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Simple question. You come across the tiger in the picture above. Obviously wounded. What would you do? Would you approach him? No? Why not? He’s wounded badly. He’s in a weakened state. And yet, he’s as wild, dangerous and deadly as he will ever be. And this much is obvious to you.
That’s the truth about being wounded.
We have grown to see wounds as black marks. As weakness. As not being worthy, or simply just not being OK. But in reality, what you see in nature, is that wounded animals don’t act weak and helpless. They are desperate and dangerous. Wild eyed, focused and clawing for life. They are more powerful than when healthy. More intimidating. More fierce.
I have wounds. So do you. And for most of my life, they have made me feel weak and less than. And like most Christians, I’ve gotten very good at suppressing them, at masking them, at insulating myself. Medicating myself. Calling upon idols and endless distractions. Comforts of everyday life. Numbing myself. After all, I couldn’t possibly embrace those wounds and speak through them. Become desperate and dangerous with my faith. Could I?
I was reading a passage tonight from Jeremiah 37:10. It says, “For though you had defeated the whole army of the Chaldeans who fight against you, and there remained only wounded men among them, they would rise up, every man in his tent, and burn the city with fire.”
I’m not a Bible scholar. So, to be honest, I can’t perfectly provide the context of this verse and the historical setting that surrounded it. But set all that aside and just read the passage. Look at the word “only” being used in italics for emphasis. A group of “only” wounded men, predicted to possess the power to burn an entire city with fire. Desperate and dangerous.
I haven’t written on this blog in over a year. Shameful. But that doesn’t mean I haven’t been wrestling with lots of things. The fact of the matter, though, is I’ve been wounded. And instead of leaning into that, using it, fueling the desperation in a positive way, I’ve just medicated. Numbed myself. Compensated instead of challenged. Been a wimp instead of a warrior. Dead instead of dangerous.
I have a rekindled fire. I want to use my brokenness. My wounds. In powerful ways. The first of many being to show other people they are not alone. And that being wounded is not a sign of weakness. It’s a powerful piece of wisdom that can be used in brave, beautiful ways. I keep hearing the words, “You are not alone” rattling around in my head. I think it’s partly for me, and partly for me to say to others. So, I hope to find opportunities to do just that.
BUT, for starters. If you are out there reading this. And you’re either numbed up and feeling nothing, or very vulnerable and raw and feeling a wound that cuts deep. Let me say this. You are not alone. No matter what you have said, thought, felt or done. You are not alone. And neither am I.
Compassion. It’s a word I’ve been using lately. Misusing actually. I’ve been using it as a straight substitution for sympathy and empathy. A passive but heartfelt, “Oh, no I’m so sorry” attitude. I saw the word in writing last week, when it hit me.
Com [Passion]
PASSION is such a big part of that word. And passion is not a concept that you’d describe as being passive. It’s active and deep and positively aggressive. I’m seeing compassion in such a different way. Compassion requires you to empty yourself in order to fix the problem at hand. Not just feel bad about it or say that you can relate.
In this world, we are trained to have no compassion. To guard and protect our hearts. To look out for number one. When I was living in a big city, my co-workers and friends taught me how to march right through the homeless. It was an acquired skill. You never stop or even slow down. You definitely never, ever make eye contact. Don’t say “Sorry, not today.” Act as if they are not there. Just focus on the street ahead and walk with purpose. How horrible is that!
But that’s how a lot of us approach any conflict or pain that doesn’t squarely affect and involve us. We try to march through it. Pretend it’s not there as we power through. After all, we have our own stuff to deal with, so we can’t really spare what it would take to make an investment anyway. And it’s always so messy, uncomfortable and inconvenient to really go there.
So, we don’t proactively look for it. Sometimes, we work around it and ignore its very presence, even when it is standing there tattered and torn reaching out to us, asking loudly for help.
