Grief 2.0 – “Table Talk with CCU” – From Mourning to Morning: Reflections on a Journey

The Inaugural “Table Talk with CCU” — A series for CCU that is patterned off of the TED talk series of lectures.  I was asked to give this short talk reflecting on my journey through grief.  

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Grief 2.0 – The urgency of regret

unknownRegret is signature characteristic of grief. Now, that statement may not be terribly consoling for most people experiencing grief, but in many ways, it is forced upon us because of our position in time. The word “regret” has an interesting history that might reveal some insights for us to understand the importance, even the urgency of experiencing our regret. The fascinating thing about the origins of the word regret is the Germanic word for “greet.” In a sense, if you think about it, regret is to “re-greet” or revisit our interactions with someone and think through the consequences of that interaction. As we do so, we see what could have been done, or could have been said, and we feel repentant of our actions. The reality is that “regret” is often the modern equivalent of an expression of repentance. Interestingly, Henry David Thoreau reminds us of the importance of regret when he said, “Make the most of your regrets; never smother your sorrow, but tend and cherish it till it comes to have a separate and integral interest. To regret deeply is to live afresh.” To regret deeply is to live afresh??? Regret feels like suffering grief all over again. Not only do we feel the pain of the absence of the person we love, but now we add regret into the mess? Actually the answer to that is “yes.”

The process of grief is a process of healing, and with healing comes necessary pain and reminders of what has happened. It is a necessity to grief because of the love we have for the person we have lost. If we didn’t love, we wouldn’t grieve. Therefore, in response to the above quote, our regret is a demonstration of our love for the person we have lost. Just as tears are a memorial to the love we have for the person lost, our regret underscores how important our relationship with him/her is to us. Therefore, when we come to the place in time where the person is gone, it’s natural for us to look back over the course of the history we have shared with the person we love. For most of us, that doesn’t happen while the person is alive. Life courses on like a river made up of a variety of events and interactions – loving, insensitive and neglectful, forgiving, gracious, joyful, sorrowful and moments of sacrifice. At the death of our loved one, the river comes to an end (of course this is where the metaphor breaks down). It seemingly disappears from sight, and we are left with the feeling of lostness I was commenting on in an earlier post. As I said there, the question comes: “Now what?” Well, the “now what” is that our vision is drawn back in time to recall and relish our relationship with them. Of course, with this revisiting in time, we become aware of our insensitivity, our unintentional comments that hurt, our failures in our relationship with them. What rises out of us is regret. On the heels of that regret is usually a long list of “if only’s.” If only I had been aware. If only I had retracted the words I said at that time. If only… The worst part of the regret that afflicts us during our grieving is that we seemingly can’t make it “right.” We can’t repent directly to the person and receive the forgiveness he/she would most likely give. It seems that our regret throws us headlong into a massive “dead end” sign (interesting phrase, isn’t it?). Yet, even in this attempt to make things right, we are trying to resurrect the dead. Our focus has to be on the living. The “here and now” not the “there and then.” To which “living” am I referring? You and me and those we love! We are the living in the relationship we are grieving. We are where the focus now has to be. It’s the choices we now make toward those we love that allows us to “live life afresh” as Henry David Thoreau put it. Not only that, it’s the choices we make about ourselves that is the foundation for how we care for the living.

Remember, earlier when I said that regret appears to be the modern equivalent for repentance? I think there is something profound hidden in that observation. If you review our language toward one another when we have failed or hurt another person, it is rare that we actually use the “repent.” Usually we use the words, “I’m sorry.” It’s our code for “I repent of what I have done.” Furthermore, the word sorry comes from the word “sorrow.” In other words, what I am saying is “I am filled with sorrow because of what I have done and how I’ve hurt you.” Of course, that is way too wordy for our emphasis on the economy of words! But allow me to fill out our understanding of the word “repent” and by extension the word “regret.” In Scripture, “repent” has different meanings (and words) in the Old Testament and the New Testament. To put it succinctly, the ancient Hebrew doesn’t really have a single word for our word repent. The closest equivalent is “to return” (the word teshuvah). In the ancient Greek, the word repent usually is conveyed with the word “metanoia.” This is usually is rendered a “change of mind.” Therefore, I think I’m on safe ground to say that if we look at the entirety of Scripture and what it communicates about repentance is that it is a change of mind that leads to a change in direction (to return). As a matter of fact, Jesus vividly portrays repentance in his parable of the prodigal son (or should it be called the “prodigal father?”). While in the far country, the prodigal “comes to his senses,” changes his mind (metanoia), and heads for home(teshuvah), and by an act of his father (forgiveness) is restored to his original position in the family (reconciliation).

So, what does all this word study and language references have to do with regret? I thought I would allow you to get a good snooze in before I find my punchline! The desired outcome of our expressions of regret is our response to grace. Many would think, and have said, we need to learn to “forgive ourselves.” My response to this assertion is that using the word “forgiveness” in response to ourselves keeps the whole process within our control, and we don’t have to suffer the indignity of receiving and accepting grace for our human failures which is ultimately where restoration can be found. So, in response to our regret, it isn’t forgiveness we need (since the person can’t provide it anyway), it’s the humility to accept the grace we have been provided to make the necessary changes for the living we are still among. The great, world-renowned philosopher Sylvester Stallone (just kidding of course) once said, “I have tons of regrets, but I think that’s one of the reasons that push people to create things. Out of their angst, their regret, comes the best from artists, painters and writers.” Ironically, I think Sly Stallone has stumbled on to a profound truth, and learned(probably) the hard way about regrets. He highlights for us just how essential they are for our future, not our past. Thankfully, we have been provided grace and forgiveness empowering us to become more like Christ through our journey with Him. The added benefit to that is that those around us reap the harvest of our willingness to accept the empowering grace to treat them differently in the future.

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Grief 2.0 – Feeling Lost

I find myself living in a strange warp in the “space-time continuum” as Dr. Everett Brown referred to in the movie, “Back to the Future.” In spite of the fact that what I am experiencing is nothing quite so disastrous or exciting, I am reminded again of theimages-2016-09-11-10-12.jpeg experience of so many who have lost someone they love. As the title to this post suggests, there is a sense of feeling lost. That doesn’t mean that I’ve lost my directions, and am not sure how to find my way home, but in many respects that is how the feeling of lostness is experienced. In more ways than one can count, the person who we love and lost is part of “home” for us. When they leave our lives, we, quite naturally, feel as if we have lost our direction. The overriding thought and even the feelings that accompany those thoughts is: What do I do now? There is a sense of confusion, disorientation, and even at times, urgency to restore “order.” We often take for granted how “ordered” our lives are, and the building blocks of that order are the people we love and count on to be part of that order. Everything else around us can be spiraling out of control, but if these people are still there and accessible, then usually we can handle most anything. Take one block out of that “house of order,” and it comes tumbling down. As most metaphors, this one breaks down at some point since we know that removing one brick is not going to bring down an entire house. Yet, our emotional houses (that part of our hearts) may not come tumbling down, but they are thrown into uncertainty and vulnerability. That uncertainty is enough to leave us feeling like everything is “falling apart.”

