A Wounded Young Man

Pastor Joe Herd and I spoke at a local religious school this morning to a group of junior high students. The topic was “race”. We shared the usual truth. The Scripture – AND SCIENCE – both state that beneath the surface, we are all simply human. Not only does Paul say that “God made us all from one blood…” [Acts 17:26] but the Genome Project has confirmed that “race” is simply not a scientific category – underneath the surface, in our DNA, we aren’t red, yellow, black or white – we are people. Then we talked about our unity in Jesus, the fact that He came to “break down” the walls that have divided us – every one of them – in and through His death on a cross [Eph. 2:11-22]. So in Jesus, we are “neither Greek nor Jew, circumcised or uncircumcised, barbarian, Scythian, slave or free…but Christ is all and in all.” [Col. 3:11]

“So”, we said to the students, “intellectually and spiritually – race, skin-color, ethnicity isn’t a reasonable way to judge another human being. It’s all surface. Character is individual. No one can say, “All white people are…” or “All black people are…” – because it just isn’t true – scientifically or biblically. And we told the students that until we “get this” – we are all at risk in every culture, everywhere, all over the world. The Yugoslavians turned on each other several decades ago and slaughtered thousands of their own over race and religion and ethnicity. By now, the Rwandan genocide which resulted from the rift between the Hutus and the Tutsis is infamous world-wide. The “rape of Nanking” which occurred in the 1930’s was only the most atrocious and abhorrent of the incidents between Chinese and Japanese which were the result of centuries of hatred. Dr. King said about our own situation in America, at the close of the racially oppressive long dark night of Jim Crow – “Either we learn to live together as brothers or we perish together as fools.” And of course, since these racial and national wounds are reflective of a myriad of other relational wounds – between families and mothers and sons and daughters and dads and husbands and wives and friends and neighbors and colleagues – and since these relational wounds are our deepest wounds of all – ALL of us are looking for relief! Is there any hope? We told the students that only in Jesus do we have hope of healing – and if the church doesn’t deal with its racial stuff – the world has NO picture of whether this healing can ever happen – in reality – at all. We can talk all we want about the healing power of Jesus – but if we live divided by race or whatever – our words have no power. No meaning. No reality.

Now, to the point. At the end of our session we asked for comments or questions…and one young man raised his hand and told us how his mother was white and his father was black and how his grandparents have never accepted him and have made him feel unwanted and how he didn’t even like to go their home anymore. The look on this young man’s face, his very countenance…broke my heart. First I wanted to cry. Then I wanted to go beat the hell out of somebody. Of course, Joe and I gathered ourselves and ministered to the young man and told him how proud we were that he had the courage to speak about his wound and how he was loved by God and how God might begin to heal his wound as he poured it out to Him…and maybe even give him strength to love his grandma in spite of the rejection. And then the bell rang and our time was over and we had to move on. But I can’t. And I keep asking myself this afternoon…over and over and over…what will it take for us to come to our senses? What has to happen – how many people have to die around the world until we recognize the lie of the enemy that divides us and perpetrates hatred? HOW MANY 12 YEAR OLD YOUNG MEN HAVE TO GROW UP WITH WOUNDED HEARTS AND DECIMATED SOULS BECAUSE WE REFUSE TO DEAL WITH OUR RACIAL BAGGAGE AND CALL OUR STEREOTYPES AND PREJUDICE AND JUDGMENTS AND FUNNY LOOKS WHAT THEY REALLY ARE – RACISM FROM HELL. And when will we send it back to hell where it came from so that we can become the multifaceted, deeply rich and beautiful diamond we were created to be? When will we stop prostituting Jesus Christ on the altar of our old, racial baggage and wound? When will we stop living like hypocrites – pretending to follow the real Jesus of Nazareth when really we’re worshipping at the altar of some modern-day racist Baal?

May God give this young, wounded brother much, much grace for his future. May our God redeem this young man’s pain. May He literally work out this racist crap for this young man’s ultimate good – and for the good of those he touches over the years. For Jesus’ sake…amen.

It's a dance . . .