On a recent trip to DC, I was compelled to shake off everything they taught me in the big city. On a stroll from the office to my hotel, I probably encountered 20 homeless people. I slowed down and talked to every one of them. I gave money while it lasted, although I didn’t have much cash. I told the others I was sorry that I couldn’t help today. It was a small way for me to commit to myself that I would start looking for others who might be hurting. Not in a, “So sorry to hear it” kind of way. But in a genuine, “I want to help you if I can” sort of way.
I just realized what I’m trying to practice is com[passion]. I definitely don’t have it mastered. I have lots of previous training to undo. But I’m quickly understanding from God that the fastest way to heal myself is to devote myself to helping heal others whenever possible. So, that’s what I’m trying to do. And likely what my next professional endeavor is about at some level. Still looking for clarity on that front!
“Christ comes to restore and release you, your soul, the true you.” – Wild at Heart
My wife texted me this quote yesterday. It wasn’t the first time in the past week that I had been approached with thoughts about restoration, release, of being who I really am. What a great quote, though. We are free in Christ to be the actual creature He created. To be our TRUE self. The problem is we usually don’t take advantage.
I’ve spent a great deal of time professionally counseling companies on how to create a brand for themselves or a product or service. How to message and portray the “essence” of what they are selling. How they want others to think and feel about it. It’s all about image. Perception is reality. We’re all consumers, so this idea of a “brand” is not a foreign concept. As you walk down the aisles of any store, you see the packages lined up with their own distinct messages and colors and designs and shapes. They each have their own presence and personality. They all are projecting an image that they hope will make you buy them.
I do that in my everyday life. And I bet I’m not alone. I create a brand to project to the world around me. It’s partly who I am, but in many ways it’s far different. There’s an entire persona that I have to work hard to keep in tact that speaks to success in my career, my personality, my moral compass, my family life, my talents. An image that requires daily maintenance, and at the same time smothers the real me. The true me. That doesn’t afford for me to be human and to be okay with my flaws and confident in my own skin. That doesn’t allow me to show the world how I’m broken and how God is working in me. The true me.
There are two major problems with creating a brand to represent my being. First, a brand is an attempt to express something you are striving to be. It takes liberties with reality, glosses over flaws. You can easily lose yourself, who you truly are, in trying to keep up with the brand that you are putting out on the shelf.
The second problem is that I don’t fully control my brand. One of the basic tenets of brand management is that a brand is ultimately shaped and defined by the people you share it with. In the end, your brand is not what YOU say it is. It’s what others perceive you to be. So, now, in addition to altering my true being to project a different image, I’m also being subjected to labels and expectations by the outside world. And quickly, I can become really confused and insecure about who I really am.
I guess there’s actually a third problem with a brand. It doesn’t take long for your consumers to figure out that you don’t have it all together anyway. I mean, how many times have you bought a product based on the “brand promise” only to be disappointed in its performance? Happens all the time with products, and with people. Just because you smile big and put on your “Sunday best” doesn’t mean everyone is buying it. There’s no way to live up to the image, to deliver on the promise, leaving me deflated and defeated.
I want to be the true me. I want to replace my brand with my being. I want to live a transparent life and to have God work through it. While it would be a difficult, scary and taxing thing to do, I can just imagine how liberating it would feel and how powerful it would be in fulfilling God’s plan for me.
So my prayer is that I’ll allow Christ to restore and release me, my soul, the true me.
What a week!
Less than 7 days ago, I was told my job might not be my job for long. I won’t bore you with the corporate blah blah. Let’s just say that it’s like one of those medical diagnoses where the docs can’t tell you exactly how long you have, but they can tell you the end is near. And there is no cure.
This is funny in a way. Just a few weeks ago, my wife and I had a talk at the kitchen table where I posed the question: “If this job starts to overtake my work/life balance, what should we do?” Looks like that’s a question God doesn’t need me to answer on my own.