Another example of this is the game that is often played at picnics where the people are blindfolded and spun around. Once the blindfold is removed, they race to the other end of the “track” to either get some item to bring back, or complete some task. Of course, many hilarious videos have been produced at the sight of people “trying to get their bearings” in spite of their inability to re-establish their sense of balance. In many ways, that is how people who are grieving feel. They seemingly can’t get their bearings because an important part of their compass has been removed. In the above example, most people can’t help but try to move because they are motivated to win the race, and that’s when the fun begins. On the other hand, you often won’t see people stop and wait to get their orientation back, and then proceed with the race. The relationship to those grieving is that it feels as if life demands them to keep moving, and often this only increases the level of disorientation and confusion. Yet, if you are getting ahead of me you might ask, “Yeah, but I can’t just stop life and wait to get my bearings. I have to get things done, and I don’t have the luxury of waiting around.” My response would be, “Yes, of course, you’re right, but it may not have anything to do with what we actually do as much as it has to do with what we expect of ourselves when it come to coping with life.”

An important part of grieving well has less to do with “how” we navigate life, and more to do with “what” we expect of ourselves in terms of the quality of that navigation. Far too often, we make no adjustment to our expectations about our own level of functioning, therefore, we expect ourselves to function as if nothing has happened. If you were taken to the ER because you broke your arm, you would immediately be forced to adjust your expectations about how well you handle eating (particularly if the arm broken was your dominant hand). Unfortunately, the “wound” of grief doesn’t demand us to adapt like physical pain does. We can ignore it, or deny it and act as if nothing really happened. It’s pretty tough to ignore a broken arm. To grieve well requires us to learn new lessons of gentleness and grace with ourselves which demands an adjustment to our expectations about our performance in most anything. Everything will be affected… job, personal life, and any other arenas of life in which we are functioning. There are going to be good days, where we actually breathe a sign of relief and think the storm of grief as passed. It’s a divinely provided reprieve to be sure. But there will also be “bad” days where concentration is lost, productivity is depleted, and one would rather just crawl back into bed and wait for the next day. There are also “so-so” days. They aren’t stunningly good, and they aren’t devastatingly bad, and often these are the majority of days as the wound of grief heals.

This sense of lostness contributes, I believe, to what I’ve been feeling of late… connected disconnectedness. While that may sound terrible contradictory, allow me to explain. When someone we love dies, we are thrown into the whirlwind of activities and feelings that accompany those activities that simply blur our vision of what’s happening around us (and within us). When the swirl begins to slow down, and we begin to get our “bearings” back in terms of the world without our loved one in it, it’s as if we are passing through a world of people who are connected to us and us to them, but we also feel disconnected. If you’ve ever watched or read the Lord of the Rings, it’s as if we put on the Ring of Power and we pass through the world unseen and disconnected from it, and yet maintain our relationships with the important people of our lives. Any point in time, we can reconnect to the people in our lives, but still feels “surreal.” I can feel numb and dazed. I can feel “zombie-like” (which has new meaning since the series “The Walking Dead!). For many, these feelings simply don’t make sense. Of course, in order for something to make sense we have to have a reference point or something to which to compare it. Usually, our reference point is not a fixed point, though. Instead, our reference point floats in terms of where we are. In other words, the reference point is simply wherever we are not which results in us concluding that something is terribly wrong. Even for someone who knows this is happening, I still will struggle with feelings that I tell myself I shouldn’t be feeling since my mother-in-law wasn’t my blood relative. Then I have to remind myself that blood relationship has nothing to do with it. It’s the significance of the person to whom we are attached that matters. Period. Nothing else. No other explanation needs to be added to the “mix.”

The key and the challenge of grieving well is to learn to accept ourselves for where we are not where we “should” be with the assurance that the grief process will eventually come to an end… just not yet.

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Pat Williams Memory page

For new visitors to the website looking for Pat William’s memory page, it can be found under the menu item “Grieving the Loss of Someone You Love” or follow this link:

Pat Williams Memorial Page

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Grief 2.0 – Between a rock and a hard place

There is a lot about the grief and loss process that, for many Christ-followers, feels like being caught between a “rock and a hard place” as the old saw goes. Of course, when we lose someone we are often reminded of Paul’s decisive statement inUnknown-2016-08-25-10-41.jpeg 1 Corinthians when he says…”O death, where is your victory? O death, where is your sting?” Yet, for those left grieving this defines the “rock”… the fundamental truth that death will never have the “final” victory over God’s people, At the same time, there is the undeniable “hard place” of the sense of loss, the gaping hole left behind by the person, the profound sense of lostness that so many feel. Listening to many who spout off the truth, you would think that we should just shake off the grief and sense of loss, and proclaim the fact that there is no sting to the loss we have just experienced. My only answer to that conclusion(and it is a conclusion) is: tell that to Job. Job felt the sting of the death of his family, he felt the sting of the rejection of his wife who wished him dead, and he felt the sting of his friends spouting off their versions of why he got what he deserved. Yet, Job was not going to be denied. He pushed back on his friends, and proclaimed that he was not going to be silenced and he was going to voice his complaints to God without reservation or without editing for God’s audience. In my view, Job’s relationship with God was so intimate and so trusting that he couldn’t do anything but voice the raw, unadulterated truth of his soul, no matter how temporary it might be.

The truth of what Paul was proclaiming above is not negated by our grief. Our expressions of grief are never prohibited in Scripture. As a matter of fact, the Jewish culture has probably the most systematized process for the grieving/mourning process than most religious systems. The reality is that by the time we arrive at the 21st century, we are a long way away from a clear process for mourning. For most people, as one of my daughters said at the dinner table, “This is my first funeral. What’s going to happen?” In other words, most have no precedence for their grief, and we are certainly rarely “taught” how to grieve. Most people are under the impression that we proceed through a series of “stages” as we grieve, and that couldn’t be further from the truth. As a matter of fact, it’s more a matter of acclimating to our losses through a series of developmental tasks that we proceed through. Tasks like: to accept the reality of the loss, experiencing (which means the full experience – mentally, emotionally, and physically) the pain of the loss, adjusting to the new environment without the lost person, and reinvesting in the new reality. (“Tasks of Mourning”, Worden, 1991) These tasks are little like signposts for our journey through grief. I like to think of them as more like indicators of the “seasons of grief” we are passing through. With each season, there are identifiable tools we can use to “grieve well.”

