" can provide comfort when the pain is sharp.

Some people kill themselves over despair over their future, feeling trapped in an oppressive work environment or relationship.  Some people panic when big world events happen like the stock market crashes. There will always be an element of hopelessness in a suicidal person. The key is finding out what is making them feel that way.  

After you've helped someone figure out why they want to die, gently lead them to alternatives which might accomplish their true goal.  So, for me?  Reminding me of how the person I'm angry with has shown me love would help.  Or reminding me of upcoming events I want to be present for might help.

6. Be real

The two things which made me stop even thinking about suicide are these:

1-I read about all the attempts gone bad.  The internet is full of stories of individuals who tried to kill themselves and the aftermath they now live in.  Turns out?  It's not that easy to do.  And people mess it up ALL THE TIME.  And live maimed the rest of their life.  Scary stuff.

2-It's a hard question theologically.  And not one I suggest you broach with certainty.  But I've come to the personal conclusion that suicide is murder.  And unrepented murder.  I don't want to take a chance on eternity with that on my record.  Scary stuff.

Yes, I would talk to suicidal people about these two things.  It might be the only thing which saves their life.  They might get mad.  But mad energizes.  And energy is good.

7.  Do not take the stance that the person "just wants attention."  

First of all, SO WHAT IF THEY DO?  I have no problem giving the homeless money EVEN if I know they'll use it to drink---because Damn it, if anyone has a right to drink---it's someone with no home!!!! (Most people drink for much less!) If someone is in despair enough to outright ask for attention by saying the "S" word-----WHY WITHHOLD IT?  

Second, being suicidal invites shame.  It is a TOUGH thing to admit out loud even to those close.  People don't throw that word around lightly.  If a person admits to feeling this way, and you have any ounce of love for them (or humanity) take it seriously.  Smother them with love. Where did we ever get this idea that giving someone what they are asking for LOUDLY is less worthy than giving it to them just because???? (Yes, this attitude makes me absolutely crazy.)

Third, most suicidal people are not just wanting attention.  If they are talking about it, then they are thinking seriously about it, and are in deep pain.

8. Keep treating them normal.

After the crisis has passed, be normal.  Don't walk on eggshells around them.  Check in on them, but don't tiptoe.  Ask them for favors.  Make them feel needed.  Tell them your problems. Maybe not the next day, but let them know you still see them as a whole, sane, wonderful person that you love, want in your life, and even need.

Sooner or later, we all encounter people in crisis.  Sooner or later, we all are the person in crisis. We all need one another, and we can all be the friend that comes alongside.

If you're ever feeling suicidal, message me or call me.  

Here's another option I've used from time to time:

http://www.samaritans.org/

Be well, friends.

On Not Giving Up

I started Crossfit two and a half months ago.  It’s one of the hardest things I’ve ever done.  It’s one of the most rewarding things I’ve ever done.  There are times I have to force myself to go to “the box”, and once there force myself to keep moving, when every muscle in my body is screaming at me to stop.  There are moves that greatly scare me because they are so counter-intuitive to any way I’ve ever moved my body before.  There are times it’s tough because I get asked more often than I’d like, “Is this your first time?”

By English: Cpl. Jennifer B. Poole [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons

Every one of us have had things we’ve tried or seasons in our lives which required staying power.  We all have stories of perseverance thru trials which made us stronger, and that taught us lessons which could only be learned by walking thru difficult times.  Crossfit is like that.

My first year of teaching was like that.  I was teaching at a school in the South Bronx, in a neighborhood which Jonathan Kozol, documents in his book, Amazing Grace, as being “the poorest congressional district in the country,” and the police precinct having the highest homicidal and rape rate in the country.

I had 27 second graders, and my most difficult ones, eventually ended up in classes with small class sizes to go with their high needs.  One, whom I’ll call Jontae, had to be entreated to come in on the first day.  Administrators spent 45 minutes coaxing him in.  I quickly learned not to get too physically close to Jontae, unless I wanted to be called Motherfucker and Bitch.  I also learned he had no intention of ever doing what I asked.

