Posts
Well, I'll tell you the truth... I was a little nervous about the last few posts. It was nerve-racking putting myself out there like that on the internet. When I am in a small group setting or counseling someone I share some of these stories when it is appropriate. Not knowing who is reading it, what they believe, and how these stories affect them, I can tell you, it has caused me some anxiety... I appreciate everyone who has responded and certainly everyone who has sent a note of encouragement my way. I am loving writing. I have journals that go back to my fifth grade year. I need to write to get through things, and I know when I am not writing, I am stuck somewhere. I know most blogs are a little less serious, and those entries are coming. If you know me at all, you are probably a little surprised by my intensity in these blogs. But inside my head I am constantly processing and contemplating serious and meaningful things. They are overwhelming at times...which is why I write them down. They are my own personal deep thoughts, but if you want to read them, I will be happy to share them with you. Just call me Jack. :)
"I bet if you're a young mobster, and you are out on your first date... I bet it's pretty embarrassing if someone tries to kill you..." - Jack Handey
Saturday, February 28, 2009
Tuesday, February 24, 2009
The Rebirth of My Faith
For most of my life I felt different. I didn’t have much, my parents were young, we were dysfunctional… I felt like everyone else had it together and knew we didn’t. When I became a Christian, all these things were still true. The only difference was that I was a Christian
, and God was the only thing I had in common with these other people. For the most part I felt like others either looked down on me, or pitied me. However, some people along the way genuinely loved me and wanted to help me. I was given much and was told to remember it, because one day, I would be expected to give it back. That rang loud and true in my life. So working at the adoption agency was going to be the beginning of giving back… I thought my life would be an encouragement to them, that I could help them change their lives. That through my life they would see there was hope for their future, for their lives, through Christ. Little did I know, it was one of them, one of their lives, that would change my life forever.
I will go ahead and tell you this is very difficult for me to write. It is hard. It is a rough story, so if you are faint at heart, it will at the very least make you sad. So, here we go. I need to explain to you the nature of my old job. I was a crisis pregnancy counselor to young girls who were preparing to place their unborn child for adoption. I counseled them before hand, went through the paperwork they would sign, I worked with the attorney to prepare them, the doctors, the adoptive parents, any one involved… and the birthfather. I was involved in just about every aspect of the adoption, from beginning to end. It was incredible. God was ever present. Every detail of my day was laid out by Him. I saw and participated in some of the most incredible experiences you could imagine. Adoption is a beautiful physical picture of what God did for us as his heirs. That is a whole other blog. Really if you want to talk to me for hours, let’s talk about adoption.
On January 1, 1999 I walked in the door at my new job to about thirty active client cases. The first two I was involved with were the most difficult two in my entire career there. Because of the confidentiality of the profession I can not go into the details on this blog. There are so many sad sick facts that I learned. I will just say that I immediately learned to hate a stranger. It was a text book case of incest. The birthmother was a sweet preteen girl who was due in Feb. No one intervened until she became pregnant. Oh, I was just devastated hearing it. She delivered a healthy baby, and placed the child in the care of the agency. In the meantime, because I was the worker on the case I had to visit her father in prison get him to sign his paperwork relinquishing his rights as the parent to the baby/ grandbaby. It is so sad to type that… I drove the three hours to the prison. I pulled over once and had some sort of nausea-type anxiety attack… I was terrified. The notary was provided by the prison, so I was all alone preparing to meet this man, this child molester.