The prevailing culture (Christian and secular) is generally unsupportive of those grieving, and through “its” discomfort it communicates to those grieving that they should get “over it” as quickly as possible. Of course, this leaves those grieving even more isolated and alone. It’s an unfortunate fact that 3-4 weeks after the loved one has died, the grieving are often forgotten. This is by no means an intentional thing, but our lives are so full, that the state of those mourning just “falls off our radar.”

It has often been said, that the first things authors (or speaker) writes, and the last things they write are often the most important. It seems fitting, then, that Pat was a central figure in the introduction to my book. The very woman whose loss I grieve today was the first person who took it upon herself to teach a grieving young boy how to accept the condolences of the well-wishers who came to his father’s funeral. That overwhelmed and numb little boy was me. I never forgot that relatively insignificant act of love to a little boy who had just been hit by an emotional freight train. As a matter of fact, Pat’s kind words that day are memorialized in my book on grief that has, much to my surprise, survived to this day after 23 years of being published. Her words echo through history, and her legacy has impacted thousands of unnamed people who benefit from those words of kindness. Her words were what propelled me into teaching about grief (I didn’t know that at the time), and writing a book about grief. I’m no expert when it comes to grieving. I just know it well enough to encourage those who are grieving that what they are experiencing is an important (and normal) part of their immense love for the person they have lost. Repeating the words of C.S. Lewis… “Twice in that life, I been given the choice, as a boy and as a man. The boy chose safety, the man chooses suffering. The pain now is part of the happiness then… that’s the deal.” (Shadowlands)

IMG_3669-2016-08-25-10-41.jpgGood bye, Pat Williams(Meme)… till we meet again. You lived life well, you lived life loved, and you lived life loving… you will be sorely missed. What a legacy you have left behind.

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Of confusion and being human

“It’s in the emptiness and even desperation of confusion where God might be found.”Unknown

My vantage point during our silent retreats is to have a “front row” seat watching what the Holy Spirit is doing in a variety of people’s lives. This is now my 8th year bringing students up to this retreat house, and presently we are in the midst of being snowed in(somewhere in the vicinity of 18 inches) at 6100 feet above sea level. It’s that heavy, wet snow that we often get during the two snowiest months for the Rocky Mountain region of March and April. Last year at this time, it was sunny and warm, and the students and myself spent most of our time outside reveling in the springtime warmth. Not this time around. We are more or less(for those intrepid enough to brave the snow) house-bound, and often left, as silence is wont to do, with ourselves and with God. Of course that was the purpose of the retreat, but often retreatants can find a myriad of ways(some quite creative I might add) to avoid a direct confrontation with the Holy Spirit just by involving themselves with outdoor activities.

During a retreat, I often describe the Holy Spirit’s activity as “movements.” When I’m here it seems that my eyes and ears are tuned for such movement as a person walking through a forest tunes his/her senses to catch any movement of a wild animal that might attack. In this case, it is often the movement of the Holy Spirit to “hijack” the participants’ agenda to get them(or me) to pay attention to something they have been avoiding for quite some time, and stands in the way of their(or my) relationship with Him.

During our evening debrief for the group, I said something(above) that apparently caught the attention of the students that were participating. In spite of the fact that a lot of what I say is not original or even mildly profound, I strive to capture what the mood or theme is as we are talking in the evening. It’s what I said last night that I want to try to expand and consider in this blog.

The mood of the conversation at the time was the frustration with feeling confused about what God wants from us in the face of two options. As often is the case with students (and with us no doubt) they were searching for the “right” option to take assuming that if they choose the “right” option then God would be pleased and they would be blessed. My comment, “Perhaps it is in the emptiness and desperation of confusion that God might be found” seemed to crackle into the conversation like a lightning bolt ruining a perfectly good picnic. The collected retreatants looked at me like they had been truly struck my lightning. I wasn’t sure at the time whether I should apologize for raining on the party, or just simply run for cover!

As western Christians, it seems to me that we often buy into the notion that any confusion that we might have must be resolved, and added to that demand, that we actually have the power to resolve the confusion. Therefore, confusion is intolerable, and betrays a lack of faith, or a lack of understanding in us and must be resolved with the utmost of speed. But, what if we are wrong? What if confusion is the point, and actually betrays that there is something we simply do not know. Granted, being the psychologist, I know that there is this tendency in us to demand consistency between what we believe and what we do — it’s referred to as cognitive dissonance. Yet, I find in myself this propensity to run from the confusion of not knowing something or some outcome because I have decided that I don’t want to trust God in the midst of that confusion, and figure out how to lean in on Him.

But, again, is resolving the confusion even the point? Could it be that by allowing the confusion to exist (not as if we can banish it with a mere flick of the wrist), we might actually find God there? Could it be that by living in the confusion we can grapple with what it is to be human (limited and finite as we are), and what it is to need God in it? Mind you, what I’m saying here isn’t God so that I can find a solution, but God just as He is, and me as I am, limited, confused, and in need. Of course, from a purely intellectual point of view, we could answer in the affirmative, theoretically. But, if we are going to be honest with what is really percolating in our hearts, the unequivocal answer, perhaps even the loud and demanding answer to those questions is: NO! I SIMPLY CAN’T RISK NOT KNOWING!

With this mindset comes the desperation I speak of. There is a growing desperation that Unknown-1seems to blossom in our hearts as the confusion begins to envelope us. It’s like the encroaching darkness as the sun goes down. First, there’s dusk and still an ability to see, but ever more profoundly the darkness surrounds and envelopes us to the point where we are reaching for our flashlights. Isn’t that just what we do with confusion when it strikes? I get more and more demanding with my trusty flashlight in hand that an answer is forthcoming. Yet, there is no immediately forthcoming answer, so in addition to our flashlight, we add our voice (“There must be something wrong, I hate this confusion and I must get an answer!) to our search trying to get the answer we so desperately desire.

