They Will Know We Are Christians By Our Love?

"Cross Lighting"

A few years ago, Laurel and I got the Victrola that had been in my Great-grandmother’s house when I was a boy growing up.  It’s a beautiful piece of furniture, still looks really good, but unfortunately, the turntable doesn’t quite work how it should.  We have a wealth of 78 RPM records in the base of it, but sadly, really can’t play them.

The one day, I got a text from Laurel, half joking, but really half not, and it said, “what’s the deal with your family?”  I looked at the text, and much to my surprise, I saw this:

Now, I’ll be abundantly clear, I never experienced any type of blatant or overt racism in my own home growing up, my parents never allowed that to enter in, but as I’ve noted before, I got a whole world of it growing up in western Pennsylvania, particularly from my great uncles.  They both fought in World War II, so their hatred spanned most ethnic groups, particularly the ones they fought against in the war.  But they also used racial slurs quite commonly and derisively. 

As far as the record, I have no idea if either of my great grandparents were in the Klan, but the fact that they owned this record is really disturbing.  I know many of us from my era have grown up and been exposed regularly to racism, but knowing it was a part of my heritage, even more than maybe others, was a difficult message to receive.

As I looked at this record, what really struck me as it does anytime I see images of the American Ku Klux Klan, is the burning cross.   I could never understand how that plays into what the KKK stands for and does.  Then I read up on the heritage and their use of the burning cross.  The KKK used it quite extensively as a form of intimidation and terrorization for Blacks, but they characterized it as “cross lighting” and insist it symbolizes their faith in Jesus Christ.

"Gott mit Uns"

I remember years ago, Sandy McConnel, one of the greatest pastors I know, gave a sermon and talked about how the Nazi soldiers in World War II had belt buckles that had the saying “Gott mit Uns” or “God with us”.  This was a tradition that was handed down for generations within the German armies, but in modern day, we view the Nazi’s as so evil, but they viewed it as they were doing “God’s work”.  I’m sure they viewed it, as they exterminated some six million Jews, or 2/3 of the European Jewish population, that they were doing “God’s work”. 

Throughout history, we have seen this played out.  Various people, organizations or countries try to use the cross or Bible to justify whatever motives they have.  The cross is our excuse to perpetrate evil.  The Bible is our weapon of choice to beat people down.  The cross is used to execute those who don’t look or act like us.

“The Bible is not a prop.  A church is not a photo op.  Religion is not a political tool.  God is not your plaything” The Reverend James Martin, SJ

Recently, the current president infamously had peaceful protesters forcibly removed from the streets in Washington DC, so he could have a photo op in front of St. John’s Church.  While his methodologies were atrocious, his actions to try to co-op religion for his political benefit are really no different than past presidents or current candidates.  Political leaders strive to obtain the weight and power of the evangelical base.

“Jesus said to him, ‘Away from me Satan!  For it is written, worship the Lord your God, and serve him only” Matthew 4:10

While I find this appalling from political leaders, it is much worse that more religious leaders, like Father Martin, didn’t come out and condemn these actions.  There is no place for religion in politics, and it is typically those who are truly “wolves in sheep’s clothing” such as Franklin Graham and Jerry Falwell, Jr. who embrace it.  When I hear terms like “Christian nation” or “God and country”, it just makes me cringe and think of how we try to justify our actions with the cross and Bible.

There are so many reasons why we shouldn’t be mixing the two, but just to name a few:

• It’s not what the Founding Fathers had in mind.  They clearly defined that church and state should not be intertwined.
• As noted above in Matthew 4:10, and in various other passages, it’s not Biblical.
• It leaves out a great number of those in our country who aren’t Christian, including those of Jewish faith, Muslim, Hindu, and a wealth of others.  And for my dear Catholic friends, keep in mind that many Evangelicals do not find Catholicism as worthy of being called Christianity, so you would be on the outside looking in also.
• Even if it were somehow the right thing to do, to mix the two, it’s not something we model in our everyday lives.  While I could cite so many instances where it is stated in the Bible some variation on “Love your neighbor”, I’ll go with the old hymn that says, “They will know we are Christian by our love”.  Let me ask, do our neighbors who are Black and suffer from systemic racism know we are Christians by our love?  Do the immigrants who come to our country, that we turn away, to suffer an almost certain death, do they feel the love?  Does the LGBTQ community feel the love?  Asians who have been persecuted because we blame them for COVID-19, and refer to it as the "Kung Flu", are they feeling the love?  
• Do we really want to use Christianity to justify what we do and be no different, no better, than the American KKK or the Nazi’s?

“He has shown you, O mortal, what is good.  And what does the Lord require of you?  But to do justice, and to love kindness, and to walk humbly with your God” Micah 6:8

While there would be some who would paint me as anti-American, that is just not the case.  While we have grown to be a country where everything is either/or, I still believe in and as my conjunction of choice.  I do love this country, although I’m growing more and more disappointed with us, but clearly, you don’t fall out of love with someone or something just because it has some issues.  I just think we can be much better than this.  Compassion and kindness aren’t necessarily a Christian thing, any of us, no matter our race, religion, ethnicity, gender or political party could follow what Micah said, and we’d be a whole lot better off.  We just haven’t been doing a very good job of it lately.

And, I do love God.  Here’s where I’ll add one more conjunction though – but.  But my love for God far outweighs any love I may have for this country, or anything else for that matter.  It’s not even close to a contest.  Some may say, they “wear it on their sleeve”.  I wear it on my arms.  One of the two tattoos I have is Micah 6:8, while the other is Joshua 24:15.  I serve but one God.

“Now if you are unwilling to serve the Lord, choose this day whom you will serve…but as for me and my household, we will serve the Lord.”  Joshua 24:15

It's Who We Are

How We React to Protesting in America

I remember a few years ago, the last time we went through the string of lynchings, we were driving from the airport, we had picked Sean up from college, and the interstate was closed down, and we were directed off.  I couldn’t figure out what was going on, and then I saw all of the protesters blocking the interstate.  I was so frustrated, and I felt so inconvenienced.  My anger kept growing as we eventually weaved our way home.

That was the dialogue on the news also, these protesters blocking the interstate, they’re disrupting our lives, disrupting business.  The protesters should be planning their protests off business hours, and not blocking traffic.  That would be more appropriate.  Trayvon Martin, Michael Brown, Freddie Gray, Eric Garner, and so many more.  Can’t remember what the latest killing had been at the time, but I guess their lives were disrupted too, huh?