As many relatives as I had in one, I had never actually gone to visit a state penitentiary… I want to describe the scenery for those of you who have never had the pleasure of visiting one of our fine Alabama correctional institutions. So much of this was visual for me… It was your typical cinder-block grey lifeless building with guards posted at the front gate, which had barbed wire topping it. You had to practically get finger printed just to enter. So a guard escorted me and my very scared self to a locked “conference” room. It was NYPD Blue style, wired windows, cage in the corner. The furniture looked like stuff that old downtown offices would donate to the thrift store after they sold all their decent “going out of business” stuff at an auction. So I sat there alone for fifteen minutes. But it wasn’t quiet. Every time, a door opened somewhere an old school bell went off. It was not helping me settle down. Then the door started to open. In the front was a HUGE African American guard, who had “my prisoner” as he referred to him, by the arm. He was an average looking man with graying clean cut hair. He was wearing an orange prisoner’s jumper, nothing at all memorable. By his appearance he was not creepy, not noticeable, nothing that out in the real world would ever seem to indicate he was a child molester. He was shuffling back and forth towards the grey seat the had ready for him. He was chained at the feet, and couldn’t walk without noticeable constriction. His hands were chained together in front of him. The other guard went about the business of chaining him to the chair in front of me. The large guard reminded me of the big guy in the movie the Green Mile. The whole place reminds me of that movie. It felt like that movie. He said, “He is ready Mam, we will be right here if you need us”. It never occurred to me that they would stay. I felt like I was on stage. I was so nervous, disgusted, I really didn’t know what to say. I had to go over the contracts and the paperwork. He agreed to sign them, but stopped me first. He noticed the part that stated that the birth father was due counseling as well as the birthmother before placement. He said, he wanted to take advantage of his services. Stunned, I let him just talk.
Here is what he said… He talked about how alone he felt and isolated. He expressed that he was a God –fearing man, a believer. How he knew it was wrong and wished that he could have stopped. He minimized how much it hurt his daughter. Said it would all be over when the baby was gone. He marginalized his choice and said it was just as much his wife’s fault because she never stopped him. He was mad at his family for cutting him off. He said he was just a sinner and they should forgive him. He had a sickness and he needed help, not to be punished. He was totally rationalizing his sin. This most horrible sin. He was a victim. He really believed if he just “got right” he would be healed and he could minister to others and get his family back. Did you feel disgusted by that? I was horrified. He filled out his paperwork, and I got out of there.
But… Were you paying attention to my last blog? If you read it this all seemed familiar to you. Last time I wrote, “I let go of my faith and took back everything I had given to God. I justified my sin, minimized and marginalized it. I kept my secrets close. No one seemed to notice. I ached for God, for forgiveness, but I continued to bathe myself in sin.” Everything that came out of his mouth had been nearly verbatim what I would say to myself about my own sin. I had given myself over to sin and denied God, just as he.
I was in the parking lot outside of this prison when it hit me. I was him. I was no different than him. No! No! you say, you didn’t DO that. Well, I didn’t, but my heart was in the same condition as his. I was a victim of nothing more than my own flesh. I was beginning to be humbled. I realized that I wasn’t the least of all Christian’s, I was the Chief of all sinners. I was just the same as a child molester. Now, there is much theology behind that statement. I am not an articulate theologian and I shrivel in comparison to some of my good friends and their ability to recite the Shorter Catechisms, join FB groups dedicated to Spurgeon, or translate Greek and Hebrew. But you don’t have to understand anything more than this to understand what I have said. Sin is the common denominator among man, not good. We have all “sinned and fallen short of the Glory of God”. When I realized the depths of my sin, the comparable place I had in line next to the child molestor, I began to realize, that not only was I a hopeless sinner, I did not deserve the gift of my salvation… or to be rescued, or to be a child of the King. I was covered in filth. I was disgusted with this man, and sickened by his perversion, and then I realized that I was just like him. I was walking around in the world hiding my sin, hiding how bad I was, and in the darkness I let sin take over me. No one could tell. I looked just fine. “Oh what a wretched man I am!” I started the car, and the ‘journey’ on my three hours to home. As I drove, I was being transformed. My life was making sense. All of this hard stuff, it wasn’t less, it was more. I had been give MORE than I “could ever ask or imagine”. I had been blessed to a degree through these challenges that suddenly made my soul feel like it was bursting into a million pieces of gratitude. I was starting to really love the Lord, really understand my place as his child. He took me! He died for ME! I didn’t deserve it! He took my gross, dirty filthy rags to the cross with him. He was changing me, I did love him before, but I didn’t understand this. I did not understand grace. Grace is being given what you don’t deserve, and mercy is not being given what you do deserve. I did not understand how undeserving I was. I had been mad that life was not better or easier after I became a Christian.
I was not good enough for God. I was not good enough, and I didn’t have to be. Freedom in Christ, it was something I didn’t get. It made sense now. My love for God, my gratitude for his grace towards me began anew that day. I began to see others as God saw them. I developed a deeper compassion toward all people, especially my clients, than I could have ever mustered on a “good day”. I began to see through the holes of my condemning spirit. I was in no place to hold someone over the fire anymore, I was only able to now hold their hand and lead them to the forgiving, sacrificing God who truly loves them. Out of me poured His love. Gratitude became my motivator for service. Love for Him, truly became the foundation for peace in my life. This transformation was the beginning of a grace-centered faith.