So, what’s the alternative you ask? Surely there’s some formula or some strategy that can be used to resolve this dilemma. Of course, a statement like this betrays us because we have just entered another “room” with our flashlight… This time it’s the room of strategies and formulae! The problem with what we do with confusion starts with our fundamental rejection of the predicament we find ourselves in. That predicament is the problem of being human. It is remarkably easy to forget that we can’t know everything, and we can’t solve everything, and sooner or later we will come to the end of the questions, only to be faced with a choice — accept that I’m human and in need of an Abba to comfort me and walk with me through this confusion. Or, reject that I’m human and embark on a journey of anxiety and anguish pursuing the creation of an appearance of self-sufficiency and impenetrable competency.

Now, I’m not naive enough to think that as you read that last paragraph, that the thought didn’t occur to you, “Really? I’m reminded everyday that I’m human and limited, that’s exactly why I pursue the strategies I do to keep confusion to a minimum!” While that may be true, there are different levels of acceptance of the reality of our predicament. Predicaments are not a matter of resolution. Predicaments are a matter of learning to live with them. Realize that “learning to live with them” is not a celebratory, enthusiastic, “Yay, I’m excited to be human!” with a distinct hint of sarcasm and snarkiness added in. We will always live in and out of the acceptance of our limits. I accept that that is part of the predicament. Confusion is one of those states, though, that runs us headlong into this predicament, and forces again the decision of either I’m going to accept it first, then walk my way through it without shame, expectation or guilt (for being confused) with Christ and those safe people in my life who reflect Him to me. Or, I’m going to reject the predicament of being human, and seek to conquer and destroy the state of confusion I’m in.

As the animals in Narnia were prone to say, “Aslan’s on the move.” I get to say the same thing… God’s on the move here in Sedalia, Colorado, and I’m privileged beyond words to get to see what He has next for this group of companions who share the journey into His heart and the landscape of their own! More to come…

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The danger of silence

imagesAnother spring, another silent retreat for CCU students (and myself). As we met last night for the first night of the retreat, I was reminded once again of something that I often talk about with my students – the danger of silence. Of course, silence in and of itself isn’t dangerous unless we define what makes it dangerous, and what is the object of that danger.

Whenever I participate and lead one of these retreats, I am jarringly confronted with just how noisy my life is – teaching classes, talking to students, driving home with something on the radio, getting home to reviews of the day, and sitting down to grade papers with some news show or something playing in the background. About the only time that all is silent is when I’m not awake! Therefore, in so many ways silence is the Great Disruptor not so much by what it does, as much as it is by what it reveals about my world, both internal and external. The fact that it disrupts by its very presence constitutes the danger it poses. I mean, think about it. What in your life can you identify that truly disrupts your schedule, your perspective on life, and your focus on what appears to be so profoundly important? Usually, whatever we deem dangerous is dangerous by what it does, not by it’s very presence. A warrior will describe his opponent dangerous because of the opponent’s skill, or strength, or even experience. You will often hear commentators (with March Madness still in the rear view mirror – particularly for us Tar Heels fans – ugh) describe a team as dangerous because of their hunger and drive to win no matter what, or how well they were playing at a given time in the season. Yet, in all these cases, the opponent or teams have to step onto the field of battle or the court and test their skills in whatever the match or game is. It’s not as if the team (although some teams seems to assume this at times) just appears on the court, and the other team forfeits the game.

Ah, but silence. It just appears and we go scurrying for the exits. What a force with which to contend! We may not scurry for the exits physically, but we do so mentally and emotionally. We may not be able to defeat it, but we seek to do whatever we can to fill it in order to neutralize its effects on us. Silence is a lot like a candle in a dark room. Darkness just can’t fight the light back. Once there’s light, darkness flees. Once there is silence, the darkness in us is revealed, disrupted, confronted, and silence demands an answer… “What will you do with what you find there?”

So, what danger does silence pose? The first is the danger it poses to our sense of control . Silence, if we let it, will bring into clear focus how much effort we expend in keeping our worlds quietly and completely under our control. This control, while comforting, gets to be a cruel taskmaster over time because there are always new frontiers(and people) to control and prevent from upsetting the proverbial apple cart of our lives. Silence has a way of pulling back the veil of our lives (remember the Wizard of Oz? “Pay no attention to the man behind the curtain!) and compels us to look steadily at it. If that was all that it did, we might be able to remain in our denial, and minimize or rationalize the compulsion to control everything around us. But, silence doesn’t stop there. It seems when allowed to remain in it purest form, silence demands a decision about what is being revealed. Interestingly, God is often found in silence, and the Holy Spirit seems to use it to focus our attention as described above. In that kind of silence, it appears the question is: Will you trust me in this silence, and with your heart, or will you continue in your delusion that you can actually control everything in order to feel safe?

The second danger silence poses is its demand to choose between listening or talking. I have had too many people comment to me when I talk about the silent retreat that they could never do that because the silence would leave them with their own thoughts and compulsions, and they simply wouldn’t be able to handle that. The reality is that they choose the path of filling the silence with words, plans, dreams, and interpersonal drama to avoid what they might find if they simply listened. Listening and talking are mutually exclusive. In the journey into silence, we choose to move from talking to, at, or with God, to listening to him. Talking runs by my agenda and timing, and listening is “run” by God’s timing and agenda. Silence poses a danger to safe and shallow understanding of God and ourselves that keeps our worlds in order and “safe.” So, what if God doesn’t talk? Perhaps, it is in the silence that we have something to learn. Trust? Safety? Control? Unrecognized or denied wounds? A celebration we haven’t let ourselves experience? We have grown so accustomed to looking for something that is there, that we forget that by its absence there is something to be learned as well. When I am searching for an answer from God, and allow the silence to reign in my heart, and God doesn’t speak (or at least in the way that I’m looking for Him to speak), I assume that He doesn’t care, or He has abandoned me. Perhaps, what I don’t see is that in that silence God only wants me to sense HIM rather than demand an answer from Him.