I also remember of course when Colin Kaepernick and some of his teammates kneeled for the National Anthem.  That was called disrespectful to the military, and white America lost its collective mind.  And LeBron James wore a shirt that said “I Can’t Breathe” after Eric Garner was murdered, but that was heavily criticized by Laura Ingraham on Fox, who called for him to "shut up and dribble".  Hey Laura, why don't you shut up and .....  No, just shut up.

Contrast that with some of the actions of white supremacists and fringe groups that are given a free pass for their activities because they are just exercising their freedom of speech rights.  I’m sorry, I struggle with the visuals above.  Tell me that if the color of the skin above had been reversed, we wouldn’t have a different perspective?  What form of protest are we OK with African-Americans doing?  People are being senselessly murdered, and we are critical of the method of protest being used.  They try peaceful protests, and it’s disrespectful.  They resort to violence, because they aren’t being heard, and we send the military after them.

It’s funny what set me over the edge this time.  I saw a friend’s post about the current situation, and someone that I don’t even know wrote that “data does not support rampant racist behavior by police” and “I don’t see racist behavior among people I interact with, and I am among people of many races.  So I question that it is systemic or widespread – if it was, it seems I would see it in my experience.”

I lost my mind.  I don’t know why, maybe it was the last straw of the justification coming from white America.  All I could figure was that she lived under a rock, or she had drank the Kool Aid being served daily by the racists at Fox “News”.

OK, maybe I’m the one who has lived in some racist bubble all my life, but let me at least provide a few examples of my early years:

• I give my parents credit, even though racism was rampant in the 60’s, I never heard that type of dialogue or talk in our home.  But, I spent a great deal of time at my Great-grandmother’s house, and my Great Uncles were often there.  I heard the N-word continually in my developmental years.  They also insulted virtually every ethnic group, but the N-word was a word I heard often.
• I grew up out in the middle of the country, and there were very few African-Americans.  I remember once we had a basketball game, and the JV team from the other school had an African-American.  Some of the guys would yell racial slurs under their breaths throughout the game.  Many in the stands laughed or laughed nervously, not knowing what to do.  At halftime of the varsity game, a brawl broke out in the lobby because of the racial slurs that were made.
• When I was in college, I wrote part-time for a local newspaper covering high school sports.  The one team in the league had a couple of young African-Americans move in, and they played on the basketball team.  After a game the team had won, I was interviewing the coach, and this man yelled, “Hey coach!”.  We both turned, and the man said, “Good thing you got those n---s, huh?”  My mouth dropped, and the coach turned back to me, and he was visibly shaken and upset.   

To deny that we are a racist nation is to deny our roots, our upbringing.  It’s in our blood, it’s in our DNA.  We are the country that gave birth to the American Ku Klux Klan!  How can we deny who we are?  Until we are able to come to grips with this, we can’t move past this topic and gain any ground.

“I tell you the truth, when you refuse to help the least of these my brothers and sisters, you were refusing to help me”

We have to acknowledge who we are, where we’ve come from, and determine how we change this for the sake of all of our brothers and sisters being targeted, dehumanized and some, sadly killed.  If we say we don’t see color, we are lying to ourselves.  We all see color.  If we want to hang onto the Confederate Flag because it’s our heritage, we are telling those who find it a symbol of racism and past slavery, we don’t care about how you feel, we value this symbolic piece of cloth over you.  If we deny there is racism in this country, I would suggest we need to look in the mirror. 

I’ve often been one who believes in trying to find the common ground on issues.  I tend to believe we take a hard line on each side of an issue, and there is often a middle ground that we can come to agreement on that benefits both sides.  There is no middle ground on this issue.  If you don’t stand firmly against racism, vocally, vehemently, you stand for it.  This is not an issue to be silent on.

“If these were silent, the very stones would cry out”

Sadly, many of us, including me, have been silent for too long.  I applaud some of the younger generation, they don’t seem nearly as complacent as some of us “old white guys”, and I hope they sustain that anger and push for a change.  For those of you like me who have stood by too long, too silently, who have quietly felt anger, but didn’t do anything, I’d like to share with you what a dear friend Dave Carr has taught me, and I’m doing it to find a beginning, to find a voice.  I’ve taken the Alcoholics Anonymous approach, and if you’d like, please join me:

HI, my name is Steve McCullough

I’m an American

I’m a racist

Epilogue:  I attended my first protest or rally yesterday that happened in Duluth, Georgia.  The picture below is from one of four little girls that were near me with their parents.  I cried.  It killed me that we have created a society where these children grow up as “less than”.  Yes, she matters.  We love to spout off about being a Christian nation, but there is so little that we do that has any resemblance to what Jesus taught. 

Ahmaud Arbery, Breonna Taylor, George Floyd

Say their names

The Weight

I Will Rise

A Time to Kill

The scene below is from the closing arguments of the trial in the movie, “A Time to Kill”.  I still remember watching that closing scene, the horror had unfolded early in the movie, we thankfully didn’t see the details, but still, hearing Matthew McConaughey so eloquently and brutally detail it was chilling.  And the final line made me choke and brought tears to my eyes. 

I've left out some of the more graphic parts of the dialogue because it is just too painful to recount.

I want to tell you a story.  I’m going to ask you all to close your eyes while I tell you the story.  I want you to listen to me.  I want you to listen to yourselves.  Go ahead.  Close your eyes, please.  This is a story about a little girl walking home from the grocery store one sunny afternoon.  I want you to picture this little girl.  Suddenly a truck races up.  Two men jump out and grab her.  They drag her into a nearby field and they tie her up and they rip her clothes from her body.  Now they climb on.  First one, then the other, raping her, shattering everything innocent and pure with a vicious thrust in a fog of drunken breath and sweat.  …. So they pick her up, throw her in the back of the truck and drive out to Foggy Creek Bridge.  Pitch her over the edge.  And she drops some thirty feet down to the creek bottom below.  Can you see her?  Her raped, beaten, broken body soaked in their urine, soaked in their semen, soaked in her blood, left to die.  Can you see her?  I want you to picture that little girl.

Now imagine she’s white

I’m going to present three scenarios for you, all of them real-life scenarios that I’ve experienced.  As you read through these, I’d like you to envision the situation, similar to above, but also, maybe put yourself or one of your children in the scenario and see how you would react or feel in that situation.  I would also like you to consider how does the color of someone’s skin impact each of these situations?  Because whether we like it or not, believe it or not, the color of someone’s skin colors how we view things and clearly changes how the legal system deals with the outcome.