I took this job, as you might recall, less than a year ago. It was a step of faith. I was leaving a job where I’d been gainfully employed for 8 years. And while nothing is guaranteed in corporate America, this was a safe job for the most part. It was not where I needed to be, but it was safe. So, I stepped out. And at the time, I understood that the job I was taking wasn’t necessarily what God had for me. It could very well be a stepping stone. The thing that uprooted me from my comfort and forced me to trust Him.
And here I am.
In the meantime, I’ve wrestled with a lot of things, questioned whether my heart was in the right place. As I’ve talked about before, I was placing so much emphasis on things that expire instead of things that are eternal. It was all about the kids having their swing set in the backyard, the house, the car note, the “success” in my career, the security, safety and “peace” of a stable income. Never mind what I was feeling on the inside, how I was being convicted.
On Sunday, I stumbled upon a 365 devotion book that one of my kids had received as a present. It had never been opened. It just went straight to the bookshelf. I turned to the first page, and read, “Are you ready for the adventure? Are you ready to do things ‘my’ way this year?” It went on to say that there was so much waiting for me, that I had no idea. Was I ready for the call?
An hour later, I was in a church service where the pastor absolutely destroyed me. I’ve never cried in church. Ever. EVER. But there I was, weeping, as every word was a cut that sliced me to the core. The main passage of scripture was from Luke 9:24 where it says, “For whoever desires to save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for My sake will save it. For what advantage is it to a man if he gains the whole world, and is himself destroyed or lost?”
Just a verse earlier, Jesus says, “If anyone desires to come after Me, let him deny himself, and take up his cross daily and follow Me.”
My career is built around my desire to “save my life” to create safety and security for my family. To be all snuggled in and feel like we’re provided for and that all is well. I still believe I have a God-ordained responsibility to care for my family. And I’m torn as I write this because I want to follow God, and I want to answer His call. At the same time, I don’t want my kids to ever “want” for anything. And that type of mentality is exactly what will pigeonhole me right back into the life I was leading, where everything was fine as long as we had enough money in the bank and the ability to do what we wanted when we wanted to do it.
Following that church service, I told my wife over lunch that I felt like God was calling me to ministry. And in a full time capacity. What ministry means exactly is sort of a mystery right now. Church leadership? Non-profit? Cause based organization? But I’m trying to be faithful and follow through. Meanwhile, my job hangs in the balance and our “financial security” is tenuously dangling in the breeze. At the very least, a shift in my career to be service oriented would mean a dramatic decrease in pay. What else it would require is still to be understood.
So, I’m talking to people I trust and respect. Seeking counsel. Praying. And praying some more. What a week…
On my way to a meeting today, I prayed. I asked God that He would give me the ability to NOT let my job take over the rest of my life. After a brief time of balance and perspective, I can feel myself slipping back into the trap of letting work dictate my mood, good or bad. Of allowing my performance at work to be a leading indicator of my worth. Of blurring the balance between work and life because I’m so concerned about stability and security. So, I prayed that God would help me keep it in perspective and that He would help me better understand how I was feeling lately and what I could do about it.
Less than 10 minutes later, I drove by a billboard on the side of the interstate promoting the Shriner’s Circus. The word CIRCUS was in big, bold letters and took up 80 percent of the sign. Now, to understand why I would view this as being significant, you need to press pause on this post and read a separate post that I wrote a little over two years ago about finding your circus.
Finding my circus is something I was actively meditating on for a while. But I let that focus slip away. It was just so frustrating. Trying to imagine what God’s plan for me really is. Particularly when it its my career, my financial livelihood, part of how I identify myself. I enjoy the line of work I’m in, for the most part. And most days, I’m happy with my current job. But deep down, God keeps reminding me that I haven’t found my circus yet. That I’m still getting distracted by the zoo.
There’s more to it than I’ve uncovered. Maybe it has nothing to do with my job. Maybe God just wants me to accept that my job is the zoo and will never be a circus at all. Or maybe there’s a circus out there that can fulfill my purpose while providing for my family. For now, I remain open go God’s voice in all that. And will continue to keep my eyes open.