The last danger (and I’m sure there are many more) that silence poses to us is the danger of disruption. By our very natures, we are people of patterns, rhythms, regularity, and predictability. We like our patterns, and more importantly we don’t like those patterns interrupted or disrupted. Earlier I referred to silence as the “Great Disruptor.” So, the question is what does silence disrupt? As I have explained earlier, silence is a force that simply cannot be ignored. It disrupts the patterns in my life that I cling to in order to assure myself that my world is “in order” and all is well with my soul. But, silence disrupts all that. It, if allowed, so rudely disrupts my pattern of assuming how life works, and demands that I about it with more intentionality and clarity. Probably the most insidious patterns I have are those that I maintain in how I think about myself, how I think about God, and how I think about other people. Allow me to take the most difficult one to examine – how I think about God which, of course, influences the other two. Because silence tends to focus my attention on what I think and assume about God, it is virtually impossible if I want to participate with it, to avoid what I see there. What wars with this clarity is usually my circumstances. My circumstances tempt me into a “yeah but…” game with God and with the assumptions I find in that silence. “God has abandoned me and will resist anything I attempt to accomplish” is a “yeah, but” statement. When things go south in my life, and begin to lose sight of what I know to be true, I will resort to, “Yeah, that may be true about God’s character, but look at what happening right now! There’s nothing to conclude that God can be in this! THEREFORE, God has abandoned me… I’m sure you get the picture. But, enter silence – the great Disruptor. It quietly(of course it’s silence!) whispers, “So what are you going to choose to live your life on? The lies you believe, or the truth you know to be true but doesn’t feel that way at the moment?” Ouch… Okay…. You’ve got my attention. Geez. Up until that point in time, I’m not entertaining such questions because I have cultivated my busyness in order to not have to ask those questions.

As difficult as it may be from afar, I invite you to join me in this retreat this year. I will make every effort to “log” the movements of the retreat from our current location. Pay attention to your own heart as read my reflections from the retreat to see what God has for you even if you’re not in a place where silence can disrupt you. Perhaps, use your readings (in silence) to train your “inner spiritual ear” to the movements of the Spirit in your own heart. Welcome to the journey!

Posted in CCU Silent Retreats, Redemptive Community | Tagged , , , , , , , | 1 Comment

Words, words, words

fishhookI often make the comment that, “words matter.” You’re probably saying (in your head), “Way to go, Captain Obvious! You appear to have a firm grasp on reality.” I don’t say that because I’m kind of a geek about words and what they mean, but because words have an immensely powerful impact on our relationships with one another, and with ourselves. As I have said in past posts, words “frame” our understanding of the world around us, and even within us. We often live in our own little fantasy land of “shoulds” and “could be’s” that allow us to shape reality according to our purposes – which is usually to do what we want to do without consequences. For example, I may perform a task (fill-in the blank here), and when I don’t perform according to my exacting standards, I begin a ruthless and unforgiving rant about what a failure I am. Unfortunately, the bar always rises higher than what I have accomplished, thereby making me always a “failure.” Of course, the moment that I label myself a failure (“failure” is a trait, “failed or failing” is a matter of performance) then only failure will be what will be produced into the future. Almost instantaneously, it becomes a self-fulfilling prophecy producing the same results over and over again.

Now, I don’t want you to conclude that if you just change a few words, then everything will change. Hardly. But it’s important to remember that we have been engaged in an active program of indoctrination for a very long time without any resistance to the ongoing commentary and monologue that going on in our heads. Resistance? What does resistance mean? Actually it’s pretty simple, but incredibly difficult to do mostly because we want to extinguish the commentator (a little like judge, jury and executioner) rather than inject doubt into his/her assertions about our failure. What’s crazy is that it is two very simple words… “maybe not.” That sounds incredibly powerful, right? (I’m being facetious, of course) Sometimes, okay maybe often, we overlook the more obvious things that would make a tremendous difference in how we can change things. We (I) get ourselves convinced that I have to “stop” something from happening to get things to be better rather than building up another area in our lives that will make that struggle less powerful in our internal commentary. Ironically, when I take this “maybe not” approach, the commentary gets less and less powerful because it has been invalidated rather than completely “shut down.” Of course, the “shut down” approach is simply applying the same approach that we have used in all the other situations which only makes me more of a failure. If I keep doing the same thing over and over again, I will keep getting what I’ve always gotten.

Wow! I realize that the above paragraphs are a very long “set-up” for what was really rolling around in my head about the power of words. However, the table needed to be set before we move into the next “course.”

Another aspect of words with which I have recently been struck is the nature of what we do with them. You might be thinking, “What we do with them? Don’t we use them to convey our thoughts, beliefs, feelings and stuff like that?” Yes, we do, but there’s more about our use of words which we need to be aware. The reality is that I can use words to convey meaning and to reflect the state of my thoughts to others. It needs to be said (a little psychology “weeds” for a moment) that words in the purest sense are symbols for something else. The hieroglyphics in Egypt are “words” except that they are pictures of what was meant at the time. Over the course of time, humans have developed more and more economical ways to communicate meaning which has eventually resulted in alphabets and language and exceedingly complex communications. The result of this “evolution” of language is that words carrying meaning, and we depend on them to do so. In the purest of our relationships with others, words have meaning and they convey important things about ourselves that others simply wouldn’t have unless we revealed them through words. In many ways, that is exactly how words should be used – to carry specific, clear, and truthful information about whatever the topic.

Unfortunately, there is another way words are used that is equally important to recognize. Actually the reality of words is contained in the last sentence. Instead of being “used” to convey meaning and revealing the truth about ourselves to others, they can also be “used” to hide who we really are, and can be “used” as a trade. Let me put this into a relationship in order to make it clearer. If I’m talking to someone and I’m describing how I feel to him/her, I have a choice to either describe what actually is, or I will “use” words to trade with that person for something of value to me – like closeness and intimacy. Therefore, in that case, I will say something that will draw him/her closer, and they will respond. The hitch in all that is that the words I use may or may not be truthful about how I’m actually feeling. For the person who uses words functionally to accomplish some end that he/she desires, the truthfulness of the words he uses doesn’t really matter. In this case, words are used to accomplish something rather than reveal the truth.

I often have people ask me how they know whether or not they are part of an unhealthy relationship. One way to figure that out is the role that words play in that relationship. The complication is that people don’t purely use words to manipulate outcome, or purely to convey truth. They do both, and it’s up to us to figure out which is which. I once heard Rick Warren (Senior pastor at Saddleback Church in Mission Viejo, CA) say something that is applicable here. He said, “ A half truth is a whole lie.” The bottom line is that we can use our words to convey truth, or we can use our words to manipulate to get what we want. In an unhealthy relationship, words are “traded” for some future desired outcome. They may or may not be an accurate reflection of truth. In many ways, it doesn’t matter to the person “using” words like that. The only measure of the so-called “veracity” of the words he uses is whether it accomplishes the ends he desires.