Scene 1

About 14 years ago, we moved to Lawrenceville, Georgia, we had come from Ohio.  We found a beautiful home, we are in the back of a cul-de-sac, and our backyard is completely covered in trees.  When they are in full bloom, you can’t even see any of the neighbors’ houses.  There are a bazillion squirrels in the backyard, I always said that Laurel bought this house for Snickers, he was our dog at the time, and he was a beagle who loved to chase the squirrels.  Now it’s Daisy who does this.

We were in our home a brief period of time, and as I looked out the backdoor, I saw a young man walking through my backyard, carrying a rifle.  I’ll have to admit, I’ve never experienced something like this in my life.  I watched as he walked through our yard, and then left just as he came.  We subsequently found out, he was one of our neighbor’s son, and apparently he was hunting squirrels. 

As the years have gone by, I’ve wondered, what if?  What if I had panicked, what if I would have grabbed a gun, and done something stupid?  What if in that moment, I confronted the young man, what if he turned toward me and I thought he was going to shoot me, what if out of fear, I had shot him and killed that young man?  How would I feel?  How devastating would that be to take a life, a life that I had no business taking, a life that should have many years of love, marriage, children, grandchildren ahead of it?  How much pain would I feel for the rest of my life?  What would his parents think, how would they react, what would have happened to me, would I have gone to jail for committing murder?  Quite frankly, I should have if it would have happened.

But what if he were black?

Scene 2

Stupid me (unfortunately many of my stories start this way), I was taking Sean to soccer practice at a local park after work.  That morning, I grabbed a long sleeve t-shirt, sweat pants, and tennis shoes, so that I could run that night at the park while Sean practiced, the park had a really nice trail that curved through the woods.  Going back to the introduction, my error was that I grabbed a black t-shirt, black sweat pants, and on top of it, a black baseball cap for my run.  To make matters worse, it was fall, and it was getting darker earlier, so by the time I was probably midway through my run, it was dark on the trails, and I really had a hard time even seeing where I was going.

As I was getting close to the end of my run, I looked ahead, and there were headlights coming toward me on the trail, which was very strange, as I noted, this was a running trail through the woods.  As I got closer, the lights kept coming toward me.  As I got close to the car, I was blinded by the lights, and I tried going around it on the driver’s side.  Just as I was passing the front of the car, the driver’s door swung open.  I had that instantaneous panic attack, thinking I’m about to be mugged.  I then saw the lights on top of the car, it was a police car, and it was a police officer getting out of the car.  He asked me to stop, which I did, and he started talking to me.  In my state of panic, I forgot my music was still playing through my earbuds, and I finally turned the music off.

As I stood there, panting, scared, wondering what the heck was going on, I noticed there was another police officer coming around from the other side, and he was younger, and he was eyeing me up pretty closely.  The first officer started questioning me, what was I doing, where had I come from, etc.  I was quickly trying to come to my senses, and trying to figure out why I was being stopped by the police, and I’ll have to admit, I was scared to death.  I had no idea what I had done wrong.

The conversation soon turned to the reason.  Apparently, a woman had been assaulted in the neighborhood adjacent to the park, and I matched the description of the possible suspect.  The first officer was older, he seemed, and was, very reasonable, and I think, soon realized, I wasn’t the perpetrator of the attack.  Still, at one point, the younger officer, who continued to eye me up, asked me to lift up my shirt, I guess to see if I was carrying a weapon.  After what seemed to be hours of questioning (I’m pretty sure it was about 10 minutes), they let me go, but with a stern warning from the first officer.  “Don’t run in the dark, dressed all in black!”  I could only say, “I know, I know, it will never happen again!”

After the incident, when I went home and relayed the entire ordeal to Laurel, what crossed my mind, particularly in relation to the younger police office, what if?  What if the younger officer thought I was trying to run, I wasn’t going to stop when I went around the police car?  What if he thought I was running toward the first officer, what if he thought I was planning on attacking the first officer?  How would he react, he seemed far less experienced, and far more suspicious of me. 

What if I had been black?

Scene 3

I think we’ve all experienced those stories that we hear years later of what our children did that it’s probably a good idea that we never knew when they actually happened.

When Patrick was in college and he would come home for the summer, he apparently developed this habit of going up to our neighborhood pool in the middle of the night for a swim.  He’d climb the fence, swim for a while, and then when he was done, he’d go into the clubhouse, it was unlocked, and take an ice cream bar out of the freezer.  We were horrified when we heard of this.  First, he was technically trespassing, the pool closes at 10 or so at night.  Second, while the clubhouse was unlocked, he was stealing, admittedly minor theft, but theft. 

We told him once we found out how lucky he was that no one caught him.  What if one of our neighbors had noticed what was happening, ice cream bars were gradually disappearing from the clubhouse.  They start watching and see that someone is breaking into the pool, hopping the fence and swimming at night.  What if they decided to confront the perpetrator, and when they reached the clubhouse, and Patrick was coming out, somehow they thought they saw a weapon on him, or Patrick reacted in a defensive manner, and they shot and killed him.  How would they have felt, how would we have felt, would this be a criminal offense punishable by jail time, would this person go to jail, even though Patrick had committed a crime?

What if Patrick were black?

Over the years, I’ve always enjoyed walking through houses under construction.  It’s fun to see a house going up, what it looks like in progress, and seeing it come to its final conclusion.  I’ve never thought much of it, never thought that there was anything wrong with it.  I grew up that way, as a little kid my Dad would take me places, and we’d look at new construction, it was fun to do.  I guess I’m lucky, I never knew that if you toured a construction site, you could be hunted down and murdered for your transgressions.

And I’ve been a runner for probably 40 years or so.  Not a great runner, I always say I’m like a plow horse when I run, but I do enjoy running.  Thankfully, I can’t ever think of a time or imagine a couple of Billy Bob’s coming after me with guns when I was running.  I hate to say it, but I have too much of my Dad in me, and no matter how bad the odds were and how stupid it was, I probably wouldn’t back down.  I could easily see continuing my run and telling them to fuck off or confronting them and telling them to put the gun down and man up.  In either case, sadly, I’d probably be another justified homicide, or self-defense or whatever the rationale would be for the killing.  But wait, maybe not, I forgot….

I’m white

Were You There?

Heroes

It's the End of the World As We Know It - Well, Maybe Not

“It's the end of the world as we know it

It's the end of the world as we know it

It's the end of the world as we know it and I feel fine”

Last week at work, Dagmar Deamer reminded me of this song with all that we are going through with this pandemic.  I listened to it once again, and I remembered how much I enjoyed this song.  But no, I’m not feeling fine, I’m far from feeling fine.  Plus, now, I can’t get this damn song out of my head.  Thanks Dagmar.  But as usual, I digress.