One of my little girls was a crack baby.  Tasha was skinny skinny, had a wonderful grandma who did the best she could, but due to the drugs in Tasha’s system when she was born, Tasha had physical as well as emotional challenges.  She was prone to teasing, because of the continual thick green congestion in her nose.  She left piles of torn paper wherever she had been.  But, she was a fiery little girl, who didn’t take anything from anyone and kids learned to leave her alone or face her wrath.

Andina made her entrance to second grade an hour late, coming in, flinging her backpack across the room, shouting, “I don’t wanna be in this stupid class.”  It was one of those moments when you stop and ask yourself, “How exactly did I get here?”

The year ended up holding nearly every experience a typical teacher might have in the course of their careers including events such as: watching a colleague being hauled off to jail on false abuse accusations, being told by a fellow (adult) teacher to move because I was sitting in her seat in the teacher’s lounge, having mice in the classroom, having to turn a class around in the stairwell because someone had defecated in ours—again, placing second grade students as guards watching our outside bulletin board because bands of older students kicked out of their classrooms would rip them down.  The entire school board was forced to resign due to corruption, I had to report the physical abuse of a child and his siblings and then wait 8 hours in a courthouse 300 feet away from the man I was testifying against, only to be told to come back the next day.  There are more stories in that first year than I can tell here, and some belong only to late night conversations after hours of honesty, laughter, and self- disclosure.

If ever it has been true in my life, it was true that first year of teaching: I needed staying power.  I remember sitting in my pastor’s office, wanting to quit, wanting to go home.  It was too hard, I told him.  He and his wife did their best to pour courage into me that evening, but ultimately I returned to the classroom because there was no safety net if I failed.  I had dreamed of NYC and destiny for years.  I could not fail.  It would be giving up everything God had called me to, and the loss of purpose was a cost too great to bear.

So, I drafted a letter to my boss, asking for help, and received it in small measure.  The rest of my year was no easier, and in fact, near the end I fled the classroom one afternoon crying, and our librarian had to watch my group while I recovered.  But I didn’t quit.  I spent 3 more years in the Bronx, and quickly learned classroom management skills which have served me my entire career.  The next year at the same school, I was given one of the toughest boys coming up.  I determined I was going to like him, and he was going to like me. I learned that the secret of really good teaching (like everything else) is being intentional about cultivating good relationships with students, and the harder, the sooner.  Giovanni and I had a great year together, and the Christmas card he gave me is still one of my favorite mementos of teaching.  I learned staying power.

In Biblical Greek, the word for patience is HUPOMONE.  It means “to stay under,” and applied carries the idea of not moving out from under a trial, a circumstance, a season. Hupomone is staying power. 

I’m at a time in my life today and for the past 6 months really, once again in need of Hupomone.  It’s not a story I can share, but it is a culminating battle of life, the kind which calls to arms every skill and victory from the past. It’s a battle begun in childhood, and one I’ve been expecting for a long time.  It demands every ounce of spiritual strength, mental strength, and emotional strength I possess.  In some ways it’s the toughest battle I ever remember fighting, and it’s made tougher because it’s a fight I must fight alone.  I bear huge battle scars already, and it’s difficult to see from my vantage point what ground has been gained, or how much longer the battle must rage on. 

Today, I’m thankful for the battles of the past, because without the strength and faith gained in those scuffles, I surely would have given up on the battlefield already, or just plain walked away and refused to be a warrior any longer, allowing the enemy of our souls to turn me into a bitter one, devoid of hope.

Maybe you are in a similar place.  Lately, I’ve heard of a lot of stories which sound familiar to mine; defining, catastrophic battles that can change a destiny.  Maybe you are in a battle which cannot be shared, maybe you are in an alone season too.  Have hope.  We’ve been training for this all our Christian lives.  We can do this.

Maybe you can’t relate to a word I’ve written, and are questioning my theology.  Be nice anyway, and try not to judge.  Your battle will come, as sure as your Father in heaven loves you. 

One way I endure particularly tough Crossfit WOD’s, is to find the parts of the workout I like and look forward to those parts during the parts I don’t like.  Today the sun is out, and I have dinner plans with some friends.  The battle rages on, but I choose to rejoice.  And I choose to Hupomone. 