In healthier relationships, words matter. Words convey meaning that are binding to the person using them. They are not used to trade for some commodity. They are meant to reflect reality even though we can’t seem to find adequate words to do that. Now, that doesn’t mean that when people are true to themselves and communicate that to me, that I will respond in kind and it draws us closer. But, it isn’t an “if…then” thing. In other words, a person who uses words to manipulate reasons using the “if… then.” An guy may think, “If I say something nice to her, then she will respond to me the way I want her to.” Unfortunately, that state of affairs is what I see way too often in young adult relationships to which I am a witness on CCU’s campus among other places. Words are used to accomplish some end. Words aren’t use to reflect something essential about ourselves with an invitation to the other person to do the same. It’s an invitation, not a demand. If we have any hope of having healthy, Godly relationships, then we must seek to institute what God has in His relationship with us. He invites us into relationship, it’s not a demand. Freedom is the key. If we respond, we do so out of freedom not obligation. If we don’t respond (which is equally available to us although not as beneficial), we suffer the consequences accordingly. We must do the same in our relationships with others. It’s important that we develop the language of freedom and invitation rather than demand and manipulation. Is it risky? Of course, because then the person has the freedom to say “no!” But, the depth and beauty of the relationship grows in freedom not in demand and manipulation. If someone has the freedom to say “no,” then the same person has the freedom to say “yes.” And when important people in our lives do say “yes” it means so much more because they have truly chosen freely.

Words words, words… words have the power to free and the power to enslave. If you want to know where you land on that point, watch your behavior, not your rhetoric. If you really want to know where you land, ask people you interact with regularly and see what they say (as long as you give them the freedom to be honest without retribution or punishment). There is a spiritual reality here that anchors the temporal reality that we experience everyday. Words are probably the most powerful weapon we have in our arsenal. How will you use them?

Posted in Family Life, Forgiveness & Reconciliation, Masculinity/Manhood, Redemptive Community, Relationship with God | Tagged , , , , , | 1 Comment

Grief 2.0 – Acceptance

There probably no more debated and resisted subject of discussion within grieving than acceptance. Because of this, allow me to focus specifically on the area of grief first, and then later I’ll look at this subject in other areas of living.

So, what exactly does acceptance have to do with grief? Before, answering that question, we need to spend some time exploding some myths that have grown up around the use of imagesthis word. Amongst all the people that I have had the opportunity to talk, this word is probably the most vexing. In most peoples’ minds, acceptance is a synonym for approval. In other words, in order to accept something, or some state of affairs (e.g., the loss of someone we love) means to approve of what happened or even condone it. So, when I lose someone to death, I am often told by the various approaches to grief that I will eventually come to a place of acceptance of the person’s absence and death. Of course, this being said to someone who has freshly experienced this loss is downright cruel. The people who say something like this are usually uncomfortable with the intense feelings that come along with loss, and therefore are searching for something comforting or profound to say, so they uncork this little jewel of wisdom. The worse part about this phrase is the fact that there is a germ of truth to it. Indeed, in time, this acceptance will come into one’s experience of loss … just not yet. The problem that most people have is captured in the phrase “in time.” That doesn’t mean, “time heals all wounds,” but it does mean that I do need some time to continue to process and work through my grief in order to come to this place of acceptance. Therefore, acceptance isn’t approval. Acceptance isn’t condoning of what has happened. Acceptance is learning to live with the reality of what has happened. This word, “reality” is so much bigger than word conveys. The small nooks and crannies of “reality” simply can’t be anticipated. Acceptance is experiencing the profound sense of absence during anniversaries and special moments that were usually shared with the person.

One of the most frequently asked question with this idea of acceptance is, “Yeah, but what do I do to accept something?” The emphasis here is the basis of the question. There must be something I can “do” to accept this reality by the force of will. Without confronting our definitions of acceptance, it really doesn’t matter (mentioned above). Our beliefs control our reactions and decisions about this idea of acceptance. If I fundamentally believe that acceptance is approving of what has happened, then the answer to that question is, “Nothing, you’ve already decided your response.” On the other hand, if I have been able to jar loose my belief about acceptance, then the question may be asked in a different way. It may be asked instead, “what do I have to cultivate to develop acceptance in my life?” Now that is a different thing entirely. Instead of talking about lists of things to do to accomplish acceptance in our lives, we are now talking about a lifelong process of seeding the soil of our hearts with trust, obedience, and a willingness to risk failure.

Let me start with trust. I am often heard saying in many of my classes that, “trust and control can’t coexist.” If I trust someone, then I am letting go of my bent to control them. What exactly does that mean though? Whenever we think of a “controlling person” we tend to think of someone who is overtly controlling — doesn’t take “no” for an answer, expects others to do it the way that he/she does it, or is just overbearing and dominant. What we miss in that way of thinking about controlling behavior, is that we miss looking at the “covert” controlling behaviors in which many of us engage. What’s covert, you ask? Well, if I tell you I’d have to kill you… just kidding — I couldn’t resist. Covert ways of controlling others is usually seen in how we think instead of what we do. In other words, our tendency is to play out the scenario in our heads about how some situation is going to go down including what the other person is going to say, and fashion our response on that little gaming scenario in our heads. The other person, of course, has no opportunity to respond in real time. We are interacting with the person in our heads rather than in reality. It is on this basis that we construct what we do. The additional piece of this puzzle is all the effort that is directed toward withholding behaviors that would give the other person an opportunity to react. In other words, we manage others’ reactions to us by not saying what we really mean or feel. Thereby assuring ourselves the outcome we desire. The key to remember here is that controlling behavior is all about the outcome that is desired, not the process that it takes to get there.

So, in light of cultivating a spirit of acceptance in our hearts, rejecting our attempts and grand schemes of controlling the world around us is planting a seed of trust. I am not suggesting for anyone to be gullible or ridiculously vulnerable. We still need to use our common sense in order to discern when it is safe to trust because there are many times where that is simply not true — it is not safe to openly trust. But, with all those qualifications out of the way, trusting what God is up to, and His character in the face of the evidence before us is the “stuff” that acceptance is made of. Far from easy, I more than realize the difficulty, since this has been an area of my own wrestling and struggle. It often takes more discernment than most have, but that doesn’t remove it from the areas that we cultivate if we are going to have a willingness to accept the way things really are authentically and with integrity. Accepting things as they really are authentically means that I make no efforts to diminish the importance of what has happened, and neither do I attempt to inflate it’s importance either. It’s living with the reality that confronts me (e.g., a loss, or a flaw that I see in myself) without pride or shame. I don’t make it more than it is, and I don’t make it less than it is.