I was in church last week – small miracle – and was really amped up to be there. Only two songs in, I got really distracted. The worship team was belting out a song that went something like this: “You are so good, you are good, there is nothing good in me…”
Geez. Nothing good in me? No redeeming qualities whatsoever? Wow. Now, I’m motivated.
Luckily for me, the pastor delivered a sermon that seemed to contradict that lyric, bringing me back into focus. He started with a passage, Romans 7:17, which says, “But now it is no longer I who do it, but sin that dwells in me. For I know that in me (that is, my flesh) nothing good dwells…” Hmmm. The clarifying statement, “that is, my flesh” suggests to me that we aren’t necessarily void of goodness. Otherwise, why clarify? If you read further, it says talks about walking according to the spirit versus the flesh. The spirit, even though it is of God, is within us, battling it out with the flesh.
I personally think it is very dangerous to believe there is nothing good in us. I don’t care how many times I read the word wretched in the Bible, I don’t like it! I’m not being holier than thou with a remark like that. I’m not suggesting I don’t need God, that I don’t need salvation. I simply replace the word wretched with the word wrecked.
Yes, I’m a mess. But I am not void of goodness. I was made in God’s image, right? Once upon a time anyway. I’ve written about this before, but it is something I spend a lot of time pondering. In the spirit, we can do good, be good. Of course it is powered by God. But it is God opening something that exists inside us.
Otherwise, we would have no innate desire to follow Him, to be in relationship with Him, to yearn for Him. We are weak. For sure. We are wrecked. At least I am. But wretched? I just think that’s a strong and unnecessary word. Is my argument theologically based? I have no idea. After all, wretch is a fairly common descriptor throughout the Bible. This is simply my point of view.
Yes, I also fully appreciate that sin is deep within me. I just refuse to have it define me. I believe that God sees potential within me.
I was preparing to write this post several days ago. But my schedule got the best of me. The first day I started working on it, I had to drive to the airport for a business trip. On the way, I heard a song by Depeche Mode called Policy of Truth. It had been about a decade since I had heard it. There is a line in the song that says, “Never before is what you swore, the time before.”
Near the end of the song, that refrain is repeated about a thousand times. After multiple rounds I was like, ok ok ok ok. I get it. I have been walking according to the flesh. I’ve been falling back into old patterns, despite my rhetoric. Not really making a great case for there being good in me.
The passage in Romans said that sin dwells in us. That is an important description. Dwells. It’s not a weekend guest or an occassional visitor. It dwells. It lurks beneath the surface. It has taken hold. It occupies space. But it dwells “within us” which means it doesn’t define us. We have the ability to rise above it and to walk according to the spirit.
And we can’t do that without God, obviously. And without His mercy and grace, we would continue to be wrecked and really make a disaster out of our existence. But I will continue to protest the notion that nothing good can come of this. That we are wretched with no redeeming qualities. Right or wrong. For better or for worse. Good, bad or ugly. We could not be “redeemed” if there was nothing to “redeem.”
As I climbed into my car, on the last day of a job I’ve held for 8 years, the radio jolted me. I had cranked it up on the way in this morning, jamming out so I could enter the office with some positive energy and not be sad about leaving or scared about going. After I adjusted the volume, I laughed. The song on the radio was by Michelle Branch. It’s called, “Are you happy now?”
I took it as a not so subtle reminder from God that it doesn’t really matter if I’m in my old job, my new job or yet another new job. My old house. My current house. A different house. On a beach. On a mountain. If I turn to the wrong source for my happiness, I’ll be left unsatisfied.
All along the way, the decision to take a new job was frightening for me. You are probably tired of reading about it at this point. And while I continue to believe that it will strengthen my faith by requiring me to trust God more, I think I’ve been putting too much emphasis on it in terms of how much it actually changes me. Of course it changes a lot in terms of my daily life. But it’s still a job. It is intended to pay the bills. It should not define me, or prevent me from being in relationship with God or investing in my family and friends. It has literally no impact on my happiness and my peace. The source for that remains the same.