Spiritual Separation Anxiety

One of my earliest memories is standing at the screen door of my first home, watching my mom get in our station wagon and pull out of the garage.  I was probably two.  I can remember distinctly how angry I was.  I was sobbing hysterically, and yelling at her, if not in words, than certainly with my spirit.   My sense of betrayal ran deep.  HOW DARE SHE LEAVE?  Yes, I knew she was returning in a few hours. Yes, I knew my dad was there.  Yes, I knew everything would be fine.  I would not be soothed. 

One of my earliest memories as a teen who had just made the decision to make Jesus Lord of my life---was my first time in the desert, that “deep night of the soul” that saints of other eras reference when God seems to disappear.   I had loved Jesus from a young age, often retreating to the wooded islands and beaches of our small Alaskan town, to climb a tree and sing to Him.  At age 16, I had just made a fresh commitment to God---after a season of trying what the world had to offer.  I was young and had spent a lifetime in great worship services and youth meetings where the sweet honey of His presence flowed freely.  His felt presence had been there as long as I could remember even in the rebellious moments.

Then, all of a sudden, after entering into true covenant---His presence was gone.  I prayed and felt nothing.  That sweetness of heaven which had always been my portion and which I took for granted vanished.  My sense of betrayal ran deep.  HOW DARE HE LEAVE ME?  I had just pledged my lifelong love!

There have been many deserts since that first one.  Some I have handled well, and others mirror my early childhood experience of separation anxiety.

We all have a degree of fear of abandonment in relationships.   Perhaps because we’ve all experienced important people in our lives walking away.  Friends who up and left that we had thought would stand the test of time.  The internet is filled with sour grapes wisdom that amounts to rejecting those who reject us.  (You know the ones:  If they left, they were never your friend.  Or the slightly more fatalistic---People come into your life for a season to teach you a lesson.  They weren’t meant to stay. )

Somehow that fear of abandonment gets superimposed upon a 100% faithful God too.  We ascribe to God the qualities of man and believe in our humanness that the Sovereign Lord of the Universe is capable of the same acts as those who have let us down by leaving.

Sometimes our spiritual separation anxiety comes in different forms.  We might still enjoy His presence, but not be able to discern His voice for a season.  It could be that everything is going well—but we lose faith in one area---such as healing for our own infirmity, or faith that God can turn the heart of a wayward child.  Maybe we have faith for cancer, or our finances---but can’t quite find Him or His will in the middle of a relationship conflict which is crushing us, and has thrown our social equilibrium out of balance and left us emotionally bankrupt.

We think that in these instances, He is there for everyone but us.  We believe He has walked away or no longer sees us, or maybe even that in certain situations, He no longer cares.  The reality is:  One of God’s redemptive names is actually “THE GOD WHO IS THERE.” (Jehovah Shammah).  The reality is: God will never leave us nor forsake us.  The reality is: God is a Father like no other. 

When we can’t feel Him, He is there.  When we can’t discern His voice, He is still speaking.  When others betray us, He is still 100% faithful.  When others give up on us, He never will.  If you’re experiencing a season of spiritual separation anxiety, here are a few thoughts which might help:

1-Experts suggest that one way to combat a child’s separation anxiety is to leave a familiar object with the child which will remind them of family.  In my early years as a Christian I kept a running list of all of my “special” times with the Lord.  Reading them from time to time would evoke the strong emotions of that experience again.

2.  Rehearse the truth of God in your life.  Find Bible verses on your area of need and declare them each morning over your life.  For example, when you feel like God is absent from your life, you could quote Psalms 119:151 Thou art near, O LORD, And all Thy commandments are truth.  Declaring the truth out loud dispels lies.

3.  Spiritual separation anxiety that continues over a long period of time may stem from a fear of permanent abandonment of God---or the fear of hell.  Studying balanced books on grace and the Fatherhood of God can help erase that fear and replace it with a Godly perspective of the gospel.  A great author to start with is Timothy Keller.

As a good dad loves his kids even when away from them, so God’s love for you and I remains real, even when we don’t feel Him or sense Him moving in our lives.  Instead of asking HOW DARE HE LEAVE US? we can rejoice in the knowledge of the faithfulness of a GOD WHO IS THERE and who gives us free access to His person whenever we ask.