Just like with any other crisis in life, we are dealing with this pandemic in our own special way.  I’ll have to admit, I wasn’t doing a very good job of it early on.  Well, at first, I actually was having some fun with it.  I thought it was a bunch of hooey, and I told everyone I wasn’t going to do anything differently, I was going to go on with life just like I always did.  I then had my “oh shit” moment the one night about 3 am when I decided to look at my phone and saw that the NBA postponed their season.  I then realized that all other sports would follow suit, and this was serious.  For sports to pass up millions upon millions of dollars, this had to be serious.  We had a rough road ahead of us.

As many of you are aware, I do suffer from depression, and it can be something much less than a pandemic that sets me off, like a Publix commercial, so to say that this sent me downward would be an understatement.  I started worrying about, well, everything.  The pandemic, combined with the huge drop in oil prices, would be devastating for our economy.  Needless to say, many people are and will die from this, which is even more devastating.  My mind was, as in many cases, my own worst enemy.

On a personal level, this past week has hit a pretty deep low, we’ve had several setbacks that are not monumental in the grand scheme of things, but when you pile them all together, can register as a pretty shitty week on the scales.  In no certain order:

• Our son Patrick and his fiancée Rachel were going to be married on April 25, and of course, unfortunately, the wedding had to be postponed.  While we were sad for Patrick, we really were upset for Rachel and for her parents.  To a great extent, a wedding is for the bride, and also to a great extent, the parents of the bride.  They had gone through a lot of planning and preparation, and now, they had to regroup and plan for another date.

• We’ve been busily keeping in close contact with our daughter Kelly, she works for IHG (Holiday Inn), and as you can suspect, her job is probably in a certain level of jeopardy.  The hotel industry is in a very difficult position, people aren’t traveling right now, and who knows when they will start traveling again.

• I had been diagnosed with Crohn’s Disease a few months ago, which I chose not to believe, so I got a second opinion.  This week, I found out … I have Crohn’s Disease.  While this isn’t anything life-threatening, it does provide a certain level of discomfort and joint pain that I’m really not used to.  OK, I know, I’m almost 60 years old, I can’t or shouldn’t complain, but this wasn’t a fun revelation.

• Laurel and I had a few “moments” this week where we probably weren’t as kind to each other as we should be.  With all of the stress going on, it’s probably understandable, and we’ve been married over 37 years, so we will of course be OK, but I know she hurt my feelings, and I’m sure I hurt her feelings.  We didn’t have a good week together.

Normally, I can at least gain comfort from some of the sanctuaries that I frequent, but to no one’s surprise, they are all closed.  Our church is closed until May 11 at a minimum.  Our yoga studio is closed for the foreseeable future.  The local brewery that we go to is closed.  While I am an introvert, I really need personal interaction, and with the social distancing we have to do, I can’t get that either.  I have to say, I was starting to go bat shit crazy.

As I was reaching new lows toward the end of the week, I think it was MK Rodgers who reminded me of what one of my heroes, Mr. Rogers, used to say, “Look for the helpers.  You will always find people who are helping”.  And I did, I found a great deal of people who were helping.  I always hate to individually point people out because I will of course miss some people, but I found so many people willing to help and doing everything they could to help.  Just a few examples:

• Our church, Shallowford Presbyterian Church, has implemented various online options, Bible studies, classes, services, music, etc.  The greatest benefit is that I’ve been able to share these with my Mom, and she’s been able to watch them from her home in North Carolina.  The only downside is when she’s watched one that I haven’t, and I have to admit I haven’t seen it yet.

• Several yoga studios are providing online classes for free, so that we can continue to practice yoga even if we can’t get to the studio.  While it’s not the same, it’s great to still be able to practice, even if it’s in our home.  The only issue is when Daisy and Little Bit come up and lick our faces when we are in Down Dog, but we’ll have to deal with that.

• Alyssa Firestone, my colleague Drew’s wife, reached out to me and spent at least 45 minutes on the phone with me talking through Crohn’s Disease, the issues, problems, vitamins, probiotics, diet, things to watch out for, etc.  She has dealt with this disease for many, many years and at a much higher level than me, so I’m embarrassed to even say I have it.  But she spent so much time, and so patiently talked through what this could mean for me.

• Out of the blue, I got an e-mail from Chuck Achuff from church, just asking me how I was doing with everything going on.  He said that this was probably difficult for business, and asked how I was holding up.

• As we all navigate a brave new world of COVID-19, I have to say that our support system at WIKA has been incredible.  I’m always impressed with our Human Resources team at WIKA, but Cathy Bochenek is one of the most impressive people I’ve ever worked with.  She deals with Health and Safety, and she has been ahead of the game the entire time.  She has been her consistently amazing self.

• On top of that, our IT support team has been called to do a great deal of work to allow our personnel to work from home.  Justin Williams and his team are always ready, responsive and calmly do whatever is needed to ensure our personnel get what they need.  They have consistently gone above and beyond.

• As I mentioned earlier, MK Rodgers has been so much of what I needed on Facebook, she is real, she is honest, she says what we are all thinking and feeling.  I really needed that.

• On the other hand, Jimmy Shafe has consistently been the light that I may not always want, but I need.

• Brad Bryant and Bradley Kibler from church consistently are Brad and Bradley.  As we are trying to navigate how to do Sunday school classes and confirmation classes remote, Brad and Bradley are forces of positivity and persistence to ensure, we will make this work.

So yes, I started focusing on the helpers, and I started feeling much better.  As I rounded out the week, and I was on my morning run, the song “Glory in the Highest” started playing, and I felt so much better.  I started singing praise as I ran,

“Glory glory Hallelujah,

Glory, glory to you, Lord,

Glory, glory Hallelujah,

Hallelujah”

And then I remembered my mantra, whenever my brain and the demons inside of my brain try to drag me down, and I shouted out,

“I am baptized!  So fuck off!”

So many times, when we are dealing with difficulties in life, it’s easy to focus on those who are failing us, whether it’s our politicians, the media, each other, whoever it is, we can see who is letting us down.  But there are so many out there that are going above and beyond, in their own special way.  It may be something as simple as a kind word or a kind gesture.  That can make all the difference.

Is this the end of the world as we know it?  Who knows?  But what if it is?  Admittedly never the optimist, I’m pretty confident, we’re going to be fine.  There are enough of you out there that will bring light to the darkness, and no matter what we face, we’ll get through it.  Keep up the great work you all do. There are many of us who appreciate it.

What Does Happiness Look Like?