I still wrestle with sin. I am still drawn to the darkness, but I don’t ever feel like I am hopeless or that life is hopeless. I know that next to me in the car that day the Holy Spirit talked me through every corner of my heart and reshaped my viewpoint on just about everything. It was miraculous.
, and God was the only thing I had in common with these other people. For the most part I felt like others either looked down on me, or pitied me. However, some people along the way genuinely loved me and wanted to help me. I was given much and was told to remember it, because one day, I would be expected to give it back. That rang loud and true in my life. So working at the adoption agency was going to be the beginning of giving back… I thought my life would be an encouragement to them, that I could help them change their lives. That through my life they would see there was hope for their future, for their lives, through Christ. Little did I know, it was one of them, one of their lives, that would change my life forever.I will go ahead and tell you this is very difficult for me to write. It is hard. It is a rough story, so if you are faint at heart, it will at the very least make you sad. So, here we go. I need to explain to you the nature of my old job. I was a crisis pregnancy counselor to young girls who were preparing to place their unborn child for adoption. I counseled them before hand, went through the paperwork they would sign, I worked with the attorney to prepare them, the doctors, the adoptive parents, any one involved… and the birthfather. I was involved in just about every aspect of the adoption, from beginning to end. It was incredible. God was ever present. Every detail of my day was laid out by Him. I saw and participated in some of the most incredible experiences you could imagine. Adoption is a beautiful physical picture of what God did for us as his heirs. That is a whole other blog. Really if you want to talk to me for hours, let’s talk about adoption.
On January 1, 1999 I walked in the door at my new job to about thirty active client cases. The first two I was involved with were the most difficult two in my entire career there. Because of the confidentiality of the profession I can not go into the details on this blog. There are so many sad sick facts that I learned. I will just say that I immediately learned to hate a stranger. It was a text book case of incest. The birthmother was a sweet preteen girl who was due in Feb. No one intervened until she became pregnant. Oh, I was just devastated hearing it. She delivered a healthy baby, and placed the child in the care of the agency. In the meantime, because I was the worker on the case I had to visit her father in prison get him to sign his paperwork relinquishing his rights as the parent to the baby/ grandbaby. It is so sad to type that… I drove the three hours to the prison. I pulled over once and had some sort of nausea-type anxiety attack… I was terrified. The notary was provided by the prison, so I was all alone preparing to meet this man, this child molester.
As many relatives as I had in one, I had never actually gone to visit a state penitentiary… I want to describe the scenery for those of you who have never had the pleasure of visiting one of our fine Alabama correctional institutions. So much of this was visual for me… It was your typical cinder-block grey lifeless building with guards posted at the front gate, which had barbed wire topping it. You had to practically get finger printed just to enter. So a guard escorted me and my very scared self to a locked “conference” room. It was NYPD Blue style, wired windows, cage in the corner. The furniture looked like stuff that old downtown offices would donate to the thrift store after they sold all their decent “going out of business” stuff at an auction. So I sat there alone for fifteen minutes. But it wasn’t quiet. Every time, a door opened somewhere an old school bell went off. It was not helping me settle down. Then the door started to open. In the front was a HUGE African American guard, who had “my prisoner” as he referred to him, by the arm. He was an average looking man with graying clean cut hair. He was wearing an orange prisoner’s jumper, nothing at all memorable. By his appearance he was not creepy, not noticeable, nothing that out in the real world would ever seem to indicate he was a child molester. He was shuffling back and forth towards the grey seat the had ready for him. He was chained at the feet, and couldn’t walk without noticeable constriction. His hands were chained together in front of him. The other guard went about the business of chaining him to the chair in front of me. The large guard reminded me of the big guy in the movie the Green Mile. The whole place reminds me of that movie. It felt like that movie. He said, “He is ready Mam, we will be right here if you need us”. It never occurred to me that they would stay. I felt like I was on stage. I was so nervous, disgusted, I really didn’t know what to say. I had to go over the contracts and the paperwork. He agreed to sign them, but stopped me first. He noticed the part that stated that the birth father was due counseling as well as the birthmother before placement. He said, he wanted to take advantage of his services. Stunned, I let him just talk.