Melissa Rumrill is a beautiful young daughter of God who is serving a prison sentence. It is amazing to watch and feel how her Abba Father is using an incredibly difficult experience to draw her close to Himself. Recently, she wrote me a letter and in the letter she paints a picture of her relationship with God that is so deep and powerful that I had to share it.

“Kevin, I’m so blessed in prison. I spend virtually all day in prayer, in the Word, being a witness for Christ. I am definitely learning how to live by the Spirit and keep in step with the Spirit. To truly keep in step – to me – is illustrated perfectly like this:

When I was a little girl, my dad took me to our town’s annual daddy-daughter dance around Valentine’s Day. I didn’t necessarily know how to dance, but I knew my dad did and he would show me how – I was so eager to learn! So when the very first song came on – usually a slow song – I’d put my little feet on top of his and I’d wrap my arms tightly around him and [because I was so short and tiny compared to him] I would tilt my head back and just gaze up at him in awe. I felt such an intense joy that I didn’t even notice when other people bumped into me – nothing could take my focus away from my father’s face. It was always really packed, so people would accidentally run into others – stepping on toes, knocking others out of rhythm, but not me – I could not be moved. People would bump us, but my dad had me wrapped up in his embrace so nothing could separate us. Nobody ever hut me by stepping on my toes because, as they rested on my father’s shoes, they were always protected, and no amount of commotion caused us to fall out of step with one another because essentially we were one – he was leading our steps. I recognized that I clearly could not be the leader, so I willingly trusted him to guide me, and even in the midst of the chaos on the dance floor, I loved my dad so much that I refused to take my eyes off of him. Although I’m a grown woman now, I’m learning to keep in step with the Spirit of God, my Heavenly Father. As a daughter of the King, I’m learning to stand on the solid rock of Christ, to keep my focus fixed and my gaze upward to heaven, to cling to the tree on which Jesus bore my sins [I Peter 2:24] and gave to me His righteousness, to walk in His ways so as to ensure that I will not be moved [Psalm 15].”

Thanks, Melissa. May we all, today, keep our eyes on our Father, who has us in His embrace and allows us to stand on His feet as we dance with Him through life.

Comparison

Comparing ourselves with others doesn’t work. It makes us say, “He or she is blessed in this way or that way while I have been left out and am obviously not worthy of the same.” Comparing leads to resentment of our brother or sister and also resentment of God – who is the One who decided to bless our brother or sister in the first place.

This is so clear in the parable of the Prodigal Son in Luke 15 [and explained so well by Henri Nouwen in his, “Return of the Prodigal Son”.] When the younger brother comes home after his long, rebellious and scandalous journey…the Father welcomes him with the robe and ring of honor, sandals befitting a special son and kills the fatted calf reserved for the most special of occasions. The older brother sees the attention, sees the blessing and is jealous and resentful. He won’t allow himself to be happy for his brother’s repentance or renewed intimacy with his Father. All the older brother can see is the blessing on the younger son in comparison with what he feels has been his personal blessing from his Father. He is consumed by these thoughts of comparison.

“My Father plays favorites. My Father doesn’t love me as much as he does my brother. He has never killed a fatted calf for me. And in fact, my younger brother hasn’t lived the dutiful, obedient life I have lived. If anyone deserves special blessing, it is me! I’ve done all the right things – but my Father doesn’t even notice. It isn’t fair. Life isn’t fair. My Father isn’t fair. I hate my brother, I can’t be close to my Father – and until this changes, I am not going to have any joy in my life. I’m staying right here, outside the party, until someone gives me what I deserve.”

Sound familiar? You may not have gone this far in your thinking…but if you are living your life comparing yourself with others, you are on your way. Why not bow your knee before your Heavenly Father and ask Him first for forgiveness for doubting His love. Then ask for eyes to see that “all that He has is yours”. Finally, ask Him for courage to rejoice in His blessing of your brothers and sisters – and the sense to be thankful for His own unique blessing on your life. Oh, and please pray that I can do the same.