A little over a month ago, I wrote, “Sinking Deep – OK, I Lied”, and I promised that my next blog post would be “What Does Happiness Look Like?”.  But then I wrote, “Sinking Deep – OK, I Lied.  Again.”  I’m seeing a pattern here.  But finally we are to “What Does Happiness Look Like?”.

As I noted when I promised this post, my cousin Tim Rodgers’ son, Ian, is my inspiration for this post.  A couple of months ago, Ian wrote the following post on Facebook:

“For the first time in years, I am happy. Not fleeting happiness. Actual, consistent, contentment. I have been for a few months. It didn't hit me that I was all of a sudden in a better place. It happened gradually, almost so slowly that I didn't realize it (it's like growing taller-you don't wake up one day and realize you're tall...).

I'm thrilled to be able to write these words: I am happy. It feels foreign. But it's real, and I value it immensely. I've been able to harness that happiness to rediscover my passions. I'm reading again. I’m taking better care of my body, working out, and I'm running a half marathon this weekend. I'm going on more adventures. I'm making the most of this precious possession.

I'm nervous to write these words. My happiness is unpredictable. My brain can be cruel and unforgiving, and as quickly as it escaped the darkness, it can suck me right back in.

It fills me with questions, questions that show that the pain and doubt don't usually go too far away: Is this real? Does writing it down jinx it? How long will this period of light last? And perhaps most of all, if people don't like me, and I can't blame it on my mental illness because I'm in a good place, does that mean that I'm just bad?

Even with the doubts, the questions, the fears, I still recognize that I am, for the first time in a while, happy. And I will hold on to that as long and as tightly as I can.”

Would you look at that face?  Isn’t it amazing?  I was so ecstatic when I read this post and saw that picture, I was so happy for Ian.  It also made me think, what does happiness look like?  I’ve had those fleeting moments of happiness as Ian describes, but not sustained happiness.  I wondered what that would look like.

But then a funny thing happened on the way to a blog post.  I got to experience happiness, and not fleeting happiness, but about two weeks of happiness, and if I may dare say, frickin’ giddiness.  I was a man on fire.  OK, it didn’t last, I didn’t stay in this state of euphoria, but then again, I didn’t sink deep again.  For now, I’m in a good place.

But back to the post.  When I saw Ian’s post and picture, it made me think, what does happiness look like?  So I scanned back through various pictures on my computer, and I scanned through various pictures that some of you have posted over time.  There have been some that have been my favorites, where I saw true happiness.  Keep in mind, my eyes are the lens, you all may not agree with what I’ve chosen as what happiness looks like.  There were way too many to choose from, so I missed some of you, and I apologize, and I also missed some great pictures, including today (specifically Pete and Lucy Sproull and the Martin girls!).  And also keep in mind, I tend to favor dogs, babies, small children,  and romance so my view is skewed in that direction (remember I’m a Hallmark Christmas movie junkie).

I hope you enjoy, I know I did putting it together.  And thank you Ian for the inspiration and motivation to keep on searching for what happiness looks like.

One last thing for all of us to remember, especially me, and especially in this season:

“Fix your eyes on this one truth, God is madly in love with you”

Sinking Deep - OK, I Lied. Again.

Editor’s Note: I had said that my post, “Sinking Deep – Into Light” would be my last post on my journey with depression.  Then I posted, “Sinking Deep – OK, I Lied”.  And now, happily, I am lying again.  Wow.  I have some great news to share. 

I know some of you are struggling with my blog posts and that I’m sharing my journey with depression.  Believe me, I get that, especially those of you who really care about me, but I just strongly believe it is way too important to share my journey.  If one person is helped by knowing that there is someone else out there like them, I will feel like I’ve been successful.

But even more, these last couple of weeks have been unbelievable.  I can’t overstate what has happened over the last weeks, and I’m completely amazed by it all.  While I know some of you are on different faith journeys, I can’t possibly attribute this to anything other than a “God thing”.  There is no other way to put it.

Look into the face of love and grace

Hailey recently suggested to me that I talk about my struggles with the sins of my past and self-forgiveness to someone other than her.  As she put it, she can tell me all day long that I can forgive myself, but maybe since I’m paying her to help me, I need to talk to someone else and share my story and share that burden to see what their reaction would be.

This was a tough assignment.  It took me a while to work up the trust with Hailey to share my story with her, but it would be tougher to share it with someone else.  As noted before, 30 years ago, I abandoned my family, I moved out, I gave up my responsibility, I lived like a vagabond, in friends’ guest rooms, on couches, on floors, and finally in a tiny, barely furnished apartment.  That’s the cliff notes version, but I was to provide the fuller story to someone besides Hailey.  As noted, this story has been shoved down for 30 years, it was hard enough to tell Hailey, so many details I don’t even remember, or I’ve conveniently forgotten. 

I finally decided that I had to do it.  But to whom?  I scanned my mind, friends, family, co-workers, church members, my Small Group.  This was a really tough choice, I didn’t know who I could trust, but also who I would want to burden with my ugly story.  I finally decided on our Associate Pastor, Catherine Foster.  Why Catherine?  Simply put, she’s one of my favorite pastors in my life, and she’s a beautiful child of God.

As the day approached, I had so much apprehension, but a firm commitment that I was going to go through with this.  While I knew Catherine well enough to know that she wouldn’t be repulsed in horror at my story, I did have some deep seated fears.  As we sat at dinner, my biggest fears were that I would throw up all over her, or I would burst into flames.  Spoiler alert, neither happened.   As I shared my story, the pain I’ve felt for 30 years, I looked into the face of love and grace, but it was even more.

Those eyes.

I just wish I could truly describe those eyes to you.  I saw love and grace, and I saw compassion, empathy, pain – for me, I saw the eyes of God upon me saying, “Why do you keep doing this to yourself, my son, I’ve forgiven you, why won’t you forgive yourself?”  We talked for a long time, and Catherine offered me so many words that were wonderful, and I deeply appreciate that, but it was those eyes.  I couldn’t believe, I physically felt a weight lifted, I felt so much lighter.  I couldn’t believe what a relief I felt.

The seat of judgment

For our Forum Sunday School class at church, we are going to read “The Wonder of Christmas” by Ed Robb and Rob Renfroe for Advent.  I started reading it on a plane trip recently, and I came upon this line:

“But let’s be honest.  King Herod knew there was room for only one on the throne, and we know the same thing.  It’s either Jesus or us.”

As noted, I believe firmly that God is the only one who can and should judge us, and I have no problem with that applying to everyone.  Except me.  I can’t seem to remove myself from the seat of judgment, as much as I know it’s wrong, I apparently believe I know more than God when it comes to judging myself. 