How about obedience? What does that have to do with acceptance? After all, one might reason, obedience is about a list of things to do, right? Well, actually, one can’t have obedience without trust. Actually, we can obey, but not trust. But, that kind of obedience is not really obedience at all because it is coerced. It certainly looks like obedience, if we focus on the behaviors, but it doesn’t reveal the heart behind it which is guarded and protected. The kind of obedience I’m speaking of here is an obedience that is birthed out of trust and even hope. In spite of the fact that I can’t see the future of what might happen if I obey, I do so anyway because I trust the heart of the one asking me to “obey” or follow his/her instruction. That’s what I mean that trust is the central concept of obedience, and acceptance. I might not accept the trusted person’s view of reality, but I do trust him enough to follow his/her direction. That’s the stuff of the obedience God desires from us. As a matter of fact, in the Old Testament, He spoke of a day when His people would respond from their hearts instead of the avoidance of punishment in the Law when He said to the prophet Jeremiah,
“This is the covenant I will make with the people of Israel
after that time,” declares the Lord.
“I will put my law in their minds
and write it on their hearts.
I will be their God,
and they will be my people.” (Jer. 31:33)

This is not a coerced obedience… this is an obedience that is borne out of love and, by implication, trust.

Okay, one last one… risking failure. Of course, this topic could take an entire post worth of consideration. Yet, when it comes to acceptance, the crowning obstacle is risking failure. Again, as so many times before, one must define our terms here. What exactly is failure? When it comes to acceptance, is it even possible to fail? Of course, the answer to the last question is, “yes!” Yes, one can resist acceptance by living in denial and refusing to adapt to the changing reality in which he or she is living. Many people have done that, and will continue to do so. However, if we want to cultivate acceptance in our lives, it requires a willingness to live with falling short not failure. The moment we cast this into “all-or-nothing” terms will be when we refuse to adapt and accept the reality we have. Everything else we do, short of denial is part of the journey of acceptance. When I actually accept the reality in which I find myself, and trust another to help me, and even obey his/her direction even if I can’t see the outcome, then falling short will always be a risk. The bottom line is that there is no trust, or obedience without risk. When we try to remove risk we are also removing the opportunity for growth and even intimacy (with God and others). The reality is that when we are hard pressed, that’s a pretty easy trade until we review and look back and suffer some measure of regret over what we may have missed. It happens to everyone. It’s the plague of being human, limited, and bent on controlling our world so that we don’t suffer any further losses. When our agenda is to reduce our losses (no matter what kind – losing a person to death, or losing a relationship, or losing our sense of competence), we will not attempt such things as acceptance, trust, obedience, and even risking failure. It’s a defensive way to live life (like defense in football), rather than an “offensive” way of living life. It’s the difference between engaging life and allowing it to happen to us.

All of this is exactly why acceptance is so important. It assails our need to be in control, and pushes us to once again practice trust. Acceptance isn’t a demand on us. It’s an invitation to intimacy. One last thought. Think about the reconciliation on the road between the father and the prodigal son in the story Jesus told. Imagine for a moment how that reunion would have went if the father hadn’t accepted his son. Taking one look at him, said to his servants, “get this kid cleaned up!” That reunion is a powerful picture of what acceptance looks like. Was the father in denial of his son’s condition? Of course not. After all, he surveyed the boy, and said instead of “get this kid clean,” he said, “cover up his filth with my finest robe (probably the father’s), and restore him to his position as my son with a ring, and most importantly give him some shoes to wear.” I daresay if the father had been in denial somehow about his son, he wouldn’t have been nearly as detailed as he was about what needed to be “covered.” That is not only a picture of what we are to do with others, but also what we are to do with ourselves. Rejecting and condemning ourselves is only more law in our hearts. Accepting the grace that is given us, and treating ourselves with that grace describes the path of acceptance that empowers us to do the same for others.

Posted in Forgiveness & Reconciliation, Grief and Grieving, Redemptive Community | Tagged , , , , , | Leave a comment

Judge, jury, and executioner: A modern parable (pt. 2)

Gayle sat in the chair to my right, and beyond her was the Sheriff’s deputy who we found out was named Jerry.  He sat down rather uncomfortably adjusting his sidearm so he could sit in the chair.  Once everyone was seated, the judge cleared his throat to indicate it was time to begin, and looked at the people gathered before him.judge_jury_executioner badge

“Well, you’re all probably wondering why I asked for this conference, especially you, Greg.” Greg looked up at the judge still white as a sheet.
“Let’s review the facts of the case which both you, Gayle, and Jerry should have gotten by email.”  They both nodded looking straight at the judge.  Neither of them had made any eye contact with Greg, and seemed to ignore him altogether.  I was beginning to get a little irritated for my friend since he, at least, deserved to be recognized for coming at all.

The judge continued, “We are here to consider the case of Greg Smith and the many failings he has exhibited over the last 20 or so years of his short, pathetic life.”  Finally, with the pronouncement of the last phrase both Jerry and Gayle turned on my friend, and looked at him as if he was some lower life form not deserving to live any longer.

For my part, I was completely taken off guard by what the judge said at the end of his statement.  I was expecting something more professional, sterile, even clinical in his description of the charges against Greg.  But, there was nothing of the kind.  It was completely subjective and incredibly degrading even ruthless.  If you’ve ever been in a courtroom you will understand what I mean when I say that I was a bit hesitant to object to the judge’s wording of his so-called “charges” against Greg.  I mean, after all, judges have the final say, right.  Needless to say, I was getting a little (okay, a lot) uncomfortable about what was going to come next.

Additionally, I was heart-broken for my friend, and as I looked over at him, he seemed to be shrinking in size as the proceedings continued.  His head hung lower and lower, and he didn’t utter any defense of himself.  It appeared that he had resigned himself to what was coming, and was bracing himself to “take it.”

“So, let me continue,” the judge said as he began to look over a ream of paper.  “So, Greg, do you remember when your brother was playing out in the street, and you didn’t protect him from almost getting hit by a car?”  Greg nodded slowly as if he was struggling to remember the incident.  He looked up, and said weakly, “yeah, but that was at least 10 years ago, and he didn’t get hit did he?”

“Did I ask for your defense?”  DID I???” the judged hissed.

“No your honor,” Greg said duly chastised.

“Let’s continue…” the judge cleared his throat once again.  “Also, there has been a clear, and definable pattern of behavior by Mr. Smith to let people down in his life by pursuing his own needs and desires.  As a matter of fact, he appears to be driven to make sure that people understand that he is better than them.  Sometimes he will do this by acting like he is so humble and undeserving of their attention or applause, yet secretly he has nurtured the belief that he deserves their accolades, and this serves to fuel his infantile fury that he isn’t getting the attention he deserves.  On the other hand, he will also pressure himself into performing better than anyone else, and cultivates the pattern of behavior that is designed for people to notice and applaud him.