Here is what he said… He talked about how alone he felt and isolated. He expressed that he was a God –fearing man, a believer. How he knew it was wrong and wished that he could have stopped. He minimized how much it hurt his daughter. Said it would all be over when the baby was gone. He marginalized his choice and said it was just as much his wife’s fault because she never stopped him. He was mad at his family for cutting him off. He said he was just a sinner and they should forgive him. He had a sickness and he needed help, not to be punished. He was totally rationalizing his sin. This most horrible sin. He was a victim. He really believed if he just “got right” he would be healed and he could minister to others and get his family back. Did you feel disgusted by that? I was horrified. He filled out his paperwork, and I got out of there.
But… Were you paying attention to my last blog? If you read it this all seemed familiar to you. Last time I wrote, “I let go of my faith and took back everything I had given to God. I justified my sin, minimized and marginalized it. I kept my secrets close. No one seemed to notice. I ached for God, for forgiveness, but I continued to bathe myself in sin.” Everything that came out of his mouth had been nearly verbatim what I would say to myself about my own sin. I had given myself over to sin and denied God, just as he.
I was in the parking lot outside of this prison when it hit me. I was him. I was no different than him. No! No! you say, you didn’t DO that. Well, I didn’t, but my heart was in the same condition as his. I was a victim of nothing more than my own flesh. I was beginning to be humbled. I realized that I wasn’t the least of all Christian’s, I was the Chief of all sinners. I was just the same as a child molester. Now, there is much theology behind that statement. I am not an articulate theologian and I shrivel in comparison to some of my good friends and their ability to recite the Shorter Catechisms, join FB groups dedicated to Spurgeon, or translate Greek and Hebrew. But you don’t have to understand anything more than this to understand what I have said. Sin is the common denominator among man, not good. We have all “sinned and fallen short of the Glory of God”. When I realized the depths of my sin, the comparable place I had in line next to the child molestor, I began to realize, that not only was I a hopeless sinner, I did not deserve the gift of my salvation… or to be rescued, or to be a child of the King. I was covered in filth. I was disgusted with this man, and sickened by his perversion, and then I realized that I was just like him. I was walking around in the world hiding my sin, hiding how bad I was, and in the darkness I let sin take over me. No one could tell. I looked just fine. “Oh what a wretched man I am!” I started the car, and the ‘journey’ on my three hours to home. As I drove, I was being transformed. My life was making sense. All of this hard stuff, it wasn’t less, it was more. I had been give MORE than I “could ever ask or imagine”. I had been blessed to a degree through these challenges that suddenly made my soul feel like it was bursting into a million pieces of gratitude. I was starting to really love the Lord, really understand my place as his child. He took me! He died for ME! I didn’t deserve it! He took my gross, dirty filthy rags to the cross with him. He was changing me, I did love him before, but I didn’t understand this. I did not understand grace. Grace is being given what you don’t deserve, and mercy is not being given what you do deserve. I did not understand how undeserving I was. I had been mad that life was not better or easier after I became a Christian.
I was not good enough for God. I was not good enough, and I didn’t have to be. Freedom in Christ, it was something I didn’t get. It made sense now. My love for God, my gratitude for his grace towards me began anew that day. I began to see others as God saw them. I developed a deeper compassion toward all people, especially my clients, than I could have ever mustered on a “good day”. I began to see through the holes of my condemning spirit. I was in no place to hold someone over the fire anymore, I was only able to now hold their hand and lead them to the forgiving, sacrificing God who truly loves them. Out of me poured His love. Gratitude became my motivator for service. Love for Him, truly became the foundation for peace in my life. This transformation was the beginning of a grace-centered faith.
I still wrestle with sin. I am still drawn to the darkness, but I don’t ever feel like I am hopeless or that life is hopeless. I know that next to me in the car that day the Holy Spirit talked me through every corner of my heart and reshaped my viewpoint on just about everything. It was miraculous.