As I shared this line with Hailey, I tried to move on, but she forced me to explain why this line bothered me so much.  I got really emotional, and I said, “Why do I think I have the right to sit on the throne.  I don’t have any right to sit in judgment of myself, why can’t I see that?”  She said, “That’s the first time you’ve said it this way.  You always talk in third person, this is the first time you’ve used I.  That’s really good.”

Hailey then went on to suggest maybe I visualize it.  Maybe I could visualize letting God sit on the throne, and move off of it.  I didn’t have to do it permanently, I could move back on when I wanted to, but maybe I could let God sit there periodically?  We’ve done these visualization exercises before, and they’ve been very effective and powerful, but I had another idea.  When I got home, I bought two stuffed animals from Amazon.  I found a lamb, to symbolize the Lamb of God, and I bought Eeyore to represent me.  As you all know, I love Winnie the Pooh, but I’ve been feeling more Eeyore lately.  When I got them, I set them up in our family room with the lamb sitting up in the chair, and Eeyore sitting on the ottoman.  As noted, I can move them if I want, but so far, I’ve been able to let the Lamb of God sit where He belongs.

It’s amazing how the tapestry is woven together

Hailey and I recently began talking about work a little bit, and I shared with her the narrative I grew up with, “You always take care of your family”.  Keep in mind, my parents grew up post-depression, and work and providing for your family was a necessity.  My Dad worked 18 years at one point without a single day off for vacation or a sick day.  My brother worked three jobs for many years.  Hard work was instilled in us, and it became the narrative for my life.  I have obsessed over work for my entire career, my work has dominated my mindset and my entire life.  I remember once, I was sick, but I went to work.  I told Sherry Starr, who worked for me at the time, “I’m going to go home, and lie down for a couple hours, but I should be back after lunch.”  Keep in mind, this is before cell phones, and I remember lying there in bed, so sick I couldn’t get up, but I crawled across the floor, and pulled the phone off of the dresser, and I lay on the floor, listening to and responding to my voice mails.  Yes I was sick in more ways than one.

Please don’t take this wrong, I don’t blame my parents for this narrative that I grew up with.  There is nothing wrong with that narrative.  But I morphed it into something dangerous and ugly.  I made work into life.  I glorified it into something it should never be.  And I also used this narrative as a sledgehammer to beat myself up for the sins of my past.  “I abandoned my family.  I didn’t take care of my family.”

Help me Obi-wan, you’re my only hope

As I shared all of this with Hailey last week, she said, “That was your narrative growing up.  That doesn’t have to be your narrative as a grown up.  You can change it.”  You wouldn’t believe what that statement meant to me.  I know, I know, I know.  I couldn’t possibly be the most colorful crayon in the box if I didn’t already know this, but somehow, just hearing this changed me completely. 

Let me digress for just one second.  Back to the book, “The Wonder of Christmas”, Rob Renfroe describes a time 30 years ago in his life (tell me that’s not a God moment) where he was miserable and bitter.  He went to a religious conference, and at the end, they had a prayer service.  He said it wasn’t immediate, but he realized afterward that God had healed him. 

Now I know it’s only been six days, but I can’t believe how happy I’ve been in those six days.  Yes, happy.  I told Hailey I’m going to start calling her Obi-wan, but she quickly corrects me and says, “You’re the one doing all the hard work, I’m just sitting in this chair providing some ideas.”  Oh pish-posh Hailey!  OK, to be honest, I am pretty proud of myself for the lamb and Eeyore idea, I’m learning a lot and using what I learn.

I can feel the ground shake beneath us as the prison walls cave in

I went for my normal run this morning, and I listened to my normal songs.  As I was listening to “Another in the Fire” (my obsession with Hillsong United and this song is a bit over the top), I heard the line above, and I felt this huge smile come across my face.  And I couldn’t take that smile away.  I can start to feel the prison walls that I’ve created beginning to cave in.  What a wonderful feeling.

As Hailey pointed out to me, I now need to figure out what my new narrative is going to be.  That may be a bit difficult, but I’m sure we’ll get there.  Yes, the train has just barely left the station, but wow, these last few weeks have been incredible.  Besides the help I’ve noted above, I know so many of you have been praying for me, giving me words of encouragement, sending me words of encouragement, and posting inspirational quotes on Facebook for me to see.  You all have been awesome.  Thanks be to God, and to all of the people He’s put in my life that are doing such incredible things to help me on this journey.

Sinking Deep - OK, I Lied

Editor’s Note: I had said that my last post, “Sinking Deep – Into Light” would be my last post on my journey with depression.  Yeah, I lied.  Seriously, I had some really incredible revelations recently that I needed to share.  So one last post.  Maybe.

“It really concerns me how afraid you are of going back.”

Uh-oh.

That look, the concern in her voice told me that I wasn’t going to enjoy the road we were about to be traveling on.

If you’ve read my last post, “Sinking Deep – Into Light”, I felt like I was finally moving forward, ever so slowly, but I was moving forward.  I was making progress, and I was starting to feel like I was moving forward on my road to self-forgiveness. 

I was feeling really good, but as the week went along, I was starting to slide.  My brain, or as Hailey keeps correcting me, part of my brain, keeps pulling me back, wanting me to go back to where I was.  While I personally don’t know what it’s like to be a drug addict or an alcoholic, I would tend to believe it’s similar.  I know that drug addicts and alcoholics are told to stay away from those who are bad influences, but in my case, it’s my brain that is the bad influence.  It keeps telling me, “It’s OK, come back to what you know.  You can be so much better, when you sink deep, that’s where you find God, He’s waiting for you there.” 

And it is what I know, what I’m familiar with.  It also is strangely comfortable and in a weird sort of way feels good.  As noted, I’ve told myself sinking deep ultimately makes me a better person, and I also get closer to God when I go deeper.  Maybe it’s just that I’ve done this all my life, but as crazy as it sounds, depression is a safe place, a perceived good place to be, or at least it was.  As I noted, it started becoming longer and deeper, and I’ll admit, scarier, and that is when I decided, with strong advice, it was time to seek counseling.  I just couldn’t do this alone anymore. 

When I started moving away, when I started to work toward recovery, my brain intervened and wanted to bring me back to a way of life I’ve known and felt comfortable with for at least 30 years.  So when Hailey expressed concern about being afraid to go back, yes, I’m afraid, I don’t want to go back, but my brain keeps dragging me back, dragging me back under the waters.