I shifted uncomfortably in my chair, and looked around to see what the other players is this cruel drama were doing.  Jerry and Gayle seemed completely disengaged and were only intent on staring daggers into the back of Greg’s head since it was almost in his lap.  I finally couldn’t take anymore of this mountain of insults, remembrances of failure and incompetence, so it was my turn to clear my throat and raised my hand rather timidly.

The judge turned his lethal attention on me, and looked at me as if I had just committed a cardinal sin of some sort.  “What do you want?” he said through his clenched teeth.

“Uh, judge, I’m a little confused (unfortunately I wasn’t being very articulate or convincing).  This seems to be a cruel, hellish version of “This is your life.”  I don’t see how any of this matters in a court of law.  This list you have are the kind of stuff that can only be known by people closest to Greg, and even only him.  How is it that you can do this?”

The judge resettled into his chair, sat up straighter, cast a withering look at me and said, “You are only displaying your ignorance about such things, Mr….?  Do you have a name?”

Before I could answer, he continued, “oh, it doesn’t matter, you’re only here because Mr. Smith decided he wanted one more person to listen to his list of failings.  I can’t for the life of me understand why, but so be it.  Just for your satisfaction, we have been supplied this information by Greg himself.”

For the next hour, the judge continued to go down the list of Greg’s shortcomings, failures, and examples of his incompetence both socially and emotionally.  He recounted old relationships, opportunities to perform both athletically and interpersonally at high levels that were “less than stellar,” grades in school, and concluded during the last paragraph with instances even in the last week that Greg had done at missing a deadline at work, and ignoring the new receptionist who was clearly lonely and needed some encouragement.

When he stopped the silence was stifling, and felt like a load of emotional garbage had just gotten dumped into the room.  All the while this was going on, Jerry and Gayle seemed to be waiting for something and eagerly soaking up the beat down Greg was experiencing at the hands of the judge.  He looked around, and then looked at Gayle first, and nodded.  “Gayle you have anything to add?”

Gayle looked at Greg with the kind of loathing that I had never seen between people before except maybe in the movies, but who believes that would be possible?  But, here it was, and it was breath-taking.  She finally spoke, “Since I am a member of this jury, judge, and I would be considered the “fore-woman” of the jury with the responsibility to speak for the jury, I’ll save you some time.  I find Greg Smith guilty of and forever branded as a man who will “never be enough” for anyone.  His ongoing and continued pattern of selfishness, ignorance, and stupidity garner for him this sentence.”  She looked at the judge and nodded with satisfaction.

“Jerry?” the judge nodded to the deputy.  Jerry, much like Gayle, looked at the judge with a frightening level of smugness and self-righteousness, and said, “Well, given the sentence pronounced by the jury represented here by Gayle, it is my duty (and desire I might add) to inflict judgment and on Mr. Smith.  I will gladly take on the job to accompany Mr. Smith wherever he goes and remind him on an hourly basis of all that is held against him.”

“How the heck are you going to do that?” I had just had about enough of this charade of a trial, and had decided that if Greg wasn’t going to speak up for himself, I would for him.


While the deputy and Gayle were talking, I noticed the judge rummaging around in a drawer of his desk, and then finally pulled out another legal sized folder and laid it on his desk.

“Yes, that is right, deputy.”  He locked his gaze on me, and said, “Tell me again your last name.  Wait, isn’t your last name Riordan?  Yes, of course it is.  I thought I recognized you, and sure enough I have a file right here with your name on it Mr. Scott Riordan.”

Have you ever been driving on the highway, and suddenly a set of red and blue lights appear in your rear-view mirror?  It is all you can do to keep your heart from leaping out of your chest  into your throat until the lights pass you and head into the traffic in front of you.  That was how I felt at that moment.  Questions flew into my head like, “How did he get that?  Or, who told him?”  At that moment, I knew that I had nowhere to go to help my friend, or I would be the next one on trial and I didn’t’ think I was ready for that.  I had a choice to make either protect my friend and face my own trial, or be quiet.

While I was mulling over my options, Greg looked at me with tears in his eyes, and said, “Scott, don’t sweat it.  It’s okay.  They’re right, and there’s nothing you can do.  There’s nothing I can do.  I will never be enough, and the judgment has already been made.  It’s just the way it is.”

The judge got up from his massive chair, and moved to the front of the desk.  He looked at the deputy and nodded.  Immediately the deputy left the room, and returned with a silver case, and snapped open the clasps of the case.  Inside, he pulled out what looked like a massive syringe that was made for a horse, but at the end was a hollow tip with what looked like a multi-pronged cylinder with a small light blinking.

“Get up!” the judged shouted at Greg.

“Wait, wait, what the heck is going on?” I shouted trying to slow down what looked like was going to happen no matter what I did.  “What is that thing?”

“Given Greg’s sentence by the jury, and carried out by Mr. Jerry here, he will be implanted with a small device that will be lodged at the base of his skull.  It really doesn’t hurt that much, but it will repeat over and over in Greg’s thoughts (I know it sounds weird, but I was beginning to believe anything was possible at this point) all the failures, losses, ignorance, incompetence, his inability to perform at satisfactory levels so that he will never forget the sentence pronounced on him today, NOT ENOUGH!“

As I began to shake my head and scream, “WAIT!  WAIT!” I felt my shoulder being shaken over and over again, and in the distance I heard someone saying, “Scott, wake up!  WAKE UP!”  It was at that moment I realized that I had been sleeping and opened my eyes.  There was Greg stifling a smile as he seemed to be amused at my nightmare.  “Dude, what the heck were you dreaming?  Wait, wait for what??”

“Nothing, never mind… I must have fallen asleep when I got home from work.  I didn’t think I was that tired. “


As frightening as a situation like this would be (in spite of how improbable), it happens every day in many (if not all) of us.  We all fight with the lurking, and what seems to be, the undeniable sentence of judgment on ourselves that we are simply not enough.  Why is it that we feel so compelled to forgive ourselves?  We have become our own “judge, jury, and executioner” who are equipped with all the worst “inside” information they can have with which to convict us.  We have an internal “kangaroo court” designed to pronounce this judgment no matter how competent, “perfect,” or high-performing we might be.  In the posts to follow, we will endeavor to journey into the origins of such a court of condemnation, and consider patterns or principles we can practice to mute the voices of our judge, jury, and executioner.

Posted in Forgiveness & Reconciliation, Masculinity/Manhood, Redemptive Community | Tagged , , , , , | Leave a comment