For Better or For Worse

I attend a warm, friendly church in Vancouver, WA where Jesus is lifted up, and the presence of God is treasured. We have small group meetings during the week called "House Church" that become like minature families.

A few weeks ago our house church pastor posed the question, "What brought you to this church, and why do you stay?" A week or two later our discussion focused around staying put in difficult situations. These questions and our discussions have been tumbling around in my spirit, begging expression.

Maybe it’s in part because I’ve seen so many give up on church.  Or give up on the particular body they were in community with, the people they had invested years of time with.  It seems like there’s been a lot of folks walking away lately.

There are a lot of reasons people leave specific churches, or the institution of church altogether. Doctrine, job relocation, disillusionment, a breakdown of relationships, stagnancy . . .offense.

The reality of life is . . . stay any place long enough, and offenses come. Make deep enough connections and open your life up . . . there will be inevitable hurt. Relationships are messy. We live in a fallen world, with others equally as marred by sin as ourselves. Offenses will come.

The question is: what do we do when offenses come? And then more come? What if they come at an inconvenient time, when we are already dealing with something bigger than ourselves? What if they come in groups, not singly? What if our offenses are with those we trust to watch over our lives? What if our quarrels are with those whom usually speak hope and comfort? What then? What if the wound is to our spouse? Or to our child? What if the wound is in the name of love, but we don't agree with the judgment?

What do we do when we know we've been legitimately hurt, but the individual causing the pain won't admit wrong, won't apologize, and expects us to bear all of the blame? What if the one who hurt us is being promoted? How many offenses, or how many hurts have to happen before we're willing to walk away?

These are questions I've had to deal with as a Christian, either personally, or as one watching friends battle offense.

I don't have all the answers. But I do know I'm staying put where I am. Why? I thought you'd never ask.

1-Wherever there are people, there will be pain. Escaping to a different church when hurts pile up might be a quick fix, but stay long enough for relationships to be meaningful? And more offenses will come.  Why walk away from relationships it’s taken years to cultivate?

2-We learn by gathering our crop. Ultimately, we reap what we sow. We have to stay in a place long enough to gather our harvest. If we don't like our harvest, then it's time to plant new seed. If we never stay in a place long enough to see what our seed has produced, how will we ever know to change our planting?

3-It doesn't pay to run from God, or the dealings of God. Jonah was assigned to preach to his nation's enemy. He ran the other way and ended up smack dab in the belly of a whale. Running from God never ends well.

If you've been in church for any length of time, you've probably observed that a fair amount of people's offenses are with leadership. Often time, these offenses come because leaders have given feedback to a person. Not the warm, fuzzy kind. But the "I'm telling you this because I love you and you need to change" kind.

If you get this kind of feedback, trust me, it's the worst time to run. My pastor says this, "If a pastor expresses a concern about something, it's like the Holy Spirit yelling to get your attention." I have found this to be true.

It's also true that if you run, you're just setting yourself up to learn the lesson again someplace new.

4-True character is forged in the crucible of true relationships. True relationships (the kind where you can share anything and the friendship has made it past a fight and there's covenant) take time to grow and develop. God often uses these covenant relationships to change us the most. Staying put allows time for these friendships to be cultivated and grown.

5-The good is still good. No matter what offenses I may encounter, the things which I love about my church will always be true. The worship is great, the preaching is balanced and convicting, the leadership LOVES their flock, people are real, it's ok to not be perfect, and when we party, we party. Why in the world would I ever give up a great place because it requires me to forgive? And work on my stuff?

I believe that where we choose to go to church is almost as important as whom we marry.  And the commitment is one worthy of deep commitment and loyalty.

Hupomone is one of the Greek words translated "patience" in the Bible. It literally means "to stay under." Dr. Jim Cecy says, "Hupomone speaks of the ability to stay under something without buckling from the weight of it. It doesn't avoid painful circumstances; it learns through them. It never gives up. It is the mark of the truly mature believer."

I choose forgiveness, I choose hupomone, I choose to stay in the place God has planted me.