I think the reality that Hailey knows, and the reality that I knew but somehow had forgotten, is that my depression is a life-long illness that isn’t ever going to go away completely.  Similar to Patrick with his club foot that he’s had since birth, we will have to deal with what we have all our lives.  What it comes down to is figuring out how to deal with it.  I had briefly lost sight of that as I progressed and grew in my journey of self-forgiveness, I had mistakenly thought that I’d eventually grow out of my depression. 

“We should do three things every day of our life.  Number one is laugh.  You should laugh every day.  Number two is to think, we should spend some time in thought.  And, number three is you should have your emotions moved to tears….If you laugh, you think and you cry, that’s a full day.”  - Jim Valvano

So the road took an unexpected twist, which was my own fault, Hailey never told me I would miraculously be cured, I just got a little too excited and thought we were heading somewhere else for a brief period of time.  We were and are headed toward a road of self-forgiveness, as she keeps pointing out to me, I can do this, I just need to let myself do it.  We are working on that, and while I’ve always doubted myself in this regard, I do believe that with help, I can do this.  I know, I should be saying I will do this.

In regard to depression, all is not lost.  Hailey actually is working with me on coping skills, and I have learned some ways of dealing with my depression when it starts setting in.  Yes, I’m still scared.  While Hailey tells me I have great coping skills, I’m not quite as confident in myself.  I do believe I’m heading in the right direction, even if I lost the view of my compass for a few moments. 

One of my favorite quotes is shown above from Jim Valvano.  I’ve shared before that every time I take a yoga class with Megan Kearney, I laugh, I think, I cry.  Oh, I work my ass off in between, I sweat, I hurt, I push myself, but most importantly, I laugh, I think, I cry.  I get a full day out of an hour’s class with Megan Kearney.  That’s the same with my time with Hailey.  I laugh, I think, I cry.  I also work my ass off, in a different way, and I also work my ass off in between sessions.  But I get a full day out of my hour’s session with Hailey. 

I can learn to deal with my depression.

Sinking Deep - Into Light

Last weekend was our church retreat.  Right before leaving for it, I met with my counselor, Hailey, and told her how apprehensive I was, going to the retreat.  I told her that I just didn’t feel like I fit in, I don’t belong.  As I noted in my last blog post, I’ve felt this way more and more at Shallowford Presbyterian Church and at Ebb and Flow Yoga Studio, my two favorite places in the world.  I just don’t feel like I deserve being at either place, I’m not worthy to be there.   So, the retreat created a sense of unease in me, how do I navigate through it?

Hailey asked that, and also suggested maybe I could do what comes most natural for me at the moment, or what makes me feel most comfortable, do things for people.  Laurel and I arrived at the retreat, and since Laurel was on the planning committee, we got there early and were able to help set up.  This was great.  And then, a wonderful opportunity came.  Bradley Kibler, our Associate Pastor and the organizer of the retreat, said we needed someone to vacuum the floor of the large room we were using.  Yes!  What a great opportunity to serve, and also serve in a very nondescript manner.

As a small preface, this retreat’s theme was “The Power of Movement”.  We are transitioning to a new head pastor in about a month, and with any transition, you have change.  The theme was adapting, dealing with change, envisioning what we will look like in the future.  We worked in a large group a part of the time, and in small groups a part of the time.  We had lots of great exercises and lots of great discussion.

This retreat started in a much different manner for me.  I was really enjoying myself and even feeling like I fit in.  I was having great conversations with people, I was having a great time in my small group, I was bonding with people I really didn’t know that well before the retreat, this was going far beyond my expectations.  I was feeling comfortable, I was feeling more at ease, I was feeling like I did fit in.

But then…..

Vickie Dieth, our retreat speaker, began our session right before lunch on Saturday, and she said that as she was preparing for this retreat, at one point God spoke to her.  And what God told her was slow down.  And she said while this retreat was about movement, and how this may seem contrary to our goals for the weekend, she wanted us to spend an hour or so alone in our thoughts, and she wanted us to talk to God, and listen to what God had to say to us.  She gave us various avenues to do this, she gave us watercolors to paint, crayons to draw, books to read, pictures to look at, she told us we could go for a walk, but we needed to silently focus on talking to God and listening to what God had to say.

I sunk rapidly.  In a certain sense, I’m not completely sure why, but I did.  I knew that this wouldn’t be good, I would sink back into depression if I had to spend time alone with myself, or even with God.  But, I followed the rules dutifully, and I chose using a picture to work from.  I had seen a picture the night before of a dock in the water, stretching out from darkness to light, and the picture really grabbed my attention.  So I took that picture, and I went outside to sit on a bench with my thoughts, and even though it was freezing outside (for me at least), I sat out there, and looked at that picture.  I also grabbed my Ipod, and listened to my “go to” song at the moment, Hillsong United’s “Another In the Fire”. 

As I anticipated, I started crying.  I sat there looking at that picture, stuck in the darkness, listening to “Another In the Fire”, and I kept focusing on my depression, and not getting past it.  While the song is so beautiful, I gravitate to one line in the song, “I'll count the joy come every battle, ‘Cause I know that's where You'll be”.  I’ve convinced myself that my depression is necessary, I need it to get closer to God, and when I dive deep, that’s where I’ll find God.  Yes, I know, my brain is lying to me, this isn’t a healthy reality, but that’s where I’ve been. 

I sat there, and I started journaling, and talking to God, and I wrote:

“It was going so well, Lord.  I was distracted, I was having fun.  And then you brought me back to reality.  And I had to confront my fears.  I had to be alone and live with myself.  Still stuck in the darkness, looking for the light.  Trying to get out of this rut called depression, anxiety, fear, hatred of myself.  Back to where I’m longing for the light.  I count joy in every battle, because I know that’s where you’ll be.  Is that my song?  Is that my life?  Do I have to go deep to find you?  Is this just who I am?  Is there nothing more?”

As the song ended, I was crushed.  I was back to reality, I was back to who I was.  But then, I decided to play the song again.  Now, I’ve listened to this song many, many times, but for some reason, I decided to listen again.  And I don’t know what happened, OK, I do, but it was amazing.  Something lit up inside of me, and all I can attribute it to was God listening to me, and answering me.  My writing went on:

“I can be better, I really can.  This doesn’t have to be me.  I’m not defined by what I’ve done.  I’m defined by who I am.  I can be a better me.  I just have to figure out how.  Listen to the whole song, Dumb Ass!  It’s about redemption!”

When we got back from the retreat, I had to fly to Mexico for a week of meetings.  I was going to pack a book to read on the plane, and I started to choose one on leadership, but I thought, no, I need to read one on religion.  I looked for “A Way Through the Wilderness”, a book I love, but I couldn’t find it, so I settled on Adam Hamilton’s “24 Hours That Changed the World”.  I had never read it, but Laurel had, and she really liked it.  And it was an awesome choice for me at the moment.