Sunday, February 22, 2009
The Crash of 1998
It was December, just after school let out for the holidays. I was packing up the free 2000 sq foot house we had at the boarding school to move to a two bedroom apartment. I was leaving a job that provided for our every need. I hadn't told my boss yet. I was running away. I couldn't believe I was giving all of that up for something, anything else. I thought it was the job that was the problem, the people. I thought it was my circumstance that was causing this deep depression I had been in for nearly a year. I thought I needed a change. I had not been outside of the house much for nearly a month. We had not eaten on campus in two months in spite of the fact that we had free meals in the dining hall. I hid from the students that I was working with. I certainly avoided the other staff. I was so unhappy, and I could not stay there one more minute.
Why was I so unhappy? Well for nearly two years I had been keeping a grueling schedule. I got this job the semester before I graduated with my masters. I had to work at my internship at Montevallo during the day, and then all night at the school. I was the Residential Counselor, which meant I lived on campus and worked out of my house. Traditionally, the kids had access to the whole house and to the counselor any time. I came to change things, and to impart all of my new found graduate school wisdom, into this traditionally un-programmed job. I never had a job description, so I just did what I felt was best at the time, however, the expectations that were placed on me were overwhelming. I partnered with someone who had no respect for me, who worked against me. I felt alone and unsupported. I really didn't understand territorialism. It did not fit into my paradigm. I was twenty three years young and still pretty immature about the ways of the world. I was also a proud "right wing conservative" and extremely naive' about the world. Let me tell you, not many conservatives survied in this liberal quicksand. At the time, I didn't know much about the ACLU, but I did know I was one of the few staff members that did not "carry their card"... My dream job turned out to be less dreamy than I had hoped for.
So, What did I do? For a while I threw myself into the job, the kids. I was up till three and up again at 7:00 with them. It was so imbalanced. I have not mentioned this before, but at this time we began to take on the task of raising my little brother who was just starting high school. He moved in with us at the height of my depression. My marriage was young, and I was totally distracted. Neither Chad nor I realized the deep impact this was going to have on us both before it was over. Chad told me later that we didn't share our "marriage bed" for somewhere around four to six months. He lost count... I wasn't counting. I was so distracted and depressed it didn't even occur to me, and I was genuinely shocked when he told me later. I had turned inside myself and wasn't coming out. Not for ANYONE. Sorry, I hope this is not too much reality for you...
So, I mentioned in my earlier post that I loved sin. I didn't mention which sins exactly. There are so many different ways in which I sin. I am no ordinary sinner. Forgive me for thinking I am original in my depravity, but I just don't want to get into it. In many ways I reverted back to my "old nature". I was a Christian, but this was my view of sin. Good Christians do good. Bad Christians do bad. Doing good = good Christian. Sin = failure. I was so drawn to the darkness... the depression consumed me. I let go of my faith and took back everything I had given to God. I justified my sin, minimized and marginalized it. I kept my secrets close. No one seemed to notice. I ached for God, for forgiveness, but I continued to bathe myself in sin. There was an intense wrestling match going on inside of me between my flesh and the Spirit. I was so clueless. I didn't know why I was doing these things... making these choices. I was defeated. I wanted to feel "good" again. I wanted out of this situation. I could never go back to being a good Christian while I was in this place, thus the immediacy of my resignation. I was convinced that if I ran away from the the "bad" and ran toward the Lord, I would find my way back to being good.
So, I made it happen. In two weeks I had a new job at a Christian adoption agency, as a counselor to young girls who were in a crisis pregnancy and considering adoption for their child. This was something I could seriously wrap my heart around. Life was going to get better. I was going to get better.... Little did I know the depravity of my soul was about to stare back at me, look into my eyes and speak to me... God was getting ready to call me out. He was about to do something totally dramatic in my life. To this day, I get chills when I think about that exact moment when I got it. It was real and powerful, and freeing. My thoughts about myself were about to be challenged in every way. My identity. My position in Christ. My view of people. My view of sin. Redemption. Everything I had been taught thus far, was about to be reshaped, purged, and purified. I can see the hands of the Potter on my soul with my heart on his wheel, turning me and shaping me, molding me into a humbled, perfectly broken vessel of His.
Next time I will tell you about that time I referred to when I wrote this preview in an older post:
Get READY. I am about to tell you the about the most meaningful experience I have ever had. How I became the person that I am at this moment in time, and the event that has shaped my faith in a way that no other event has before or since. My defining moment so to speak. The day that I went from a works centered performance based Christian, to a deeply humbled follower of Christ changed forever by His grace and mercy.