Shame

In the 90’s, Atlantic Monthly devoted an entire issue to the subject of “shame”. They referred to shame as the most powerful and pervasive emotion “of our day”. Strong words. Here we are in 2010 and I would say that shame is still alive, well, pervasive and incredibly debilitating. Shame is the feeling, not that “I have done a wrong thing…but I AM a wrong thing.” Shame is present when we find ourselves listening to an inner voice of contempt that tells us we aren’t good enough, that we have never been good enough, that we never will be good enough…that no matter how hard we try, we will always be “different, less than, hopelessly deformed” in comparison with other human beings. We are not pretty enough, talented enough, smart enough…that practice as we might, we will always fall short of the standard of “normal”. Shame is not guilt. Guilt can be forgiven. The only antidote for shame is that we become non-existent.

Shame is so strong that it turns us into “egomaniacs with an inferiority complex.” Shame is all-encompassing. It penetrates every crevasse of our psyche and creates such deep emptiness and wound that all we can think about is ourselves…we have no fullness of spirit out of which to love anyone else. Shame is depressing. Shame is de-motivating. Shame makes us feel like crawling in a whole…and dying.

Is there an antidote for shame? Psalm 34:5 says, “They looked to Him and were radiant…and their faces were not ashamed.” If we will give ourselves permission to grieve our wounds and losses that began to speak the shame to us to begin with [we were NOT born with this shame!] – we will begin to hear ever so faintly a voice in the distance…calling us “the beloved.” This grieving takes time and it can feel like peeling the layers of an onion. The shame inducing losses that need to be grieved can be from our distant past [many of them are] – or from events and relationships and experiences in our every day lives in the present. [I have even felt “shame” after giving a talk on “shame”!!] But these losses must be grieved…eventually the circumstances or individuals who have hurt us must be forgiven…and ultimately we will be able to let go of the shame and amazingly…the voice of our Father will begin to clearly, sweetly, deeply call out to us His words of affirmation, affection, direction and love.

Henri Nouwen says it so clearly in “Return of the Prodigal Son”, “I cannot make myself loved…true freedom [from shame] I cannot fabricate for myself. That must be given to me. I am lost. I must be found and brought home by the Shepherd who goes out to find me.” Grieving, forgiving and letting go will not MAKE us feel loved. But by God’s grace, this process helps us create space for our Father to do His work of healing us and calling us to Himself, our true home. It is only there, in His arms, that we find true peace and relief from the shouting voices of shame that have shackled so many of us for so long.

May today be a day of grieving, forgiving and letting go…a day where we take significant steps toward our Father who is waiting for each of us with His arms of love. The Psalmist says, “Weeping endures for a night. Joy comes in the morning.” I pray that joy might begin to peek through the shame, today, for many who are reading this blog. Please pray for me as well, as I, too walk toward my Father’s outstretched hand and heart…leaving the shame behind.

My brothers and sisters with chronic illness

Today, my mind and heart have been on those who battle long-term, debilitating pain and sickness. I have had a cold for a week. Granted, it is the worst cold I have had in 3 years. But it is just a cold. I know it won’t kill me. I know there are multiple over the counter remedies for every expression of viral misery in my body. And best of all, I know the pain will end [most colds last about 9 days – 3 days coming, 3 days here, 3 days going].

And I’ve gotta confess – even though it’s just a cold – I have whined my way through the first 7 of the 9 days. I simply haven’t felt good – and I’ve worn it on my sleeve more than once. In fact, I’ve apologized to Carla multiple times in the past week for my lousy attitude.

Which brings me to my friends who live with chronic illness. What about them? Some of them live with illnesses which may shorten their lives. For some of these illnesses, there is no drugstore symptomatic relief. And some of my friends know that until they cross over into eternity, they will battle their disease one moment at a time, day after day, for the rest of their lives.

All this to say – my stupid cold is tuning me into the greater pain of some of my friends. My heart is praying for each of them right now. I pray for strength. For patience. For healing. For symptomatic relief. For a sense of God’s presence. For a vision of their body being whole again. For the courage to face one moment at a time. For the guts to not shrink back and hide but to use the gifts they have been given for the good of others – as they are given strength to do so. For the hope and motivation that comes from trusting that our God is good and present even in what seems so monstrous and bad.