When I got home, I spent some time with my wife and kids, and then I picked up The Naked Now by Richard Rohr. I’ve quoted this book before, but I had all but forgotten about it after it was buried beneath mail and magazines on our kitchen counter. I picked up where I left off many months ago, and wouldn’t you know it, the first two pages I read were focused on “change.” Rohr states that as individuals, and even as churches, we usually ignore things that require actual change of our lifestyle, security system or dualistic thought patterns and instead we emphasis intellectual beliefs and moral superiority stances that ask little of us. Rohr suggests that we naturally divert our attention from anything that “would ask you to change, to righteous causes that invariably ask others to change.”
I take all that to mean that one of my favorite, old-school, hip hop groups was right when they said, “You need to check yo self before you wreck yo self.” Who knew that they were laying down some philosophy at the same time they were calling for us all to shake our rumps?
Too often, I get caught up in addressing the superficial in my life. Moving furniture around. Determining better ways to pay bills. Trying to keep my backyard green. Trying to be successful at the office. Trying to find the perfect job. And I let changes in these areas, big and small, take precedence over spiritual concerns. Over the last month, I’ve been 110 percent consumed with the new job and all the emotions I described previously. It’s been unhealthy for my family time and even more so my spiritual walk. At the end of the day, I truly believe that God finds my place of employment largely irrelevant in terms of His relationship with me. I could change jobs a thousand times in a year, and God would have the same expectations and desires for my heart.
I’m in for a big year of change professionally. My new gig couldn’t be more different from my old one. But I’m more excited about the changes I expect to experience internally. Getting serious again about asking God what He has for me. The real change He wants for me that will lead to change in others.
When God says to me (or maybe sings to me, I don’t know): “Look me in the eyes, and tell me are you happy now?” I want to have a good answer for that.
Here’s a simple experiment for those of you with small children. If you have older children, drift back to that time in your life when sleep was not an option. No children? Borrow a toddler for a few days. Or just trust that I know what I’m talking about.
Here’s the deal. First, take your small fries to a daycare or a church nursery. Drop them off. Come back and get them, and watch what happens now that it is time to leave. Do they whine and cry about taking the toys with them? Do they roll around on the ground and throw a fit at the thought of leaving empty-handed? What usually happens is they are so excited to see you that they run to the front door and can’t wait to get scooped up by mom or dad.
Now, head on over to Toys R Us. Take your children down a few aisles. Let them play around with some of the items on the shelves. Now, try to leave without purchasing something and watch what happens. Is it the same as the daycare? Which, by the way, probably had a lot of the same toys sitting around. Nope. What usually happens is your children plead and beg and cry and tug at your shirt. Desperate. They’ll do anything, say anything. Just please, please, please buy something, ANYTHING.
What’s the difference? It’s quite simple. And you probably don’t need me to tell you what’s going on, now do you?
At the daycare, the child has figured out that the toys stay right where they are. They’ve come to expect that they are leaving without them. The toys can help pass the time till they get picked up, but they aren’t a lasting possession. So, it isn’t a big deal. When the parents get there, the kid is just glad to make a break for it.
But at the toy store, it’s a different story. Your child has learned that there is a decent chance to walk away from that place with a surprise or two, and they probably have figured out the most effective techniques for squeezing a few bucks out of your wallet. The expected outcome is that something is going home with them. They are playing for keeps.
In 1 Timothy, it clearly states that we come into this world with nothing, and it is certain that we won’t carry anything out either. It’s a daycare kind of deal. But I for one repeatedly approach life like a trip to Toys R Us. Struggling, stressing, scratching and clawing for stuff (ranging from toys, to status, to security) like I fully expect to carry it out with me. It’s so easy to let the toys define me. The stuff, the status, the accomplishments.