As I started reading it on my flight to Mexico City, early on, I came to a section titled “A Meal That Defines Us”.  In it, there were these lines:

“What memories define you?  Are there events or words that play over and over inside your head?.... Those things are not meant to define you.  There is something else, a larger story, that defines you.  For you and me as Christians, our defining story is accompanied by a meal and some important words: “On the night when he was betrayed, Jesus took a loaf of bread, and when He had given thanks, He broke it and said, ‘This is my body that is for you.  Do this in remembrance of me.’  In the same way He took the cup also, after supper, saying, ‘This cup is the new covenant in my blood.  Do this, as often as you drink it, in remembrance of me.’  For as often as you eat this bread and drink this cup, you proclaim the Lord’s death until He comes.”

I oftentimes refer to those times when God speaks to me as “two by four” moments.  God knows I’m really not a good listener, so He has to smack me really hard across the head for me to listen.  As noted a few blogs ago, I had God speak to me through Pastor Rudy, and now I had two moments where I truly believe God is trying to get through my really thick head and get me to allow myself to forgive me. 

“There’s a slow, slow train comin’ up around the bend”

As I shared all of this with Hailey, my emotions were probably as strong as they’ve been since we started meeting.  But for once, we were starting on some good emotions.  As she noted, and she has an analogy for it, forgiveness is like a train, when you finally decide to forgive, that’s the engine starting up, but that forgiveness has to travel through all of the cars of the train, which represent many emotions, until finally, it reaches the caboose, and actual forgiveness happens.  When she shared that picture with me, I told her that the engine of my train was just starting to slowly work its way out of the station, it was currently moving at a turtle’s pace, but, it was moving forward.

For the first time, I left my counseling session feeling good.  For the first time, I felt like I was starting, ever so slowly, to be moving forward.  Hailey gave me an assignment, which was a real struggle for me to agree to, but I’m going to give it a shot.  As she said, “Even if you don’t believe it, it’s good to say something out loud and try to convince yourself of it.  Even if you know it’s a lie for the moment, say it out loud to yourself.”  After much debate and disagreement on the wording (I know, but I can’t help myself), I agreed to tell myself each day, “I’m moving toward forgiving myself”. 

As I’ve noted, I have a huge amount of thanks to give to Hailey, but as I’ve also noted, I truly believe God has had a hand in this.  Maybe God’s not through with me yet.

Sinking Deep - From Darkness

“But it’s a sad man my friend who’s livin’ in his own skin and can’t stand the company.”

After a few months of getting to know each other better, my counselor, Hailey, and I jointly decided it was time to take the plunge into the past and explore the roots of my depression.  We both knew it wouldn’t be a pleasant journey, but it was a journey we had to take, nonetheless, to try to move forward toward healing.

We headed back, way back to probably about 30 years ago, and we explored a life and a person I really didn’t know, and I definitely didn’t like.  We talked about those years, those events, and ultimately my abandonment of my family.  We explored what was happening and what led up to this.  But you know, it was the strangest thing, I couldn’t really recall much of the details.  It was kind of like the one time when I fell running, and all I can really remember was the fact I was lying on the ground, couldn’t remember how I got there or what happened, but I could remember how much it hurt.  We went through the same experience.  Hailey would question me about various points, timelines, etc., and I really couldn’t remember much of anything.  I was actually sitting there shaking, it was such a painful experience to go through.  I had shut this part of my life out completely, except for the global fact of abandoning my family, and it was hard and painful to recollect any of the details. 

After that, I plunged deeply, it was too painful to go through it.  I still agree, it had to be done, but it opened up some deep wounds.  As we got back together and discussed it, Hailey assured me that this was normal and expected.  I had stuffed this pain down and kept shoving it down for 30 years.  We had just started digging it out, and unfortunately, we never really did anything to heal it, we just left that open wound sitting there exposed. 

As we talked about it more, I realized how much I hated that person I was, and while it may be self-evident for many, it’s hard to go through life with so much hate inside, especially for yourself.  Have you ever gone through those exercises where you imagine someone sitting in front of you, a loved one, a friend, a colleague, someone you don’t particularly like, and you imagine smiling at them and giving them a big hug and telling them how much you love and appreciate them?  I’ve done that before, and I went through that exercise with Hailey, and where I always fail, is with myself.  When it comes time to visualize myself, smile, give myself a big hug, and say I love you, I just can’t bring myself to do it.

Hailey and I have gone through the discussions, if someone does something wrong to you, do you forgive them?  Of course, we all screw up.  Do you believe God forgives you?  Of course, He forgives us all.  Do you forgive yourself?  Well, that’s another matter altogether.  I know, I know, I know, logic doesn’t work here, and I get that.

As noted, we opened up a huge, gaping wound, and it’s going to take some time to figure out how to heal it. 

“For by grace, you have been saved through faith.  And this is not your own doing; it is the gift of God, not a result of works” – Ephesians 2:8-9

Digging into the past was bad enough, but then we had a serious “Aha moment”. 

Hailey asked me what do other people like about you, what do others see as good qualities that you possess?

I started listing off various acts of kindness that I’ve done, nice things I’ve done for people.  She looked at me very quizzically, and said, “You really didn’t say anything about yourself or good qualities you have, all you did was list things you do for people.”

That one hit like a brick.  I never realized that I perceive my value purely by my acts, not who I am.  We delved briefly into the religious implications of this, but I noted to Hailey, I’m a firm believer that the only way to Heaven and to redemption is through Jesus Christ and Grace.  While works are important, they don’t get us there.  It’s not a religious thing, that’s not why I do works, it’s because that is the only way I can feel better about myself, it’s the only way I can like myself.  While dredging up my past was painful, this was an awful realization about myself.  I’m not sure anyone could imagine how devastated I was when this hit home.

I started thinking about how I’ve grown to feel the most uncomfortable in the two places I love the most, Shallowford Presbyterian Church and Ebb and Flow Yoga Studio.  I just don’t feel like I’m worthy.  I told Hailey how we close most yoga classes with the instructor saying, “The divine light in me honors the divine light in you.  And when we’re in this place together, we are one.  Namaste”, and how I just don’t feel like I’ve “earned” hearing that. 

Is this rock bottom?  Well, I surely hope so!  If I’ve thoroughly depressed you, please read on for my next post, “Sinking Deep – Into Light”  While Hailey has been amazing, well, there’s no one who can match God when you need some help.