And I pray for the rock-solid foundational encouragement that comes from a deep sense of knowing “the end of the story” – that one day there will be no more tears or heartache or cancer or MS or fibromyalgia or Lou Gehrig’s or cystic fibrosis or paralysis or muscular dystrophy or mental illness or arthritis or amputations or autism…that one day our God will again make His home with us…and all will be new…all will be well.

And God, help me chill on the whining…and to use the gift of whatever health You give me – every moment of every day – for the sake of others and for the sake of Your Son, Jesus Christ and His Kingdom.

The Power of Blessing

This past weekend I had the privilege of serving a group of about 500 jr and sr high students at a retreat center up in the mountains about two hours outside Denver. Several things blew me away about the time I spent with these precious kids. First, the pain. The pain. I’ve been around the block a few times and heard many, many stories of wound and hurt – but I was absolutely astounded at the level of pain in these young men and women. Almost every young person I talked to cried and wept and sobbed on my chest as I listened and held them and whispered the love of the Father into their ears. I’m sorry to say that much of the hurt came and continues to come from incredibly abusive or absolutely absent mothers and fathers. When will we get it as parents – that our kids need us to be present TO THEM, not the other way around! We can’t give away what we haven’t received – I know that – so it is up to us to seek our God to fill us up with HIS love [Eph. 3:19] so that we have something to give to our children!

One of the tenderest moments occurred the first night when I sat on the first row of the meeting room in front of a 17 year old young man – and prayed a blessing over him as if I were his father. I got very close to him, looked him right in the eye and told him how much I loved him and how he didn’t need to perform for me because he was my precious son. I told him that the day he was born was one of the greatest days of my life. [He told me later that he was adopted…so when I told him how much his “birth day” meant to me – he lowered his head and began to weep.] I told him that I prayed and hoped that he would continue to develop his character – because it was in his character that he became a true man. I told him I would be there for him as long as our God gave me breath…and that I loved him with all my heart. Then I took his head in my hands and blessed him, and kissed him, and embraced him. And even though I was not his real father and this was simply a role play – this young man melted in my arms – and there were students weeping all over the room.

The rest of the weekend, I had literally dozens of students come to me – and in one way or another – ask me for this same blessing…a blessing they longed to receive from their parents, but never had.

My Father, be with the young men and women I met in Colorado. Stay close to them. Whisper in their ear that you love them, that you are their Abba, that you will never leave them, never forsake them. Hold them close. Give them courage. Give them your guidance, your peace, and your blessing…in Jesus’ name, amen.

Having lost all…I have nothing to lose…

Our men’s bible study is working through Henri Nouwen’s “Return of the Prodigal Son” – Nouwen’s very intimate and personal meditation on Jesus parable from Luke 15 – AND Rembrandt’s famous artistic expression of that same parable. I am in my 5th reading of the book – it is that profound. And today, a line hit me, touched me and moved me…a line I’m sure I’ve read at least 4 times before – but which for some reason found a deeper landing place in my spirit this morning.

This is the line: “The Father has nothing to lose because he has lost all. He has only to give. He can welcome his children home without asking them any questions and without wanting anything from them in return.”

Nouwen’s point is that though we all resemble, at one time or another, both the younger prodigal son as well as the older, resentful brother…God’s goal for us is to become Fathers and Mothers – who can welcome many sons and daughters home, to Him. The key to being an effective Father or Mother? To become one who “has nothing to lose because he has lost all.”

It is only then that we can truly be about giving to our spiritual children. Only then can we truly love our spiritual sons and daughters because true love is never about what we need, but the need of the other. We can only truly welcome home the spiritual kids God might bring to us if we have come to a point where we “want nothing from them in return”. Because this is the way the Father in Luke 15 welcomed home his prodigal son and this is the way our Heavenly Father has welcomed home each of us – without condition, without demand, without expectation, without any hoops to jump through, without any spiritual conditions to meet except that we have decided we want to come home.

He welcomes us freely. He welcomes us by grace. He is a Father who “having lost all, has nothing to lose.” That’s how I want to be…or shall I say, “become”. Father, help me today to continue to become a Father who welcomes home many sons and daughters…just like You. Help me to become a father who “having lost all, has nothing to lose, only to give.”