1 Timothy cautions against trusting in uncertain riches or leaning on knowledge at the expense of faith. In chapter 6, verses 4-5 it suggests this will result in envy, strife, reviling and evil suspicions. “Useless wranglings of men of corrupt minds and destitute of the truth, who suppose that godliness is a means of gain.”
I many times place my faith in the security of stuff. As well as the comfort of knowledge. And when I do that, I’m really saying I trust myself more than God. What I’m really saying is that I value the toys more than my father coming back for me.
Question: How would your life and your faith be different if you treated stuff as if you were in a daycare instead of a toy store? I’m pondering this question as well this week.
The first 18 verses of 1 Timothy set up a storyline that has helped me keep my focus amidst adversity, both of my own making as well as external forces. Here are the highlights:
The purpose of His commandment is love, “from a pure heart, from a good conscience, and from sincere faith.”
When I stray from that, I “have turned aside to idle talk…understanding neither what (I) say nor the things (I) affirm.”
The Lord has “enabled me” and has “counted me faithful, putting me into the ministry.”
Although I was formerly a “blasphemer, a persecutor, an insolent man.”
His grace was “exceedingly abundant.”
That He might “show all long-suffering , as a pattern to those who are going to believe on Him.”
That last part is what I’d like to focus on for a moment. Long-suffering simply means: patiently enduring wrongs and difficulties. I take this both to mean my ongoing failures in my pursuit of God as well as the obstacles, trials and challenges the world hurls my way. Patient endurance.
It’s not enough to simply endure, to take my lumps while I flail about or lash out. I need to have patience as well. Patience suggests that I won’t get rattled or thrown off my game regardless of what I encounter. That I will be calm, cool, collected. That I won’t react rashly to situations. That I won’t over-exert myself to combat the world around me. Slow, deliberate, measured, consistent, even. Those are the descriptors I associate with patience. Endurance is the physical will to continue. Patience describes the mental state and attitude required for success.
Three things about this passage comfort me greatly. The first is that He has found me faithful and thus will enable me. He will equip me with the strength and skills required for what He asks of me. Secondly, He’s more than capable of doing it. In fact, He’s “exceedingly” capable of doing it. Lastly, He is clear about what I should expect: long-suffering.
You could look at that and be really pessimistic. Gee thanks. Long-suffering sounds like a ton-o-fun. You could internalize it only for how it sounds. Long. Suffering. Like when I had to watch Gone with the Wind, remastered for the big screen. With apologies to Clark Gable, Vivien Leigh and the vast majority of humans everywhere, “Frankly, my dear, I don’t give a damn.” Most painful time I’ve spent in pursuit of entertainment. It felt like I was trapped in that seat for 48 hours straight.
But I don’t look at it like that. When I look at it, it feels just like life. Everything meaningful you achieve here on Earth requires the proverbial blood, sweat and tears. You have to earn it. There is sacrifice. Pain. Commitment is required. Dare I say patient endurance? So why wouldn’t the same be true for pursuing God’s will? And since the payoff is far greater than anything to be achieved in this world, shouldn’t it require long-suffering at a different level?
Embracing that is powerful, because then the challenges just seem like hurdles that you get better and better at clearing. It’s like the burn you feel when doing sit ups or stretching yourself to run one more mile. Embracing my definition of long-suffering also takes away the pressure of perfection, because it suggests that you will consistently fall down, slide backwards, veer off course. It won’t be a straight line from here to there. And that’s okay. The point is that you have to methodically maintain your motivation and your momentum. Patiently endure.
I’ve found great comfort in that fact lately. I have been tripping up a lot. It’s like I’m so close, yet still so far away. But as I remind myself that God is currently “enabling me” and that long-suffering is just an expected part of the pattern, it’s enough for me to avoid being gone with the wind and instead get my second wind. To suffer long and endure patiently. With a better attitude than I had in that movie theatre. And a better outcome in The End.
the way to (t)here 
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