So next time I will tell you the hardest part of the story. It will conclude this series of seriousness. And oh, please give me some feedback. I feel kind of vulnerable here...
Why was I so unhappy? Well for nearly two years I had been keeping a grueling schedule. I got this job the semester before I graduated with my masters. I had to work at my internship at Montevallo during the day, and then all night at the school. I was the Residential Counselor, which meant I lived on campus and worked out of my house. Traditionally, the kids had access to the whole house and to the counselor any time. I came to change things, and to impart all of my new found graduate school wisdom, into this traditionally un-programmed job. I never had a job description, so I just did what I felt was best at the time, however, the expectations that were placed on me were overwhelming. I partnered with someone who had no respect for me, who worked against me. I felt alone and unsupported. I really didn't understand territorialism. It did not fit into my paradigm. I was twenty three years young and still pretty immature about the ways of the world. I was also a proud "right wing conservative" and extremely naive' about the world. Let me tell you, not many conservatives survied in this liberal quicksand. At the time, I didn't know much about the ACLU, but I did know I was one of the few staff members that did not "carry their card"... My dream job turned out to be less dreamy than I had hoped for.
So, What did I do? For a while I threw myself into the job, the kids. I was up till three and up again at 7:00 with them. It was so imbalanced. I have not mentioned this before, but at this time we began to take on the task of raising my little brother who was just starting high school. He moved in with us at the height of my depression. My marriage was young, and I was totally distracted. Neither Chad nor I realized the deep impact this was going to have on us both before it was over. Chad told me later that we didn't share our "marriage bed" for somewhere around four to six months. He lost count... I wasn't counting. I was so distracted and depressed it didn't even occur to me, and I was genuinely shocked when he told me later. I had turned inside myself and wasn't coming out. Not for ANYONE. Sorry, I hope this is not too much reality for you...
So, I mentioned in my earlier post that I loved sin. I didn't mention which sins exactly. There are so many different ways in which I sin. I am no ordinary sinner. Forgive me for thinking I am original in my depravity, but I just don't want to get into it. In many ways I reverted back to my "old nature". I was a Christian, but this was my view of sin. Good Christians do good. Bad Christians do bad. Doing good = good Christian. Sin = failure. I was so drawn to the darkness... the depression consumed me. I let go of my faith and took back everything I had given to God. I justified my sin, minimized and marginalized it. I kept my secrets close. No one seemed to notice. I ached for God, for forgiveness, but I continued to bathe myself in sin. There was an intense wrestling match going on inside of me between my flesh and the Spirit. I was so clueless. I didn't know why I was doing these things... making these choices. I was defeated. I wanted to feel "good" again. I wanted out of this situation. I could never go back to being a good Christian while I was in this place, thus the immediacy of my resignation. I was convinced that if I ran away from the the "bad" and ran toward the Lord, I would find my way back to being good.
So, I made it happen. In two weeks I had a new job at a Christian adoption agency, as a counselor to young girls who were in a crisis pregnancy and considering adoption for their child. This was something I could seriously wrap my heart around. Life was going to get better. I was going to get better.... Little did I know the depravity of my soul was about to stare back at me, look into my eyes and speak to me... God was getting ready to call me out. He was about to do something totally dramatic in my life. To this day, I get chills when I think about that exact moment when I got it. It was real and powerful, and freeing. My thoughts about myself were about to be challenged in every way. My identity. My position in Christ. My view of people. My view of sin. Redemption. Everything I had been taught thus far, was about to be reshaped, purged, and purified. I can see the hands of the Potter on my soul with my heart on his wheel, turning me and shaping me, molding me into a humbled, perfectly broken vessel of His.
Next time I will tell you about that time I referred to when I wrote this preview in an older post:
Get READY. I am about to tell you the about the most meaningful experience I have ever had. How I became the person that I am at this moment in time, and the event that has shaped my faith in a way that no other event has before or since. My defining moment so to speak. The day that I went from a works centered performance based Christian, to a deeply humbled follower of Christ changed forever by His grace and mercy.
So next time I will tell you the hardest part of the story. It will conclude this series of seriousness. And oh, please give me some feedback. I feel kind of vulnerable here...
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